HIT-208 Darlene
By 
F.E. Campbell


CHAPTER ONE - Captive in the Woods

It was a lovely early summer afternoon, with warm golden sunlight shafting down between
green boughs, the gentle hum of insects, and the happy singing of birds. Tiny motes of dust 
floated in and out of those beams of sun, in every changing patterns on the still air.

Wild flowers painted a carpet of gorgeous hues between clumps of fresh green trees. It 
was a peaceful, beautiful, lazy June afternoon.

It was also a shame that I couldn’t enjoy it. The problem was, gentle reader, that I was 
tightly bound with ropes that delighted in indenting my flesh and holding me completely 
prisoner to their embrace. Like one of these nearby trees, I could not move from my spot, as if
I had roots sunk deeply into the soil below my feet. My trunk was my body and that wooden 
post pressed hard against my back. My leaves were my golden hair that danced around 
merrily when I shook my head. I had few limbs for my legs were tightly together and lashed to
the post. My arms were also lashed, both together and to the post which passed between my 
shoulders and downward. And additional ropes, totally unneeded and unwanted, were wound
around my waist and chest, holding me quite firmly to the round wooden post.

And I was naked as the day I was born. And how, you ask, did this gentle female, this 
peaceful lover of nature and all things kind and good, come to be so cruelly lashed to a post 
and alone in the middle of a forest? What hand placed those cords so terribly digging into my
flesh? What fiend would wish this lovely and fine example of youthful womanhood to suffer 
so?

Actually, it was my idea. You see, I told Marvin that it was such a lovely day that I wished to
spend it in the gardens, out among the birds, bees and trees. That was all it took. Less than an 
hour later the final knot was tied and I was quite helpless.

Please don’t get the idea that Marvin is cruel. Actually, he’s a bit of a nerd, almost a wimp.

Well, actually he’s a first class wimp with no backbone of his own. Which is good in one 
respect. I order him to tie me to a post and he’ll do it. I order him to make the ropes tight, 
really tight, and he’ll do it. And I order him to leave me alone, totally alone in a glade over a 
mile from the house, and he does it. Just as I knew he would return only at sunset, as I had 
ordered.

Marvin, you see, was in love with me. And being a wimp, he could never think of taking 
charge. Instead he hoped to win my love by obeying my slightest wish. And that included no 
matter how weird, kinky, or uncomfortable it might make me. He was a wimp, but obeyed 
orders very well, and for that I put up with him.

So there I was, standing against the post, tightly tied to the wood and totally helpless. And
completely naked. And it was all my idea. Wild, huh?

Perhaps I should give you a little background. My name is Darlene McCoy. I was, at the 
time I am telling about, a tender young lass of nineteen summers, somewhat innocent in the 
ways of the world but learning fast. And I had (still do) a really wild imagination and the 
courage to try what other girls would only fantasize about. That bit of being tied all afternoon 
naked to a post in the forest behind the house was a good example. I like to do really wild 
things-things that would shock most people. And I had a perfect accomplice in Marvin.

I should also inform you that my parents had died a year before, leaving me a very wealthy
young girl. Wealthy enough so that I would never have to work a day in my life.

Wealthy enough to do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life. You know, the kind of 
wealth most people can only dream of.

Spoiled might have been a good way to describe me back then. But not a brat. I had been 
taught by my parents to be kind to others, not to flaunt the money, and to always appreciate 
my good fortunate. And I did. I really appreciated my good fortunate on every skiing jaunt to 
Switzerland, every time I “borrowed” the company jet to fly down to Tahiti, and every time I 
bought a fantastic new dress on Rodeo Drive for more money than most people make in a 
month.

Marcus Walters, a good lawyer but a boring man, kept the company going and provided 
me with plenty of spending money. All I had to do was have fun. Sort of a permanent vacation
with lots of money to spend on enjoying it.

So why does this poor little rich girl go around having her friend tie her naked to a post?

And leave her to suffer for the afternoon? And don’t doubt that I was. Those ropes were as
I had ordered: tight. Very tight. Marvin maybe a wimp but he does his best to obey my orders. 
He tugged at the ropes with all his strength. It’s just comical the way he keeps pushing his 
glasses up on his nose with one finger. But back to the original question: why do I do things 
like that?

Looking back, I guess you would have to say that it was merely an expression of my 
submissive nature. At the time I felt I was doing wild things that would shock people, even if 
hardly anyone knew. Like that day on the post. Only Marvin knew I was there. And he was so 
in love with me that I don’t think I could shock him. Okay, so let’s just say that I liked to do 
crazy things.

I have started this story of my life with that afternoon because that was the beginning of a 
lot of changes in my life. And it was the first time I met Gary Norton.

I had spent the first hour trying to get free. Not so much because I wanted to be free, but 
because I wanted to convince myself that I was helpless. If I had been able to work the ropes 
off, I would have been disappointed. I probably would have vanquished Marvin from my 
presence for at least a week. But I had nothing to worry about, his ropes were tight as usual 
and the knots quite out of my reach.

I settled down to an occasional tug here and there, and a few wanderings of my fingers in 
search of knots. And to enjoying the scary feeling that comes from being completely tied up. 
If you’ve never tired it, you should. Being to helpless and all alone is scary. But also very 
exciting. I was breathing hard, my loins were glowing with a delightful warmth, my nipples 
were rigid with sexual excitement, and my mind filled with frustration, knowing that there was 
nothing I could do to gain the sexual satisfaction I so greatly desired. But that was part of the 
game. I was turned on but could not even touch myself. It was horrible. It was delicious.

About the middle of the afternoon my world changed from calm acceptance of a mild 
state of erotic arousal to sudden panic. A man was walking up to me! A stranger!

“Well, well,” he said in a deep, resonate voice. “What have we here?”

I gasped in surprise but recovered enough to reply sarcastically, “What we have here is 
private property. I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Did you know it’s hard for a girl to sound imperial and commanding when she’s naked and
tied up before a man? Damned hard to give orders that way. For a long time he simply stood 
there, looking me over in a way that made me both mad and tingle inside. His gaze was 
frankly interested in my nudity, but not a drooling leer. I fear I was blushing mightily under 
that gaze, and very much aware of my nudity.

This man was in his early thirties, handsome, slender and in possession of a head full of 
wavy black hair. His intense blue eyes were like I had hardly ever seen. His smile, when it came,
was easy and natural. He might not be described as a hunk, but he came close.

The body that filled out that khaki shirt didn’t look like a wimp. I could not help myself 
from seeing him as a male animal, and a pretty good looking one at that. Perhaps it was 
something to do with my being naked and helpless before him, but it was certainly not a 
feeling I had ever gotten when Marvin looked at me.

He walked around me slowly, examining the ropes that held me prisoner but not touching 
them. When he came back to the front, he commented on them. “Very good job of tying.”

“I taught Marvin how to do it,” I said. Immediately I wanted to bite my tongue. Foolish 
pride in my teaching Marvin how to tie might well get me in trouble.

“He learned very well. I would venture to say that you cannot free yourself without 
assistance.”

I did not agree. It might have been the truth but I wasn’t going to admit it to him. Instead I
tried to scare him away. “Marvin is going to be back here any minute now. Unless you want to 
get in trouble with the police for trespassing, you’d better get out of here.”

He only smiled, and I felt like stamping my foot in frustration. Only I couldn’t stamp my 
foot.

“I would further venture to guess that this scene is one that you orchestrated. You told this
Marvin to tie you to this post. Right?”

I did not reply. I also hoped that my biting my lower lip didn’t tell him how right he was.

“And that, having been bound to the post securely and to your specifications, you ordered
him to remove himself from the place and leave you alone. For two hours? No, that would be 
too short. Four hours then?”

Six was closer but I was not going to tell him that. “I doubt that Marvin will be here in a 
few seconds. I would say that you are alone in this forest. Save for me, of course.”

I was very aware of that fact, thank you. And it was doing terrible/wonderful things inside 
me. He stepped forward until his eyes were only inches from mine. For a long time we just 
looked at each other, and I got the feeling that he was reading my thoughts, knew that 
everything he said was true, and perhaps even more about me than that. Finally he smiled 
again. “My name is Gary, Gary Norton. I was hiking over the mountains and happen onto your
place by accident. I apologize for trespassing, I didn’t know it was private property. I was just 
trying to get back to the highway.”

“You’re a couple miles from it,” I said with trembling lips. “Over that way.”

“Thank you.” He looked the direction I had indicated with the nod of my head. I had no 
other way to point, you know.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “A very beautiful woman.” Then he leaned forward and took 
my chin in his hand. Then he kissed me.

I should have been screaming for help. Instead I stood there in surprise at his action. But 
there was something else. I was frozen, unable to move or even think. The whole world 
became his lips upon mine and my awareness of his male body almost touching mine. His kiss
was like no other kiss I had ever felt. It was gently, undemanding, but highly erotic. He didn’t 
try to stick his tongue in my mouth or try turn it into an act of sexual arousal, like most men 
do. But it was the sexiest kiss I had ever the pleasure of getting.

He backed off a step and smiled again. I wanted to melt. Suddenly I remembered to 
breath. Part of me wanted to scream in protest, part wanted to whisper to him to do it again. 
And maybe something else.

He looked around for a few seconds, then pointed back the way he had come. “There’s a 
small clearing back that way with a large Monterey Pine. You know it?”

I nodded. ‘Tomorrow I’m come back to that clearing. At seven in the evening. If you will 
come there, and bring your ropes, and come naked, I will tie you up. And I will make you my 
prisoner. Perhaps for the night. Perhaps longer.”

This was too much! What audacity! What did he think I was? What a fool!

And what was that man doing to me? My insides were all jelly and quivering like a girl on 
her first date. Only more so. Instead of telling him that the whole idea was ridiculous, I could 
only stare at his blue eyes and breath heavily.

He turned and headed the direction I had told him led to the highway. The last I saw was 
his backpack disappearing into the pines.

I gasped. And then sighed. Looking down I was aware of how rigid my nipples were, of a 
blush half way down my breasts, and a moist feeling between my legs. That man had done 
something incredible to my body, something that no other man had every done. I let loose 
with a little whine and surged against my ropes.

But they held me to the post and I could not follow Gary. So I stood there and endured a 
frustrating afternoon, far more frustrating that I had expected. And I kept wondering what 
would have happened if I had called him back when he was leaving. What if I asked him to kiss
me again? What if I told him how terribly badly I wanted his hand to touch me were I burned? 
I would never know.

Later, after Marvin came and untied me, I was still wondering about the encounter. Marvin 
was his usual concerned self, asking if the indentation from the ropes hurt, and if there was 
anything he could do for me. Knowing Marvin, I doubted that he was even aware of how 
horny I was. And his asking if he could do anything for me was not the offer of sex it would 
have been coming from most men. If I had laid down on my back, spread my legs, and told 
him to have at it, I think he would have been too shocked to move.

Besides, it wasn’t Marvin’s body that I was imagining doing things to mine.

Over dinner that night, Marvin said I seemed distracted and perhaps I was. This Gary 
Norton was an idiot to think that I was going to show up at his rendezvous. What an ego!

One little kiss and he expects that I’ll obey him in the most ridiculous demands. What an 
idiot!

After Marvin went home, I went to bed early but couldn’t sleep. It was as if I could still feel 
his lips on mine. I could still feel his body near mine. I tossed and turned. I even considered 
calling Marvin back and having him tie me over the end of the bed and whip my bottom with 
a belt. I had him do that once as a lark. It hurt and I hadn’t asked him to do it again. But it 
hadn’t been too bad. And it had done some nice things to me inside. But this time I was 
thinking that I would order him to hit me really hard. Make me hurt. Maybe that would clear 
those ridiculous thoughts from my mind.

It was a strange thing to find myself picking up a handful of rope and walking towards the 
gardens behind the house the next evening.





CHAPTER TWO - Introduction to Slavery


Now I know what you’re going to say-this girl is crazy. Well, maybe a little bit. I was telling 
myself at the time that I was only going to see if this Gary Norton was actually going to show 
up. I mean, for all he knew I could have the police waiting for him. Then he could spend a little
time in jail for trespassing.

But I couldn’t forget the look in his eyes and the feel of his lips upon mine. And don’t ask 
me why I picked up the rope and took it with me. It was just handy.

The evening was quite warm, and a dozen shades of red and orange painted the evening 
sky to the west, over the ocean. The afternoon breeze had died down to a tiny caress upon my
cheek as I made my way along the path leading back to the clearing. My house has quite a bit 
of land behind it, going all the way up into the mountains. The front faces the beach, which I 
also own, and I often sat on the large balcony and watched sailboats gliding gently by.

The clearing was empty. There was enough light, I could see all part of it clearly and there 
was no man waiting there. Since I was a stupid girl to go there in the first place, I should have 
been glad that he hadn’t shown up. But a part of me was sad.

“Hello, beautiful.” The voice was his and I turned around with a smile on my lips. I quickly 
wiped it off and assumed a more proper attitude when confronting an intruder. “I’m surprised 
you had the courage to show up,” I said sternly.

He smiled and that told me all I needed to know. It spoke volumes. He saw right through 
my sternness. He knew my innermost thoughts. He knew I would come. And he knew that I 
would bring that damned rope. That man knew me better than I knew myself.

“You didn’t tell me your name yesterday,” he said.

“It’s Darlene,” I managed. Why was my body tingling? “Darlene,” he repeated as if savoring
the sound of it. “I like that.”

“Then I may keep it?” I asked in what was suppose to be a sarcastic tone but was probably 
more humorous. “Of course. Until I give you a new one.”

“A new name. Why would you do that?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll see nothing. Except to see you leaving my property.” I had to put up a front. And it 
bought me time to try and figure out the mixed up emotions inside me.

“I see you brought the rope,” he commented casually, as if it had never been in debate. I 
looked down at the cord in my hands, the same cord that had been holding my body helpless 
when he saw me yesterday. I felt like dropping it, it almost burned my hands. “But you’re 
wearing a dress,” he continued. “A very light summer dress, almost see through.”

I blushed. The way he was looking at my dress should have earned him a slap on the face. I
believe it is called “undressing you with his eyes.” But whatever you call it, it was having an 
effect on me. I felt as if I were already naked and he could see every part of me.

Yet I felt no desire, no lecherous drooling over my assets. It was simply honest admiration 
and enjoyment.

“Please remove the dress.” That was all. Not even an order. I opened my mouth for a retort
but nothing came out. For a minute I stood there, lip trembling and my legs going weak. I 
should have turned and ran, I know that. I should have done most anything except what I did. 
The rope fell from my fingers. I reached up and pulled the thin strap off my shoulder. Then the
one on the other side. I did it slowly, my mind a chaos of confusion as my fingers obeyed a 
will other than my own. A little tug and the flimsy material was down around my waist and my 
breasts exposed to the evening air.

He said nothing. There was pleasure in his eyes and that said enough. I took both hands 
and pushed the dress over my hips. Suddenly I was standing there, completely naked and not 
sure why.

“You are beautiful.” Men have been telling that to girls since the beginning of time. Yet I 
felt like it was totally new and completely honest. I knew I had a fine body, one look in the 
mirror told me that. But to hear it from this man was something else. It sent shivers down my 
spine. But not nearly as many as the next words.

“Please put your hands behind your back.” Again, not an order. A harsh order I might have
been able to resist. But his quite, low voice was something else. I don’t know what kind of 
expression I had on my face as I turned my back to him and placed my hands crossed behind 
my back. It should have been utter stupidity but was probably more puzzlement.

A few seconds later I felt his hands upon my wrists, moving them until the palms were 
facing each other and the wrists together. The feel of ropes going around my wrists was not 
new to me but when Gary put them there, it was a thrill like the first time. He wrapped the 
rope slowly, carefully, watching the placement of each winding. Then rope went between my 
arms and hands, crossing over the main windings and tightening them down.

With my wrists firmly together, the rope went up to my elbow, looped it and then went 
around the other one. He pulled them together and wrapped rope around the arms just 
above the elbows. It was tight but did not seem cruel. Even after he had cinched down those 
ropes and my elbows were quite tightly bound together, I did not feel the ropes had been put
on to hurt. They had been put on to make me helpless, to rob me of my hands and arms, to 
place me under the control and power of this man. And they did.

He turned me around and kissed my trembling lips. I closed my eyes and kissed back with 
all that was in me.

It would have served me right had he simply screwed me there on the grass and left me to
walk back to the house and have a servant untie my arms. Which would have been 
embarrassing, to say the least. But it was all I deserved, being such a stupid girl. Yet, it was not 
to be that way.

His arms around my body were wonderfully strong. His hard body pressing against mine 
was a source of desire that heated up my loins like I had never felt before. His kiss was the 
sweetest of wines and I grew drunk with passion.

Boy, what rot! I don’t usually talk that way. “Sweetest of wines,” indeed! But it really was 
wonderful. I was very aware of an incredible animal attraction this man exerted upon me.

All the other men who had kissed me or even taken me to bed (yes, I was not a virgin!) 
were just amateurs compared to this man. I felt weak and wanted the kiss to go on forever. It 
was even better than being kissed while tied to the post. Much better.

I would happily have spread my legs wide right then and invited him in. But he had other 
ideas. Leaning me against a tree trunk, he used another piece of rope to tie my ankles 
together. The thought that this would defeat his purpose sprang to my mind but did not form
into words. Then he picked the rest of the rope, put it in his pocket, and took out a ball gag. It 
was a small rubber ball with a leather strap stuck through it. Suddenly that rubber ball was 
against my teeth. I opened my mouth wide to accept it. The strap was tightly fixed around my 
head and I was robbed of the power of speech.

While I was wondering what was happening, he put his face close to mine and whispered, 
“Tomorrow morning I’ll return you to this clearing. But until them you’re mine.”

Until then you’re mine! What a wonderful idea. If you, gentle reader, are a man you will 
never know what those words can do to a woman. At least a woman with a great streak of 
submissiveness within such as me. I felt so helpless and under his control that it is hard to put 
into words. And it was so exciting! I wanted this man to posses me, make me his own, to take 
me in every sense of the word.

He did. Take me, I mean. He put a shoulder into my midsection and lifted me over his 
shoulder, one arm around my legs. I was being carried away to an unknown fate and loving it. 
My last view was of my pink dress laying on the grass.

He had a van. It was a new one, a large one, and one fixed out inside like a bachelor’s 
penthouse. There was actually a water bed! A small one, to be sure, but a water bed.

There was thick carpet on the floor, a very nice sound system, and drapes on the windows. 
He placed me gently on the floor, then hopped in and closed the door. He lit a couple candles
and made sure all the drapes were closed. Then he squatted down and looked at me laying on
the floor.

I guess I most have looked scared. That’s what I felt. It was one thing ordering Marvin to 
tie me to a post. That was a game, nothing more. Marvin was such a milksop that I felt no fear 
of him doing a single thing on his own, let alone hurt me or screw me. But this was something
different. This man was a stranger. And a real hunk. And there was no doubt about his 
intentions. I mean, after all, I was naked and tied up and even gagged. He could do whatever 
he wished to me and I couldn’t say boo to a goose. To use an expression my father used to 
use.

This Gary was certainly taking his time. I expected his hands to be all over my body as 
soon as the door closed. But instead he was calmly selecting a CD to fill the van with romantic 
music. The selection turned out to be Chopin, a lot of violins and very melodic.

Then he untied his shoes and put them in a drawer under the water bed. Only then did he 
turn his attention to the naked and bound up girl laying on his carpet.

His first act was to untie my ankles. That was expected. It’s not impossible to be screwed 
with your ankles tied together, I had figured that out long before, but it’s harder. Most men 
prefer to spread the girl’s legs wide. That he did, placing his body on his knees between my 
wide spread legs. Here it comes, I told myself. And was ready for him to unzip his pants and 
insert his prong, which I hoped would be as hard-body as the rest of him.

But he didn’t do that. Instead he began stroking my flanks, his hands running lightly over 
my skin, teasing the nerves. It felt good. But I had been braced for a quick and hard screwing 
and it took a while to adjust to gentle foreplay. His hands were indeed gentle as they touched 
here, teased a nerve there, and rubbed softly my rigid nipples. I sucked air in round the gag 
and closed my eyes. That felt good!

For quite a while he played my body like an instrument. He excited and teased and did 
wonderful things to me. I was breathing hard, and my body felt like it was glowing 
incandescent with desire. Before long I was ready to beg for him to screw me, to put 
something inside me. I wanted it badly. I would have begged, had it not been for the ball gag. 
But my wiggling and thrusting of the hips upward must have told him what I wanted.

Then he did it.

The hands left me for a few seconds and I figured it was to remove the pants. But suddenly
the fingers were back, spreading my labia wide. A second later a tongue attacked my clitoris 
and I jumped. My nerves must have been in a high state of excitement because the first lick of 
his tongue over my clit and I felt electric shocks darting through my sex.

I don’t know where he learned the skill, but he really knew how to pleasure a girl. He licked
me until I was almost in a frenzy of passion. He sucked gently on my clit and I thought I’d go 
crazy. When he sensed that I was ready to climax, his arms went over my thighs, pinning me to
the floor, and his hands grabbed my ass. A strong hand clutched each cheek and the fingers 
dug in, enough to hurt. But at the same time his mouth was clamped over my most sensitive 
place and his tongue was doing wonderful things to me.

The two of them were more than enough. I crashed headlong into an orgasm more 
intense than any I had ever experienced. Flashing colored lights exploded in my brain. I felt on
fire, consumed in a red-hot passion. It was incredible.

I think I blacked out or went someplace else for a while. When I drifted back down to 
earth, I was still laying on the thick carpet. Gary was laying next to me, his body unclothed and
just as magnificent as I had imagined. My arms ached some because I was laying on them but 
I ignored that. He must have seen my eyes open because he spoke.

“That was just to show you that I can give you pleasure.”

Understatement, I muttered to myself. “Now I’ll show you that I can give pain.” My heart 
did a flip-flop. Pain? Darlene, you’re a fool, I told myself.

This time his fingers were rough as they grabbed my breasts. It hurt but not terribly. His 
head descended upon my poor breasts and his mouth clamped around one nipple while the 
other one was treated to rough kneading. He teased the nipple with his tongue, then ran it 
rapidly around the taunt flesh. Then he gently bit me. I gasped and jerked but more from 
surprise than from real pain. Another hand found my sex and began kneading it. It wasn’t 
gentle but it was effective. I felt my loins warming up again. This went on until both my 
nipples were well sucked upon, my sex grown hot, and my body again approaching an 
orgasm.

Then he turned me over. His strong hands made an easy task of it. Suddenly I was face 
down over one of his bare knees. As the significance of that position dawned the first swat of 
his hard hand impacted upon my bottom. I squealed into the gag and tried to get off his 
knee. It was no use. The ropes held my arms useless and his strength held the rest of me.

With one hand holding my bound arms up so I couldn’t reach my bottom, he spanked me 
with a slow, steady rhythm. He covered every square inch of my bottom, making the flesh 
there sting and heat up. I began to wonder if it my bottom was glowing cherry red, it felt like 
that.

After a couple dozen strokes, I found myself no longer struggling to get free. Now my 
wiggles were of passion. I could feel his rigid rod pressing against my thigh and wanted it 
inside me. Oh, did I want it inside me!

He must have been reading my thoughts. Suddenly I was off his leg and kneeling. He 
pushed my legs wide and slide himself between them. Before I knew what was happening, his 
rod was at the entrance to my vagina, pushing its head between my labia. His hands on my 
hips guided me and gave his orders. It was simple and wonderful. I lowered myself on his 
shaft until it was full inside me. I think I whined with pleasure about then. But the best was yet 
to come.

I began to ride him like a horse. I bounced up and down, making his rod slide in and out.

The faster I bounced, the faster it slide within my sheath. One of his hands grasp my breast
while the other stayed on my hip. His fingers dug into my breast and it hurt. But that hurt was 
swallowed up by the pleasure. Or added to it. I wasn’t thinking too clearly right then, just 
enjoying.

It was an incredible ride. It was a hard ride, to be sure, and his hands hurt my breasts until I
would have been crying had I not been so sexually excited. As it was, I did cry out loud when I 
hit the orgasm. It was every bit as good as the first one. Sort of different, but very intense.

I collapsed on him so his rod was buried deeply in me. And I felt him shooting his load 
inside me. I think I even tasted it. Maybe that sounds funny, but I have had that happen since. 
Maybe some kind of chemical reaction or something, but I sweat that I taste the man when he
ejaculates inside me.

I didn’t pass out this time but for a long time I didn’t care what was happening in the 
world.

My whole universe was the incredible feeling inside my sex and how full his penis made 
me feel.

Eventually he lifted me off and put me down on the carpet. For a while we lay beside each 
other, his hand resting on one of my breasts. I snuggled up against him, a very contented 
female.

Eventually we both recovered from the sex. I expected him to untie me and take the gag 
out of my mouth. But he didn’t. Instead he got up and changed the CD to something quiet 
and soft. Some kind of jazz that I had never heard. But it was nice. Mellow is a good word to 
describe it.

Gary picked up the rope he had taken from my ankles and looked at it for a second. Then 
he tied my ankles together with it. That was unexpected but I was in no position to protest, 
nor in a frame of mind to. This man had just given me the two finest orgasms of my young life
and I was as mellow as the jazz.

He picked me up and placed me on the water bed. I was against the wall, it wasn’t very 
wide. Then he lay down beside me and covered us both with a sheet. I whined a little protest 
about the gag. He kissed my forehead and my closed eyelids gently. “You have two choices,” 
he whispered. “You can lay next to me with the ropes and gag on, or you can spend the night 
on the floor in a tight hogtie with the gag still in your mouth. Your choice.”

What can a girl do? Faced with the choice of sleeping next to him or spending the night in 
a hogtie on-the floor, I chose to be next to the man who had given me so much pleasure.

In the middle of the night I felt the gag being taken out of my mouth. My jaw ached rather
badly, my first introduction to how much discomfort a ball gag can cause when left in for 
hours. My arms were a little uncomfortable but not bad. And it felt good to be tied up with his
arms around me, our naked bodies pressed together. We slept the rest of the night like that.

In the morning I was woken when he got up. He was lifting me out of the water bed and 
putting me on my knees. The idea that he might untie my legs and we could make love again 
passed before my eyes and it looked good. But he didn’t. My ankles stayed bound together. 
He sat on the edge of the bed with his legs on either side of me. I was looking down at his stiff
rod and wondering what was going to happen next. His weapon was certainly at the ready 
and my pussy began heating up at the sight of it.

“Remember I said that I would have another name for you?” he began. I nodded. “Well, 
that name is slave. You are my slave.”

Part of me wanted to tell him how ridiculous that was. And part thrilled at the sound of it.

“Say it. Say that you are my slave.”

Was this a game? Or was he serious. Suddenly I began to wonder if I really would be 
returned to the clearing so I could go home. I was still tied up and quite helpless.

“Say it.” His voice was firm but gentle.

“I am your slave,” I heard my voice saying. It sounded sincere.

“Good.” He kissed me and I felt the desire rising inside. Get these ankles untied and use 
that huge weapon of yours, I wanted to scream.

But when the kiss ended, his hands guided my head down towards his phallus and 
suddenly I knew what it was I had to do.

Now I was no virgin then. Not extremely experienced, either, but I had sex with a few men 
(and a couple woman, but that’s another story). And some of those men had expressed a 
desire to have me use my mouth upon their rods. I refused each time. It was a dirty, terrible 
thing to want a girl to do. I hated the very idea and had never done it to any man.

But his hands were strong and I was very much aware of my naked condition as well as the
tight ropes holding my arms behind me and my feet together. I was helpless. Simple fact. I felt
the head of his penis against my lips. At first I refused to open them but he whispered 
something in my ear that made me much more cooperative. It was only one word but it did 
wonders to improve my willingness. It was “whipping.”

I didn’t know if he really would whip me, but my bottom was still a little bit sore from the 
spanking of the night before. I remember what he had said about giving me pleasure and 
pain. Being tied up, he could do either and I had to accept it.

I opened my lips and took his tool into my mouth. For a while I just knelt there, his rod in 
my mouth. Surprisingly I didn’t have the urge to gag. But I also didn’t now what to do.

Then I remembered the times when I was a teenager and had experimented with lesbian 
lovemaking with some girlfriends. I began by running my tongue around the head of his 
penis. It seemed to like that. So I licked it some more. And I sucked a bit. Then his hands 
moved my head back and forth and I got the idea. I began nodding my head, sliding my 
mouth around his rod. I guess it was sort of like he was sliding his rod in my pussy. It certainly 
seem to like it.

For a long time I worked at my task. I began to wonder when he was going to climax. I had
always heard that men loved to climax in a girl’s mouth, then make them swallow the results. I 
didn’t know if I could but I was prepared to try. Would it be as horrible as some girls had told 
me?

When it happen, it was actually sort of exciting. This time I really did taste him, but it was 
different from the sensation I had experienced the night before. I swallowed, it was instinctual.
Also instinctual, because I would never had thought of it, was my licking his penis clean after it
became limp. It was like paying homage to his sex.

When I was done, he picked me up and placed on me the bed. Then he untied my legs.

As he did, he talked to me, explaining my new status.

“A slave is the property of her Master,” he began. “She will do as he orders without 
question or hesitation. She will receive pleasure or pain as he wishes. Do you understand?”

I didn’t know what to say. This man both excited me and scared me.

“I know it’s strange to you right now. But you have a slavegirl inside you. She just has to be
awakened. Your having Marvin tie you to the post yesterday was proof.”

All it was proof of was that I liked to do crazy things, I wanted to retort. Nothing more.

“You will come to love being the property of your Master. You will come to gladly perform 
any sexual act he wishes. You will come to endure gladly any punishment he desires for you.”

You’re a great guy when it comes to sex but you’re crazy, I wanted to tell him.

“You’ll see.” That was his last words before his head went down to my sex and his tongue 
worked its way to my clit.

I moaned and spread my legs wider. Before long I was moaning almost constantly as the 
heat built up inside me. Just when I was nearing an orgasm, his tongue departed. I moaned 
extra loud. Was this part of the treatment for a slavegirl? Denying what she so badly wanted? 
Building her up to a climax then frustrating her?

But it was not to be punishment. A second later his rod was pressing against my sheath 
and a second after that it was inside. I was amazed that it had restored itself to full potency so 
fast but didn’t question how. I simply enjoyed the ride.

After that sex was over, he tied my ankles together again, and replaced that ball gag. I 
didn’t want it and shook my head when he tried to put it in my mouth, but he forced it in 
anyway.

Then he picked me up and carried me back to the clearing. My dress was still laying on the
ground. Shortly I was laying on the ground next to it. He untied my arms, causing me to gasp 
when my elbow came apart. They had been tied for almost fifteen hours and were pretty stiff 
and sore from the tight ropes. He crossed my wrists and tied them again, but the ropes were 
looser.

“It will take you about half an hour to free yourself from these,” he told me. “Then you can 
walk back to your house and have breakfast.”

At the mention of food, I was suddenly aware of just how hungry I was.

Then he was gone. No words of farewell, no good-byes. Not even a thank you. I felt 
disappointed. I didn’t know what I had expected but there had to be more than just being left 
in the forest.

He was pretty close. It did take me almost half an hour to work the ropes off my wrist, 
chaffing them a little bit in the process. But these ropes and knots had been nowhere near as 
tight or secure as before and I was able to work them off.

I gathered up the ropes and put my dress back on. As I walked back up the path towards 
the house, I was trying to sort out my emotions. And trying to understand the attraction I felt 
for the word, “slave.”





CHAPTER THREE - Eight Inch Substitute


Marvin came over that afternoon, perhaps eager in his little puppy-dog way for me to want 
some kind of erotic and shocking game. I knew he had been ogling my naked body when he 
tied me to the post the day before, and I used to enjoy teasing him like that. He was such a 
nerd that he would never think of touching the naked flesh displayed before him.

Except, of course, for what he had to in order to bind me.

But that next day I wasn’t in the mood to have Marvin tie me up. He would have been only
a pale substitute for the real man who had kept me his prisoner all night. My body still tingled 
at the memory of his hands on me, his body against mine, and even his penis in my mouth. I 
fear I was not very kind to Marvin. Later that night, after he had gone, I realized that I wasn’t 
being very nice to him. He was, after all, sort of my best friend.

Fortunately he came from a family even richer than my parents had been, so I didn’t have 
to worry about him being after me only for my money. I made a promise that I would do 
something nice for Marvin the next day.

My dreams that night were filled with visions and feeling, all of me naked and tied with 
ropes and Gary’s strong hands upon my body. Oddly, just before I woke up, when you can 
remember your dreams the best, I was having one about being tied up and trying to get my 
mouth on Gary’s penis. But he kept the huge rod just out of my reach, and, being tied up, I 
couldn’t move close enough to get it in my mouth. I felt very bad about not being able to 
reach it with my tongue as it hovered just out of reach. Then I woke up.

It was horrible the way Gary Norton was affecting my life. Here was this strong willed rich 
girl who couldn’t stop thinking about a man she hardly knew. Well, hardly knew in the usual 
sense. I knew him well in the Biblical sense.

Was I to see him again? I went back to the clearing and from there to where his van had 
been parked. It was on a small dirt road and the only trace I could find of my mystery man was
tire tracks in the dust. He hadn’t told me where he lived. He hadn’t even said if I would see 
him again. Was this to be one of those men who conquer a girl and then drop her to move on
to the next conquest?

I said I was strong willed and I mean it. That day I drove into town and hired a private 
detective to find him.

I should have saved my money. Three days later he reported that the only Gary Norton 
within a two hundred mile radius was an eighty year old retired advertising company 
executive who did have a history of sex offenses but none in the last ten years. My description 
of the van had been a little sketchy. I had come to it draped over the shoulder of a man, head 
hanging down. I left the same way. I could describe the inside but hardly remembered the 
color of the outside. And no license number, unfortunately.

The detective promised to keep on looking. And to send me his bill.

I was ready to throw the phone across the room. What the hell was going on? This guy 
comes waltzing into my life, screws me, then waltzes out. I wasn’t very happy about that and 
certainly wanted to do something, although exactly what was a little vague. I mean, what if I 
knew where he lived? Would I go up to his door and ask him if I could please spend another 
night in his bedroom, all naked and tied up? Pretty please?

Hell, that was just what I wanted to do! Then it occurred to me that he was playing his 
game.

He was the “Master,” I only the “slave.” He called the shots, made the rules and owned the 
slavegirl. It was not for the slavegirl to issue orders. If I went up to his door, he might well tell 
me to go to hell.

It made sense, in a way. Not that this logic eased my suffering much, but it was an 
explanation why he hadn’t told me anything about himself. Which also meant that he might 
come waltzing back when it pleased him. So what was I to do? Sit at home and patiently wait? 
Hell, no! When Darlene gets angry, she does something.

I may not have Gary but I did have Marvin. I called Marvin up. As usual he was at home.

Sometimes I got the idea that he sat around all day waiting for me to call. His voice 
jumped up an octave when I told him that I wanted him to come over and tie me up. But first I
had a little job for him to do.

I had to explain to him three times before he said he would do it and hung up. I mean, 
what’s so hard about going into the city, finding a store that sold adult novelty items, or 
martial aids as they’re sometimes called, and buying me a rubber artificial penis? A female 
friend of mine had once told me about one that her boyfriend bought for her. She become so 
in love with it that she dumped the boy and kept the artificial penis.

But she had described it pretty well, even down to the fact that they came in different sizes
and shapes. I had to guess from memory but figured that it was better to err on the high side 
in such matters and told Marvin to get me one that was eight inches long and two inches 
thick. I did have a giggle at the thought of bookworm Marvin going around the store 
measuring dildos with a ruler. That’s what Carta said they were called, dildos. Strange name 
but I guessed they had to be called something.

Marvin showed up with a paper bag in his hand and a blush on his face. He handed it to 
me without a word. I think he was both embarrassed for himself and for me. But I couldn’t 
care less for what Marvin felt. I told him to follow me.

I have three live-in servants in the house. But they know not to enter my bedroom when 
I’m there. Strict orders. This was the first time I had ever allowed Marvin into my private 
bedroom and I think he was nervous because of that. He might have been wondering what I 
was planning to do, too. Once there, I opened the bag and tossed the dildo on the bed, right 
next to several hundred feet of rope cut into twenty-five foot lengths. For a while I stared at 
the thing, still determined to carry out my plan but a little shocked to see the actual 
instrument of its execution.

It was flesh colored, rather realistic, and larger than I had imagined. I put my hand up next 
to it and realized that it was just as I had ordered Marvin to find, within half in inch. Well, I had
asked for it.

My plan simple. I had requested an artificial penis the same measurements as Gary’s real 
one. Or as best I could remember them. I intended to have that phallus inside me. I guess it 
was a recreation of his screwing me, but it was the best I could do. I stripped off my bikini, 
taking only two seconds for the job, there wasn’t much material there to begin with.

Then I teased my nipple with one hand and my clit with the other. I didn’t care that Marvin
was watching. Maybe I figured it was a special treat to let him watch. When I was juicy 
between my legs, I told the dildo and placed it at the entrance to my sheath.

It felt so good sliding in and I moaned in pleasure at the wonderful feeling. It was rather 
wide and really filled me up. I could feel muscles giving to allow the entry of that monster.

A woman’s vagina is wonderful that way, it expands to fit the need.

I had planned to put the thing inside me, that was all. But as I pushed it in, the temptation 
to slide it back out a bit and then in again was powerful. It would have felt so good to do that.
So good … But that wasn’t my plan. Any girl can masturbate using a tool like that.

Darlene McCoy did things differently.

When it was almost all the way in and felt like it couldn’t possibly advance an inch further, I
held it there with one hand and reached for a length of rope with the other. I had a small loop
tied in one end of the rope and used that to make a sliding loop at that end. I put that around
my waist and pulled it tight so it cut into my tummy. Then I ran the rope down between my 
legs, placing it carefully right over the flared end of the dildo. With the rope holding the dildo 
in me, I had both hands free to finish the job. I passed the rope between my legs and up to 
the rope around my waist in back. It went over that and back between my legs. I did that 
several times, until the base of the dildo was held in place by the ropes.

Then I tied a knot next to my belly button.

I will admit, I was pretty turned on. What girl wouldn’t be with a thing that sized inside 
her?

And it was getting harder to concentrate on anything but that artificial phallus filling me 
up so. Fortunately, the rest of the plan called for Marvin to execute it. I told him what to do 
and he jumped to obey.

My arms were bound behind my back, elbows as tightly together as Marvin could make 
them. My legs were tied together, with ropes around them at the ankles, and above and 
below my knees. Marvin know how to do that very well, I had taught him how. Then I rolled 
over on to my stomach and folded my legs up. He tied a rope to my ankles and passed that 
up between my legs and back. When he pulled the rope taunt, my feet and hands were drawn 
together until my fingers touched my heels. He made to loop the rope again but I ordered 
him to tighten it more first. He put all his strength into obeying my order. When I felt my 
ankles pressing into the palms of my hands, I knew this hogtie could go no further. He looped
the rope a few more times then tied the knots up at my elbows, where I had told him to.

It was a lovely, very tight hogtie. I could feel the stress on my shoulders and arms, the 
cutting of ropes into my legs above the knees, and the arch this position put on my body. I 
don’t know if you know it, but when a girl is put in a hogtie, the bending of the legs makes the
legs above the knees want to spread out, sort of get thicker. But if there are tight ropes 
around there, it makes the ropes dig in deeper. My knees felt very tightly bound together.

Not that the rest of me was loose-far from it.

I was breathing heavy, almost panting. It was hard to keep my composure with my body 
sending erotic messages to my brain. “Now get out,” I told Marvin.

“But, Darlene, will you be okay?” the nerd asked.

“Get out,” I said through clenched teeth.

He jumped as if I had stuck him. Perhaps I had said it with a little bit of anger. Whatever, 
he headed towards the door. “Two hours,” I called after him. “No, three hours. Come back in 
three hours.” I saw the pained look on his face. “Not a second sooner,” I added firmly.

See what a fool I am? With those few words I condemned myself to three hours of 
painfully tight bondage with a huge invader within my sex.

The door closed and I knew that Marvin would obey. Exactly three hours from that instant 
he would open the door and hurry to get the ropes off a naked girl who would, by then, be 
more than ready to have them come off.

I struggled against the ropes, a useless task if ever there was one. It was not that I wanted 
to or expected to free myself of them. It was instinct and a desire to feel the helplessness I was
in.

It must have been quite a sight. I fear I thrashed around on the bed like a fish out of water 
flopping around on the dock. I have a large mirror over the dresser and could just see myself 
in it. What I saw was a red faced fool in impossibly tight ropes. Then I closed my eyes and 
abandoned myself to sensations that quickly overwhelmed me.

I hit the first orgasm almost immediately. I think I was shaking all over and trembling as 
waves of pure ecstasy washed over me.

The second orgasm took only half an hour. I did not try for it, it simply came. I guess I 
never really came down from the sexual high of the first one. The third orgasm took an hour 
after that but was still pretty good. After the first one, I thought about Gary as my body 
heated up to a whitehot flame. I imagined that was his penis inside me, filling me up and 
making me a slave to my emotions. With my eyes closed, I could imagine he had somehow 
gotten his weapon inside my closed legs and pussy and had shoved it way up to make me feel
it.

Three hours is a long time. Three hours is the blinking of an eye. It was through a haze of 
sexual pleasure and afterglow that I felt Marvin’s hands untying the knots. As my body 
unfolded, there were aches and pain and stiffness but I did not care.

The last rope was that between my legs and Marvin hesitated to touch me there. With 
fingers tingling from returning circulation, I unknotted it and unpeeled the ropes, letting them
fall to the floor. The dildo, which I had expected to slid out, seemed reluctant to leave it’s 
warm, safe home. But it came when I gently pulled. What a feeling that was to have it slide 
slowly out. If I had been a tiny bit more excited and not so exhausted, that alone might well 
have triggered yet another orgasm in that tired body.

I kissed Marvin on the cheek, thanked him for his help, and fell upon my bed for a much 
needed nap. Marvin, sensing his dismissal, must have left because I was alone when I awoke 
shortly before dinner time.

It had been nice but a rubber (or plastic or whatever it was made of) dildo had not been 
the same as Gary. I still wanted the real thing inside me.

But I carefully cleaned and saved the dildo in a drawer next to my bed. That day he had 
become my close friend and I didn’t want him running out on me.

CHAPTER FOUR - My Master’s Summons, and a Bit of Torture

It was nearly a week from that wonderful night as Gary’s captive that the idea stuck me.

He had found me tied to a the post in the garden. Why wouldn’t he find me there again?

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I called Marvin over and explained what I 
wanted as we walked down the garden path. The post was there, six feet tall, three inches 
across and sanded smooth then varnished to a high shine. Exactly as I had been bound 
before, I instructed Marvin. Each rope the same, each just as tight, making me totally helpless, 
just as I had been that day when Gary wandered into my life. Of course I didn’t tell him that 
this whole scene was in hopes of my mystery man returning. But I think he knew that this was 
not just another of my whims. He tied me as tightly as I ordered. But Marvin always did exactly
as I ordered.

The afternoon sun was warm against my skin and as the clock slowly crept along, I found 
myself closing my eyes and drifting off into fantasies of Gary, ropes and long, long nights in a 
dark, mysterious forest somewhere far from civilization.

I think I dozed off. The immobility, warm sun, and pleasant dreams were conducive to 
napping. I awoke to find my head slump down and the sun nearing the horizon in a typical 
gorgeous California sunset. I yawned and went to stretched when I remembered that my body
was tightly lashed to a post and stretching, as well as most any other form of movement, was 
not allowed me.

Marvin came and got me after the sun had gone down, as per orders. I rewarded him by 
letting him take me out to dinner. His choice of restaurants lacked a bit, the lobster wasn’t 
fresh but frozen, and the view out over the marina allowed only for a small section of the 
turning basin, but I made like I was pleased. It was so simple to please Marvin, a compliment 
now and then, tossed to him like scraps to a dog, and allowing him to be around me.

I let him kiss my hand when we parted for the night, but only after he had promised to 
show up the next afternoon. I figured that Gary had found me in the late afternoon, so that 
was the best time to try again.

The next day Marvin showed up, I showed up at the post, sans clothing, and was wrapped 
tightly in ropes until I could not move from the wooden pole, nor move much of my limbs.

Again Marvin left and I was alone in the late afternoon golden sunlight, a captive of my 
own post and garden, wishing devotedly to become the captive of another.

That night Marvin came for me. I guess he saw my disappointment as he unwrapped the 
ropes from my naked flesh for he made every effort to cheer me up. Finally I bid him away 
outside while I changed my clothes (from nothing to something) and then we went out to 
dinner. I chose the restaurant this time, Dominic’s, where the lobster was as fresh as a teenage
boy on a hot date with the easiest girl in school.

The next day was no better. All I was getting for my efforts was an increase of my tan, save
for the lighter areas where ropes covered, and a drowsy afternoon nap. Actually, I realized that
I was going to have to take a different tack when I found the men at the restaurant gazing at 
the patterns of suntan on my limbs suggestive (to those who KNOW) of restraints.

Then I hit upon an idea. It was so simply that I cursed myself for not having thought of it 
before. I simply ran an classified ad in the local newspaper. Of course, I didn’t say, “Will the 
man who found me naked and tied to a post in my garden, and who keep me naked and tied 
up in his van all night, please come back?” That would have been a bit too much for the 
conservative newspaper editor, who was also an old friend of our family’s. Instead I simply said
Gary N. was to please contact D. M. I included no address or phone number, he knew where 
to get me. Then I waited.

It would be wonderful if I could relate that he came running at my bidding, ropes in hand, 
ready to make my fantasies come true. But he didn’t.

After five days of waiting I was getting very frustrated, angry, and considering calling 
Marvin over to tie me in a hogtie with dildo inside me for an afternoon. Or maybe all night, I 
was getting so frustrated and horny that I might just order Marvin to lock me in my bedroom 
all night.

Just as I was reaching for the phone when George, the butler, came with die afternoon 
mail. I placed it beside the phone in the study. I was waiting for him to leave before calling 
Marvin with orders when I noticed a small envelope sticking out from among larger letters.

I pulled it out and noticed that it bore no return address. Intrigued, I opened it to reveal a 
single sheet of paper with a very neat handwriting. It read:

Dear Darlene, Saw your advertisement. If you were to come to the beach, one mile above 
Fletcher Cove, to the path leading to the old Milton place, you’ll find something interesting.

Come wearing only a bikini, bright red in color, and nothing else. Tuesday. Seven p.m.

Sincerely, Gary

My heart did a flip-flop. He wanted to see me again! He could have just walked up to my 
door and knocked, but this way was much more mysterious. And romantic. Ah, a rendezvous 
on a sandy beach at twilight, how very romantic! Would he have champagne on ice, or merely 
a handful of ropes? I laughed at my own silliness.

Tuesday the note said, and Tuesday was that very day. I knew that I shouldn’t go but also 
knew that I would. This was just too good to turn up. I hurried to my bedroom to pick out a 
red bikini.

I had only three that would be called bright red. Mostly I prefer black bikinis to show off 
my blonde hair better, but had a mixture of other colors. I selected one of rather dark but still 
bright red. It also revealed far more of me than the others, almost too much for a public 
beach. But I knew that the area he named would be not very crowded at that time on a 
Tuesday night. There were very few houses around and it was a good walk from the nearest 
public parking.

I hurried down a light meal because I suspected that I would be unable to eat after six 
o’clock, and probably not wanting to take time our for food, anyway. Then I hurried off to my 
red Corvette and was quickly racing down the highway, my heart racing as fast as the engine.

I parked the car, and hid the key under the wheel well, on top of the tire. There was no 
place in that string bikini to put a key. And, besides, he had said nothing else but a bikini.

As I swished out of the parking lot and along the beach, I turned quite a few heads, both 
male and female, which made me feel good. I always enjoy having people look at my body 
with envy and longing.

The path he mentioned was almost two miles from the public parking. There were cliffs to 
the right with the ocean hissing to the left. The cliffs held a few homes along the top, but not 
many. Occasionally erosion had carved a small canyon in the cliff face, and on some of those 
could be seen trails heading upward.

I reached the path to the Milton house before seven o’clock. I had no watch to check, but 
was pretty sure that I was the better part of an hour early. Off to the left, the sun was still a bit 
above the horizon, the days being fairly long at that time of year. I looked around but all I 
could see were a few tiny dots of people back the way I had come. In the other direction the 
sand stretched out for another half mile then ended in some rocks that tumbled into the 
waves. There was no sign, only those who had been raised or lived for quite a while in our 
sleepy little town would have known about the Milton house, abandoned for over five years 
now while the Milton children fought over their parent’s estate. None of them would allow the
others to occupy the place until the court cases were finished, and that might last another five
years. Meantime the place was empty and falling slowly into disrepair.

For a while I sat in the sand, wondering if he would come down the path or along the 
beach. I felt as if I were fourteen again and getting nervous about my first real date. This man 
was so different from all the other men I had ever met.

When I was pretty sure it was at least seven o’clock, I got up and looked around. No one 
was in sight. Did he mean that I was to follow the path? My other choices were to continue 
along the beach, or return back the way I came. I couldn’t see him standing me up. That just 
didn’t seem like it would fit him. No, if it was seven o’clock and he wasn’t here, then there was 
something I was suppose to do. I glanced around again.

It was laying on the ground next to the path, half under a bush. I went over and picked up 
a small nylon bag. Inside I found a pair of handcuffs, those heavy kind that don’t have a 
connecting chain but were the cuffs are hinged together. I had seen a pair like that on the 
news one night but never in person. They felt very heavy in my hands and quite solidly built. I 
put the handcuffs on a rock and reached into the bag again. This time I pulled out a second 
pair of handcuffs, these being the more normal ones with a chainlike link joining the two 
metal cuffs. I put those down on top of the first pair. The only other item in the bag was a 
small note written in a neat and familiar hand. It read:

Take off your bikini. Place both parts in this bag. Hide the bag under the bush. Put the 
chain handcuffs on your ankles. Close the steel cuffs until they are snug on your ankles.

Then put the hinged pair on your wrists, behind your back. Also click them until they are 
quite snug.

Then come up the path. I’ll be waiting.

What did this man think I was, a fool? Here I was, out on a public beach, still plenty of 
sunlight left, and he wanted me to take of my bikini? And then lock my own ankles and wrists 
together. This was madness.

I looked up the path. The dirt trail, rather faint from very little use, wound up the canyon 
and disappeared near the top of the cliffs. It would be a ten minute climb with unfettered feet.
With handcuffs on my ankles, it might take me hours. Especially if my hands were locked 
behind my back. It would be much easier to use my hands to help me up the steeper parts.

I picked up the chain pair and weighed them in my hand. Maybe if I were to carry them up
the trail, then put them on near the top … That would certainly save me a lot of effort. But as I 
scanned the trees along the top of the cliff I realized that he could be hiding among them and
watching me from a hundred places. If I cheated, he would know. And I didn’t want that. There
was something about Gary that made me have to obey him.

Or maybe it was just my submissive nature. I looked up and down the beach, noting that 
the only people were quite far down the beach. With a sigh and tingle of excitement, I untied 
the tiny strings holding up my tiny bits of cloth. I put them in the bag and tossed it back 
under the bush. I know that I was nearly naked a few seconds before, but standing there 
without those tiny bits of cloth felt a lot different. Before there was at least a hint of 
respectability. Now I was naked to the world.

I bent over and attached one cuff to my right ankle. I clicked it until it was snug and there 
was no way I would be slipping it off. Then I locked the other cuff around my other ankle. I 
stood up and sighed. That had been the point of no return. Without a key, it would take me all
night to shuffle a couple miles back to the car. And when I got there, I would be naked and 
shackled for all to see. I could not go back to my car until someone else took off those cuffs 
for me.

With a sigh, I picked up the hinged cuffs and locked one about my right wrist. It clicked 
very solidly and held my wrists in a steel grip. With a quick look back down the beach, I put 
my hands behind me and worked fingers around until I could push the cuff closed. I clicked it 
until I felt snug metal all around my wrist.

I tested the cuffs. It was a strange feeling because they didn’t allow you to move your 
hands around. I had worn the regular handcuffs a few times. But these were heavier and 
allowed only a little up and down motion of my hands. They were quite a bit more restrictive 
than the normal kind.

I began my shuffle up the dirt path, hoping that no one was looking at me with binoculars 
or a telescope. I wasn’t very close to people but someone along the top of the cliff with 
optical aid would see both my nudity and restrained condition.

It was a long path to a girl with joined ankles. And I found that hurrying was a mistake. If I 
failed to take small, careful steps, I snubbed my ankles. Several times I almost fell. Such a 
mistake would only get me dirty at first but as I climbed, a misstep could well cast me down 
for quite a fall.

To say that I cursed myself for all kinds of a fool would be an understatement. As the sun 
set over the ocean, I was lit with golden, then orange light, showing for all to see my naked 
body and glinting off the shinning steel of my restraints. The sun was gone and it was nearly 
full darkness before I reached the top. It had taken a long time, well over an hour, for me to 
make a climb a ten year old boy would scamper up in five minutes.

But I would be lying if I were to say that there wasn’t also a bit of excitement. I had 
removed my top to get a better tan at the beach, but always while I lay on my stomach to 
keep my breasts hidden. Now I was actually walking (shuffling) around fully naked. And I could
not change this condition easily. My only clothing was far below me at the bottom of the cliff 
and, even had I been down there, I could not put on that thin bikini with hands locked behind 
me. It was exciting to be doing this. The danger of discovery was very real and added spice. 
And there was the anticipation of what would happen to me when I reached my goal.

There was no one at the top of the cliff. I turned around with shuffling steps but could see 
no light, no lighter shape to tell me that a man stood nearby. And it was getting dark. The 
idea that perhaps I was the butt of a huge joke flashed before me. Would I have to walk back 
down that cliff, shuffle along the beach, only to be arrested for indecent exposure when I 
reached my car hours later? I guessed that I could tell the police that I was accosted on the 
beach and my bathing suit taken, the same culprit having attached these handcuffs to my 
wrists and ankles. They might believe me. Hell, they probably would. But it would be terribly 
embarrassing. And there would be a lot of people to see me before the police arrived. I hoped
that Gary was having a very good laugh, wherever he was.

Then I saw a faint glimmer of light. It was from the old Milton house, a flickering yellow 
light, like a candle. Like a moth heading towards its doom, I followed the flickering flame.

Gary was there. Across the patio of the old house, he was standing by the door to what 
must have been a den or lounge. A single candle flickered within, illuminating the room dimly.
At the sight of that bastard casually leaning against the door frame, I wanted to rush forward 
and throw my arms around his neck. But I could do neither, handcuffs being very secure 
restrictions. Instead I shuffled over to where he stood.

“Well, you bastard, I hope you’re happy. You’ve made me expose myself in public, not to 
mention that horrible climb up the cliff. You’re a sadist.”

Gary nodded agreement and took me in his arms. His kiss was everything I remembered: 
heaven on earth. It lasted a long time and when we finally broke, my anger was drained away. 
“I might point out that you were the one who removed your covering,” he pointed out with 
maddening logic. “And you were the one who put those handcuffs on. No one else was 
around.”

I did not unleash an angry retort. The heat had been taken away from my anger and 
channeled towards my loins. This man had the most amazing effect on me.

Gary Norton knelt down and unlocked the handcuffs from my ankles. “Come here,” he 
said, and I followed him inside.

There was a bar stool in the middle of the room. Sofas rested against one wall, a bar filled 
another, and massive wooden beams passed overhead under the rather tall ceiling.

“Sit down.” I sat. He locked the handcuffs on my ankles again, with the chain passed 
around the rung of the bar stood. Then he unlocked the hinged pair from my wrists. My 
natural reaction was to bring my arms forward and message my wrists but I forced myself to 
keep my arms hanging down, and partly behind me. I just knew that my arms were not to 
enjoy freedom, at least not for a while.

I was right. I felt my arms gathered together and rope going around my elbows. He pulled 
the rope very tight and my elbows were crushed together. He wrapped rope around them and
cinched it down with other windings. Then he knotted it with hard jerks. I knew that I would 
not be undoing those ropes by myself. He tied my wrists together with the same degree of 
tightness.

Then he removed the handcuffs from my feet, marking the first time that steel was not 
locked on me since the bottom of the cliff. Of course, my arms being so tightly bound behind 
me made me totally under his control. He knelt down and bound my ankles together.

I almost told him that I didn’t want my ankles tied together. I wanted my legs able to 
spread wide open. But this man was more than a man. He was my Master. I’ll admit it. I was 
under his spell, a silly, foolish female allowing a man to become the most important thing in 
the world to her. If he wanted my legs tied together, that would be fine with me.

Then he tied another length of rope to that already on my ankles and tossed the end of it 
over the nearest beam. My heart did a flip-flop. He didn’t intend to do what I was thinking … 
He couldn’t. It was a terrible thing to happen to a girl. He wouldn’t.

In less time than it takes to tell it, I was swinging in midair, hanging by my ankles, totally 
upside down. It all happened so fast that I hardly had time to react.

“Ohhhhh! Gary, no! Please, don’t hang me upside down.” My numerous protests went 
unheeded. I could only watch in fascination as he knotted the rope to a part of the bar. In the 
flickering candle light, it was so strange to see this man coming towards me upside down.

The ceiling in that room was tall and the beams pretty high. I was hoisted up so high that 
my head came to the level of Gary’s hips. As he stood before me, the thought came to me 
that I was about the right height if he wanted me to suck on his penis, a thought that sent a 
shiver of disgust and thrill down my spine. Or up my spine whatever.

Even hanging upside down, I could feel his animal presence almost overpowering me. All I 
wanted was for him to touch me, to bring pleasure to my body, to possess me. That might 
seem strange from a woman who scoffs at most men and considers them quivering little 
wimps. But this man was not most men. This was a Man.

He slowly undressed. It was both a show and simply the act of taking off his clothes. I was 
very much aware of my nudity, the tight ropes on my arms and cutting into my ankles.

When he got down to the nitty-gritty, it was obvious that he was ready. But how could he 
screw me while I hung upside down? I was on the verge of telling him that he had made a 
mistake when he walked over to the bar and picked up a stick. As he walked back I realized 
that it wasn’t a stick, but a riding crop. This was not going as I planned.

“Gary, please….” I pleaded. “Don’t whip me. Have sex with me instead.”

“Darlene,” he began. “Do you remember what I said you were?”

I remembered but said nothing. “Tell me now. What are you?”

“Oh, Gary, please….” I didn’t want to say it aloud even though a good part of me wanted 
to be it. My eyes were riveted on that riding crop in his hand. Finally I could hold it back no 
longer. “I am a slave.”

With that simple sentence, I forgo all chances to treat this man as an equal. Forever I 
would be nothing more than a possession to him, a toy, a thing to be used as he pleased.

Loved perhaps but still not an equal. And the terrible part was I wanted it that way.

“And what if your Master wishes not to screw you right now?”

“Then….” I forced out, “then he doesn’t have to.” I hated saying that.

“And what if he wishes to whip your bottom?” What a terrible game this was. But you have
to remember I was naked and hanging upside down. And not quite in control of myself.

“He may whip his slavegirl.” I didn’t believe I had said that.

“You understand.” He slowly walked around me. While he was behind me, I tensed my 
butt, expecting a fiery streak across it. But it didn’t come. He came around in front of me and I
was torn between looking at the black leather instrument of pain and his rigid rod. “I wish to 
whip your bottom,” he said calmly.

My heart sank. The only thought that formed in the turmoil of my mind was that perhaps 
he would give me the sex I so wanted after the whipping of my bottom.

He tied another piece of rope to my wrists and ran it over to the bar. When he pulled it 
and tied it off, my arms were pulled away from my body. Perhaps it was better that my hands 
not be anywhere near my bottom. The temptation to cover my bottom with hands would be 
great.

The first swat was as I expected-painful. He was strong man and the strokes delivered by 
his hand were explosions of pain in my flesh. I gasped and jerked around. Most have been a 
nice show for him, for he simply stood there, watching, until I calmed down to hang quietly. 
Then he delivered the second stroke on my other cheek.

After the fourth stroke I had to tell him, “I won’t be able to hold in the screams. This hurts 
and I will scream.”

I know that it was asking to be gagged, but it was the truth. We were in an abandoned 
house but a screaming girl might draw attention. As much as I was hurting, I really didn’t want
to be rescued.

“Try to keep them in,” was all he said.

Stupid bastard! He wasn’t on the receiving end, he didn’t know how much this hurt. Each 
time that crop slashed my bottom, I had to strain to hold in a cry of pain. Would serve him 
right, I thought, if my screams brought the police.

But I didn’t scream. My gasps and moans got pretty loud but I didn’t scream. After the 
twelfth or thirteenth stroke, I went into a frenzy of fighting the ropes. It was not planned, nor 
very smart, but my body simply said that it couldn’t take any more pain and it wanted out. I 
jerked around and struggled against the ropes but totally in vain. When Gary ties a girl, she 
stays tied.

He let my spasm of anger and frustration spend itself, then calmly continued the cropping 
of my bottom. I lost count of stokes, but kept an accounting of the ordeal by the amount of 
burn and pain in my bottom. It was horrible, yet a quiet voice in the back of my mind was 
telling me that this was not as bad as it could get.

It got worse. Looking back on the evening, I am sure that Gary was simply telling me the 
best way he could two facts of life. One was that a cropping was not the worst that could be 
done to a girl’s bottom. And second was that he could give me pain anytime he wished, for 
any reason he wished. Or no reason.

The whip was thin, flexible, black, and wicked. There was a thin strip of leather on the end.

He showed it to me. I said nothing. This was not what I had expected from this man. He 
took up position behind me and I tensed my already very sore bottom.

It was a very sharp pain that exploded in my bottom. I cried out and jerked my body into 
an arch. This was a hundred times worse than the riding crop. Maybe it was partly because my
bottom was already marked up and sore, but this thing hurt terribly.

“Please! Gary, Please! Don’t do this to me. Oh, it hurts so!” I went on like that in between 
strokes of that terrible thing. For a while after each stroke I could get no words out at all, only 
strangled sounds of agony.

My poor bottom! I realized then that the riding crop had been only to warm up my flesh 
for the read pain. I could envision the flesh torn and hanging in bloody strips from this 
torture.

This was not what my foolish heart had expected from a meeting with Gary.

But a woman is a strange creature. As the whipping ended, Gary tossed aside the whip and
placed his body squarely before mine, his very rigid tool before my nose. Without being told 
to, I took it in my mouth. Eagerly I worked my mouth around his tool, teased it with my 
tongue, and sucked, none too gently. At the same time, his fingers were spreading apart my 
labia. My legs being bound together gave him a little resistance but he was able to push his 
nose between my legs and get his tongue to where it would do a very effective job of licking 
my most sensitive spot. Electric shocks jolted my body each time his tongue touched me 
there, and I was suddenly aware of what an incredibly high state of sexual excitement my body
was in.

But I did little logical thinking right then. I simply let instinct take over and worked his 
penis like there was no tomorrow. Meantime his tongue was doing roughly the same thing for
me. With very good timing, he sensed that I was near an orgasm and his hands clamped onto 
my bottom, squeezing my cheeks hard. The very sore flesh there screamed and sent fiery pain 
messages into my body. Instantly I climaxed with an intensity hard to believe.

I was only vaguely aware of it, but at the same time he shoved his penis deep into my 
mouth and a few seconds later had his orgasm. I think I swallowed his cum but I wasn’t too 
much aware of anything at that point.

When I came to, I was no longer hanging upside down. My arms were still bound together
but my legs were free. I was laying on a blanket, next to Gary, and apparently out in the 
garden. A short distance away the ground dropped away to a beautiful view of stars, ocean, 
and the small village of San Helena all lit up like jewels. It was beautiful but what was nicer was
his strong body next to mine, my head on his shoulder.

As I came to, I was aware of a burning in my bottom. Gingerly, I explored with finger tips 
the flesh I fully expected to be cut to pieces. I found it sore and ridged with swollen flesh but 
apparently not cut. I would have trouble sitting down for awhile and had no desire to show 
my bottom off to anyone, but apparently no serious damage had been done.

“Gary … Master, why did you hurt me so much?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“You wanted to,” I repeated stupidly. “A Master does not have to explain his wishes to a 
slave. That should be obvious.”

And it was, in a funny but logical sort of way. My only reply was a, “Yes, Master,” that, while
sounding corny, was sincere. If this man wanted to whip my bottom, I would endure.

If he wanted to then lick my sex into a fine climax, then I would also endure that.

As I lay there in the cool evening air, naked and with arms still bound, I was content. In a 
way it was nice to not have to worry about making choices. Whatever my master wanted 
would be fine with me. Maybe not very liberated, but certainly satisfactory to something deep 
inside of me.

A while later, I ventured, “Master … Will you tell me where you live? I tried to find out.”

“I know. But for now it pleases me to not tell you.”

“Don’t slaves have any rights?” I asked but with no anger in my voice.

“No.” I didn’t challenge that. I was content with it. A while later, I tried again. “Will you 
whip my bottom every time we meet?”

“If it pleases me.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I won’t. Simple, no?”

“Yes, Master.”

For a long time we lay there, each one content. But my body betrayed me. Sometimes I 
hate being a woman, but the alternative is worse. I snuggled down until my head was on his 
stomach. Then I turned a bit and kissed his flat, hard stomach. Then I trailed kisses down his 
body. A dozen kisses later I had his rod in my mouth and was showing him what I wanted.

Looking back, it seemed natural doing that at the time. I am still amazed that I could even 
act so much like a slut, a wanton woman with no regard for her own dignity. I knelt there and 
performed oral worship of his sex, and never doubted it was the perfect thing to do.

He held back as I worked on him, and I didn’t get it in my mouth. But when he could no 
longer contain himself, he rolled me over on the grass, spread my legs wide and entered me 
with a vigor shove. He instantly sank deeply into me, my pussy having already become filled 
with the juices of lovemaking. It was a very fine roll in the hay, notwithstanding my very sore 
and tender bottom and the fact that I was laying on bound arms. But I didn’t care. This was 
great.

Much later, probably around midnight, he untied my arms. But he immediately locked the 
hinged handcuffs upon my wrists behind my back. I didn’t mind until he told me that it was 
time for me to go. I begged but he silenced me with a hard swat across my poor bottom.

As I watched by candle light, he tied the handcuff key to a small, plastic vial. Then he bent 
the plastic until there was a cracking sound. Suddenly the plastic stick began glowing with a 
pale green color.

With one hand on my arm, he walked me over to the top of the path I had so laboriously 
climbed hours before. He threw the light stick out over the cliff. I watched fascinated as it 
tumbled end over end through the air to come to rest on the sand of the beach. I could just 
make out the green glow.

“If the string didn’t come untied,” he told me, “then the key will still be with the glow stick.

And you’ll be able to unlock the handcuffs when you get down there.”

“Oh, no! Gary, please don’t do this to me. What if I can’t get these handcuffs undone?

How can I climb down that steep trail in the dark with no hands? How can you do such a 
terrible thing to me?”

“You’ll stay handcuffed, you’ll fall, and it is easy.”

“Huh?”

A mild slap on my bottom reminded me how sore the flesh there was. Then he was gone.

My first impulse was to follow him into the darkness but I held back. That was not the way 
he wanted to play the game. I sighed and began down the dirt trail to the beach. It was not 
easy to find footing in the dark, but I could dimly make out the path in the glow from the 
town. Moonlight would have been nice. Half way down the path I suddenly wanted to hurry 
when I realized that anyone walking along the beach would be attracted to that glowing stick 
with its key. It certainly wouldn’t be pleasant to get down there and find someone else had 
already taken my key away.

I fell a couple times but managed to not slide all the way down the trail. At the bottom, I 
halted and looked carefully both ways before venturing out onto the sand. I could see that 
green glow in the sand only twenty feet away. No one seemed to be around so I dashed out 
towards it.

I felt to my knees beside the glowing stick. It seemed very bright, far too bright. I was sure 
than anyone down the beach, back by the pier, would easily see this green glow if they only 
looked this way. I wondered if they could also see the naked body next to the stick.

Was that green glow strong enough for that? I turned my back to it and bend down.

Grabbing the stick, I scrambled back to my feet and dashed for the base of the cliff. I was 
still out in plain view there but felt a little safer.

There began a very frustrating period of time for me. Those handcuffs were not made for 
unlocking from within. I could hardly find the hole, let alone fit the key in it. The angle I had to
bend my hand and fingers made for awkward work. Many times I dropped the key and had to 
bend down to find it again.

But finally I was rewarded with a soft click and the steel cuff loosened around my right 
wrist. Gratefully I brought my hands around in front of me and unlocked the other cuff.

Then I retrieved the nylon bag. I carefully closed and folded the handcuffs into the bag, 
being sure to include the key. The glowing stick I tossed up the cliff. Then I donned my bikini 
and began a long walk back towards the pier.

I didn’t hurry. I could tell by the stars that it was late, but I wanted to make sure that I 
arrived long after the usual beach crowd was gone home for the evening. I would still be very 
visible from the pier and those apartments over the beach side stores, but there was nothing I 
could do about that. I simply hoped that they would think it was a swimmer who fell asleep 
and was only now returning to her car.

It is always strange to me how a tiny bit of cloth makes a girl feel safe and secure. That 
bikini hardly covered more than my nipples and pubic hair, yet I felt perfectly correct in 
walking around in public in it. Yet I would have been terribly embarrassed to be walking in the 
same place with no clothing.

I retrieved the key and tossed the nylon bag into my car. As I was crossing over to the 
driver’s side, I noticed a police man standing not far away. I waved cheerfully to him and got 
in the car as fast as I could. I had to wonder if he could see my beaten and marked up rear 
end in the lights from the parking lot. And what did he think, if I did see tortured flesh?

A quick shower felt good, although the hot water did no good for my bottom. I looked at 
myself in the mirror and was amazed. My bottom was covered from side to side, and top to 
bottom, with vividly colored streaks of raised skin. There was no mistaking what had 
happened there. This was a whipped ass and there was no way I could hide that. I would not 
be wearing bikinis until these marked faded away.

I fell asleep, aware only of the feel of fresh sheets against my sore flesh.





CHAPTER FIVE - I Make a Mistake


I had to hide my ass for a few days. The skimpy bikinis I usually wore, and even the thin 
summer dresses, revealed far too much for me to hide what had happened. Anyone looking at
me would know that my bottom had been beaten, and not a little, either.

I thought about what happened a lot during the next few days. It hadn’t been what I 
expected. I guess I was ready for a repeat of the first night, certainly not to be hung upside 
down and have my bottom whipped until I was crying. Yet it had been in incredible 
experience, filled with vivid emotions. Made all the other men and every date in my life seem 
tame by comparison.

And I wondered for a while if I had liked it or not. Might sound like a silly question. But it 
made a difference to me. I had to know if it was something I would like to repeat. The first 
day, while wearing far heavier dresses that I usually do, and wincing every time I sat down, I 
was certain that I would never wish to repeat that experience again. The second day, when my 
bottom wasn’t so tender, I was borderline. On the third day, I began to grow horny and my 
bottom didn’t hurt when I sat down. There were still marks so I stayed aWay from the bikinis 
for a while. By the forth day I had returned to my usual state of constantly thinking about 
being tied up and having sex. And the answer to the question was, yes, I would return to Gary,
even if I knew it would mean the exact same treatment again.

Which left me with a problem. I still didn’t now how to contact Gary. The bastard was 
being very mysterious. I had to wonder why. It was exciting to have a mystery man who 
evoked such strong and strange feelings in me. In a sense, I didn’t want the mystery to leave.

What if he turned out to be married with a fat wife and three bratty kids? I just couldn’t 
take that. Rather I would only see him rarely and never know the truth.

There was, of course, a way to contact him. The newspaper classified had worked once, 
surely it would work again. But each time I picked up a pencil to write out an ad, I paused.

Would could I say? Even if I only said that I wished to contact him, it would be as if I were 
crawling back to him, begging him to treat me like a … Well, like a whore. Or a slave. I guess 
that was the right word: slave. When I was with Gary, I felt like belonging to him, to be his 
possession. I had never felt that way for any man before, but this man who could give such 
pleasure and so much pain was different.

Finally I decided to play a game of my own. I wrote up an ad that read:

Gary, I will be at the same house Friday night, same time, dressed for partying.

I figured that should tell him that I wanted to meet with him again, yet not sound too 
much like begging. He would, of course, know that the house was the old Milton place, the 
only house we’ve ever been at together. And “dressed for partying” could only mean that I 
would be naked and ready for fun and games.

And was I planning on being there five days in the future? You bet!

Maybe I was crazy. A lot of women would call me that for wanting to be so mistreated by a
man, any man. But there was something about this relationship that went beyond anything 
those women could ever understand.

I stamped the envelope and dropped the letter to the newspaper in the outgoing mail.

Then I made a major mistake.

Having overpowering sex drive is a curse. Perhaps I have over active glands. Or maybe 
being in a nearly constant state of arousal is normal for a girl of nineteen. Whatever, I called 
Marvin.

He hadn’t been over for several days, and I kidded myself by saying that I was giving him a
treat. Actually, I was giving myself the treat. After the call, I laid out some ropes and the dildo 
on the bed. Just touching that amazing piece of plastic shaped like a male phallus sent shivers
down my spine. I could feel my nipples grow taunt and my loins warming up in anticipation of
what was to come.

Marvin was a little too slow in getting there, so I pulled up the dress until it was bunched 
around my waist, then played with myself, one hand clutching my breast, the other teasing my
clit. When a finger found my vagina juicy and ready, I grabbed the dildo and inserted it myself.
It felt so good going in. So good.

When it was totally in me, only the flared end still outside, I clenched my legs together to 
hold it in place and reached for a length of rope. I made a sliding loop and tightened that 
down around my waist until the rope was cutting into my tummy. Then I passed it between 
my legs and over the loop behind me. I ran the rope three times between my legs, until the 
dildo was solidly held inside me. The tight ropes felt so very good. I actually had to exercise 
self-discipline to keep my body from building right up to a climax.

With the dildo solidly in place and unable to come out, I pulled my dress down and went 
downstairs to wait for Marvin. It felt so very strange to walk with that huge thing inside me, 
each step made it move a tiny amount but enough to excite me. It was a long walk to the 
front door with me trying to not betray the excitement within. Can you imagine how hard it 
was to act normal?

Marvin mercifully came just as I reached the door. I greeted him enthusiastically and 
practically dragged him back to the bedroom, ignoring the normal pleasantries. In the 
bedroom, I slammed closed the door and tossed off my dress. Marvin, who is used to my wild 
games, looked more than a little shocked when he saw the dildo already tied in place.

I turned my back and put my arms together, then told him to hurry with the ropes.

But he just stood there. I looked back and found him staring at my bottom. Then I 
remembered the marks there, unmistakable whip marks.

“Don’t pay any attention to those,” I told him. “Please tie my arms really tight, like you 
usually do.”

“Those are whip marks,” he said quietly.

“Yes. Now please tie my arms.”

“Where did you get them?” He sounded like his whole world was crashing down.

“None of your business,” I said abruptly. “So I got my bottom whipped a bit. Right now I 
want to be in a really tight hogtie. Please?” It sounded more like an order than a polite 
request.

Marvin just looked at the discolored flesh of my bottom as if he had never seen a girl 
naked before. I don’t know why I said what I said next, but I did. “Marvin, after you tie my arms
and legs together, you may take your belt and whip my bottom. Then hogtie me on the bed.”

I didn’t say it because I wanted him to enjoy the act. Actually, I’m not sure why I told him 
to whip my bottom. I guess it was just because I thought that would snap him into action.

It did. But as he bound my arms, his hands were slower than normal and I could sense he 
was looking down at my still slightly tender flesh. Especially when he tied my wrists, which 
were just above that punished area. But he did tie my arms, and that was what I wanted.

All I could think about was how good it would feel when he finished with the hogtie and I 
was left alone and helpless.

I sat on the edge of the bed as I usually did so he could tie my legs together. Then I rolled 
over on my stomach. I didn’t bend my legs up for the hogtie, I fully expected him to beat my 
bottom before that. I didn’t expect it to be much of a whipping, he was too much of a wimp 
to really tear into a girl’s ass.

But he didn’t take the belt to my bottom at all. Instead he bent my legs up and finished 
the hogtie. At least he did it as tightly as he could and I knew that I would really be feeling 
those ropes in the hours to come.

“Four hours,” I said as I glanced at the clock. “I want you to come back and untie me in 
four hours. Not a second sooner.”

He meekly assured me that he would be back exactly at the appointed time. Then he left.

For a while my entire world consisted of tight ropes holding my body prisoner, and that 
wonderful dildo filling me up inside. I thrashed around on the bed, rolling from side to side, 
and arching my body to strain against the ropes. The first climax was very intense, very quick, 
and very satisfying.

For a while I drifted along on that sexual high that is so wonderful and unlike anything else
in the world. When I came back to earth, it was to painfully tight ropes and the knowledge 
that I had still three and a half hours before those ropes would be peeled from my flesh. It was
a frightening yet comforting thought.

In between the first and second orgasms, I wondered why Marvin hadn’t beaten my 
bottom like I told him to. He had never disobeyed an order. Then I realized that I hadn’t really 
ordered him to beat my ass. I had said, “you may take your belt and whip my bottom.” I 
hadn’t really made it a direct order, only informed him that he could do it, if he wished. 
Apparently he did not wish.

I should have been disappointed but was not. What was happening to me was pretty 
good. But I had, I admitted to myself, been telling him that I would like the whipping on my 
bottom refreshed. In which case, I sternly told myself, I should have made it a direct order.

Like I said, this had been a mistake. At the time, it seemed only as if I were getting the 
usual treatment from Marvin, a few hours of hogtie and sexual satisfaction. But it was to prove
much more than that.

When Marvin returned, I should have seen the nervousness in his face. But my arms and 
legs were aching and after as many orgasms as I had worked myself into, I was ready only for 
a hot bath. I felt his fingers touching the ropes connecting my ankles to my wrists and felt a 
happiness that soon I would be able to unfold my body.

But things suddenly departed from the plan. Instead of untying me, Marvin knelt on the 
bed and pulled my hair together behind my head from where it had been tossed around in 
disarray. Then there was a rubber ball pressing against my lips. In surprise, I opened my mouth
to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. Mistake. The ball was suddenly in my 
mouth, being wedged in behind my teeth. Then he was buckling the strap behind my head.

I shook my head, as much as I could but Marvin had his own plans. And I could do nothing
about it. I was very naked, and very well tied with ropes. And then I was silenced by that big 
ball gag.

While I stared at him with wide, questioning eyes, Marvin pulled a leather bag from his 
pocket. As he opened it, I realized that it was a discipline hood. I had seen pictures of a girl 
wearing one once and it had looked like a horrible torture. I shook my body and made 
protesting noises through my nose, but Marvin simply ignored them as he placed the leather 
bag over my head, smoothing out the soft black leather, then lacing it up on back until my 
whole head was encased in tight leather.

There was only a hole for my nose to stick out and breath. With the gag already in place, 
this hood robbed me of sight and a fair amount of hearing. There were no holes around the 
ears, so any sounds had to work their way through the leather pressing tightly over my head.

Wild thoughts of Marvin deciding to play a game of his own raced though my mind, 
accompanied by disbelieve that the wimp could ever work up enough courage to try such a 
thing. Secretly, I was thrilled, although I would never had admitted that to him. A girl like me is
not the same as other girls. The idea of being helpless is a strong addiction. I had been 
expecting release, as per my orders. Now I was even more helpless and did not know when I 
would gain that release. It was scary but to the submissive nature inside me, exciting.

For a while nothing happened and I thought that he had left. Was that his game? To leave 
me tied in the hogtie I had ordered for the night? With the gag and discipline hood in place, I 
could not call for my own servants to come to my aid. All he would have to do it tell George 
that I did not want to be disturbed until the next morning, and my bedroom door would not 
open until then. That was certainly a cruel joke on me. I had already suffered through four 
hours of discomfort, now I was faced with another twelve to fourteen hours of the same. No, 
worse. That ball gag was forcing my jaws apart and I knew that the muscles would be aching 
before long, and screaming at me not long after that.

Served me right for expecting any man to simply play along with my games. Having to tie 
up my naked body had proven too much for Marvin. Hell, most men would have raped me 
long before this. Then it occurred to me that perhaps Marvin was only doing what he thought 
would please me. I mean, if I got satisfaction and pleasure from four hours, wouldn’t I enjoy 
much more eighteen hours?

But I felt hands touching me and knew that I wasn’t alone anymore. The hands were 
checking the ropes, testing each knot and wrapping. Satisfied that I was helpless, the hands 
then untied the lacing on the discipline hood, only to tighten them down with hard jerks. 
When the knots were tied again, the hood was noticeably tighter about my head.

Another few minutes passed then I felt something going on at the junction between my 
wrists and ankles. When the area was jerked several times, I realized that another rope had 
been tied to those already around my hands and feet. Then I was picked up by four hands and
carried from the bed.

I let out with a gasp of surprise! Two hands were all that Marvin possessed. Who was the 
other person? Or was one set even Marvin? I had assumed it was Marvin returning to me, but 
perhaps it was someone else totally. Was it George, my own butler? I knew that he was aware 
of my little games but disapproved. That’s why I had Marvin do all the tying instead of 
ordering my servants. If it was George, did he have the cook or gardener helping? And where 
they taking me?

Then came an idea that sent a cold chill down my spine.

What if it were burglars? Terrorist? Kidnappers who would hold me for ransom? I was 
getting scared. A wonderfully delicious fear, but a very real one, nevertheless.

I felt the cool evening air against my skin and knew I was being carried out on the balcony.

Then I was lifted up and felt myself being placed on the wooden rail. I squealed and shook
my head. This was not funny. It was a good drop to the patio below and I didn’t appreciate 
being tormented with the fear of falling and getting hurt. I cried out when I felt myself being 
pushed off.

The fall was only a few inches but suddenly I was arched backwards, my hands and feet 
being held by the ropes but my body sagging downward as I hung over the edge. Then, very 
slowly and with tiny jerks, I felt myself being lowered.

It was a long journey and I was fearful every inch of the way that someone would let slip 
the rope and I would fall, a helpless bundle of female body about to break bones on the 
flagstones below. But whoever held the rope was strong and I felt a pair of hands receive me. I
was lowered to the rough stone pavement to lay there for a few minutes. I guessed whoever 
had lowered me over the rail was coming down to reclaim his package. I was right. A minute 
later I was again picked up by four hands and carried away.

It’s not easy to judge where you’re being taken when you’re blindfolded, and quite 
helpless. But I was pretty sure I was being taken around the side of the house and to the 
driveway in front. I was put down on something hard and scratchy against my breasts.

Then a slamming sound and a hard surface pressing against my feet told me that I was in 
the trunk of a car and locked in.

The car started up and drove away with me inside.





CHAPTER SIX - Becoming a Slavegirl


As I was transported away from my home in a state of complete helplessness, I was confused. I
could not believe that this was Marvin’s plan, he simply wasn’t capable of such independent 
action. And George would never do anything like this to me. In times passed when he found 
me tying myself up someplace on the grounds, he usually delivered a polite but firm lecture 
about the how wrong it was. If not Marvin or George, then who?

Gary! I cursed myself for not having thought of it sooner. He was man enough to just walk 
into my home and kidnap me. He was man enough to haul me off to be his slavegirl for as 
long as he wanted.

But it had been Marvin who put the gag and discipline hood on me. Had it been Marvin’s 
joke to leave me over night in the hogtie, but then Gary came along? Perhaps neither men 
knew what the other was doing … That might be the right answer but it seemed a bit much to 
imagine it happen that way.

But I did hope when the discipline hood came off, my captive eyes would see the rugged 
features of Gary Norton smiling down at me.

The drive was long. I had expected that it would be over in a few minutes, but those few 
minutes stretched out until I was not sure how much time had passed. My arms and legs 
ached. My jaw was beginning to ache from that damned rubber ball. And I was beginning to 
find out why they call it a discipline hood. It was hot in that trunk, my bare skin knew that. But 
it was hotter inside that hood. The tight leather pressing against my head on all sides kept the
heat in. I could feel myself sweating in there. And the damned thing does terrible things to a 
girl. It’s easy to say that it is like a blindfold in that it you can’t see out.

But that doesn’t convey the full feeling of having your whole head encased in tight leather.

I guess it’s sort of claustrophobic, the way it makes you feel closed in. I had felt pretty 
helpless after four hours of a tight hogtie, but that discipline hood made me fell twice as 
helpless.

But it was not hard to believe that a man who would hang me upside down and beat my 
ass until it was swollen and sore would not think twice about making me endure a discipline 
hood for a few hours. Or however long it would be.

I never will know for sure how long I was captive in that trunk but I am sure it was over 
four hours. I was sweaty, sore, my jaw ached terrible, and I was beginning to image all sorts of 
horrible fates for me. I was kidnapped and would be held for ransom. I was being taken out 
into the country were I would be killed and my body dumped into a shallow grave. Gary’s 
mind had snapped and I was being taken away to a lifetime of horrible tortures. Marvin’s mind
had snapped. Or that this car ride would never end and I’d spend all eternity hogtied and 
suffering in the heat and rough ride.

Finally the car stopped. For a long time I lay there, almost too tired and pained to care 
about anything except that perhaps now I would get out of that damned trunk. Getting that 
discipline hood off would be wonderful, too. I was ready to promise anything to the person 
who unlaced it.

I was lifted out of the trunk and carried off, the cold night air washing over my body, 
bringing blessed relief. I was set down on a hard surface again, but not a trunk floor. Then the 
laces were worked at and loosened. It was so good when that hot, sweaty leather was peeled 
from my face. I had to blink several times before I could see anything. And the first image that 
came to me was of Marvin standing there, looking both nervous and happy at the same time. 
Boy, was I going to give him a piece of my mind when that gag came off.

Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and I turned to find a woman standing 
next to Marvin.

She was in her forties, I guessed, but a fine looking woman. And she still had a pretty good
figure, to judge from the way she filled out that short skirt and tight blouse. For a while I 
wondered who she might be then I saw a resemblance between the two people in front of me.

Marvin nervously asked, but not to me, “Mommy, dearest, couldn’t we take the gag out of 
her mouth? I’m sure she’s hurting from it.”

Mommy, dearest? Then this was Marvin’s mother! I remembered having met her at some 
social function or the other. I thought she always lived in Europe or someplace, not in Santa 
Helena even though they had a big house there.

“Cool it, junior. She’ll live. And it will keep her quiet.” Her voice was almost masculine, it 
was so low. Not that I questioned her sex for one minute. The blouse was a bit too thin and 
she wore no bra. I had good sized breasts for a woman my height, but she was bigger, much 
bigger. But the worse part was the sternness in that voice. This was a woman who was used to 
giving orders and having them obeyed.

“Yes, Mommy,” replied Marvin, the wimp.

“Yes, Darlene, I’m Marvin’s mother,” she said, rather sarcastically. I got the feeling that she 
didn’t think much of Marvin. But I was wrong. She loved him.

“You may call me Mistress. No first names, we don’t allow the slaves to get familiar with 
their owners.”

Slaves? Owners? What the hell was I involved with? And this woman was so unlike Marvin 
that it was hard to believe they were related.

“Marvin, put her in the cell. We’ll begin her training tomorrow.” She came closer until her 
face was only inches from my own as I lay on that table. “You are going to learn that you can’t 
tease and torment my son, and get away with it.” I could not miss the venom in her voice. 
“You are going to be a very sorry young girl. And, of course, you’ll have the rest of your life to 
regret your actions.” She smiled. In the background I could see Marvin nervously smiling also. 
“Marvin wanted to marry you, although I can’t see why. But you never took him seriously.” I 
could see him nodded his head in agreement behind her. “You played with him. You ordered 
him to tie you up, and put you in sexual positions, knowing full well what those would do to 
any healthy, red-blooded male.”

She backed off a few steps, for which I was glad. But her tirade was not over yet. “You 
tormented him by ordering him to do the very things he should have been doing to you and 
wanted to. But a slavegirl doesn’t give the orders. It should have been Marvin who told you 
where and when you would be tied up. And it should have been Marvin who told you when I 
was going to whip your bottom, not you telling him when to do it. Your little games with my 
son are now going to backfire on you. The silly twerp wanted you as his wife. Well, that’s not 
going to be. But he’ll have you as a slavegirl.”

She looked over at her son, who, although he was actually a fair sized man and not 
unhandsome, cringed away and seemed to shrink smaller under her gaze. “Maybe it’s time I 
taught him how to treat a slavegirl. Not that the wimp hasn’t seem slavegirls before.

He just doesn’t seem to have the backbone to train one for himself. So I’ll just do it for 
him.”

She turned back to me, having delivered the last speech in his direction. “I know how to 
keep a slavegirl. The Chateau has seen its share of them.” She laughed, but without humor. “I 
know how to train one. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be so meek and obedient that even 
Marvin won’t have trouble dominating you.” She paused to sneer his direction. “That will take 
some training, but I’ve the time to do it.” Then she smiled as she looked at my helpless nudity.
I knew how a mouse felt when I cat smiled at it. “I’m going to enjoy making you suffer for 
what you did to Marvin, and training you until you’re the most docile, meek slavegirl ever.”

She lifted her head regally. Then she walked around behind me. “Lift her,” she snapped 
and Marvin jumped to obey.

The cell was just that. It was a very small room with plain cement walls, a tiny window up 
high, and steel bars instead of a forth wall. A section of the bars was hinged as a door and was
standing open when the got to it. There was no furniture, only a cold, hard concrete floor. I 
was set down on that floor, the roughness and cold making me cringe as my breasts and 
tummy touched it.

“Marvin, get the chains,” his mother ordered, then turned to unknotting the ropes on my 
hands and feet. It was good to get those ropes off, but hurt as the circulation returned. I lay 
there when the ropes were finally totally off, my arms limp on the floor, while I cried into the 
gag from the pins and needles and other pains coursing through my arms.

I was not allowed freedom for long. My limp hands were gathered up on my back and 
locked together with a pair of handcuffs. The steel cuffs were shut very tightly. A second pair 
of handcuffs were locked around my arms just above the elbows. They didn’t pull my arms 
nearly as close together as ropes had held them, but I did feel securely restrained.

Another pair was locked around my ankles. I was then pulled a foot of so across the 
concrete floor with no regard for the pain that caused in my breasts, until my feet were next to
the bars of my cell. Then a pair of handcuffs was locked upon each ankle, the other cuff going 
up to a bar. Those two pairs of handcuffs were spread apart from my feet so that the effect 
was to lock my ankles to the bars. I was to find out a little later that this arrangement made it 
very difficult to turn on my side and impossible to roll over to my back.

“Get that damned dildo out of her,” Mommy dearest snapped and I felt Marvin’s hands at 
the ropes around my waist. His mother lifted my hips up while he unwound the ropes from my
waist and between my legs. The dildo had to be pulled out as if it were reluctant to leave me.

“Too much pleasure for her,” growled the woman as her son tossed my beloved dildo out 
of the cell. “Slaves don’t get pleasure, they give it.” I got the feeling she was telling both of us 
that fact.

As I lay there on the cold concrete floor, I wanted to cry. And I was very much afraid. I 
didn’t know what was going on but it was rather unpleasant and I wanted out. The woman 
was standing over me. “Come on, Junior. We’ll get back to her in the morning.”

“But, Mommy….”

“Leave the gag in. It will hurt her but the pain will be good to teach her what she is.

Besides, she’ll get a lot more pain tomorrow.” Which was followed by a laugh to haunt 
anyone’s nightmares.

They were gone. The light went out. I was alone, shackled up like a common criminal, and 
very unhappy. And I was still unable to believe that this was happening because of Marvin.

After the shock wore off a bit, I checked all the restraints on me but remained a helpless 
captive. The handcuffs were all clicked down very snugly against my skin, and I had no keys. 
Not that keys would have helped much. The door to my cell was closed and locked with a big 
padlock. I would have been a prisoner even without the handcuffs.

I cried myself to sleep.

7

Painful Introduction to Real Slavery

I awoke in the morning to find myself still handcuffed hand and foot, laying on a cell floor 
and hurting. After not having slept very well, due mosdy to my jaw hurting, I was tired, 
miserable, and ready to cry or scream. Or both. You don’t know how much a huge rubber ball 
shoved in your mouth for an entire night can hurt. Terrible pains would shoot up my jaw and 
along the side of my head. I found that I had been drooling because I could not close my 
mouth. And I couldn’t do a thing about this ugly pain. My arms were quite solidly locked 
behind my back. I could move the hands a bit to either side, but nowhere near my face. And I 
couldn’t roll on my back because of the way my ankles were chained to the bars. It had not 
been a very pleasant night.

If I had known then what was to happen to me during the day, I would have been glad for 
the mild miseries inflected upon my during the darkness hours.

To start off with, Marvin’s mother showed up. Marvin was nowhere in sight, only his 
impressive mother, dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, both rather tight to show off 
her good figure. It was obvious from the way the white silk pressed against her that she wore 
no bra, nor did she really need one. Those breasts were in fine shape, very large but firm. Her 
high heels clicked on the hard floor, announcing her approach. Oh, did I mention the riding 
crop hanging from the thin belt of her slacks?

“So you’re awake. Good. Today we will begin your training.” She squatted down so her face
was nearer. “You will be broken. Do you know what I mean? That means,” she continued 
without waiting for a reply I could not make, “that your spirit will be broken. As when a horse 
is broken to the saddle and its master’s whip. You will become a person with no concern for 
her own person, a slavegirl whose only wish is to please her Master, or Mistress. You will have 
no other thoughts beyond obeying. You will suffer tortures without demure, and give your all 
to pleasure your owner.”

She paused to look into my tear-stained eyes. “You do not believe me, I’m sure. But it will 
happen. It takes time, but all things worth doing take time. But eventually you will be broken. 
It does not matter how strong your spirit. You may resist all you can. But the tortures will wear 
you down. The knowledge that you are now the possession of another, and will be forever, will
weigh upon your mind. Eventually, you’ll come to love the pain given you. Eventually, you’ll 
thank me each time you are whipped. I see you know about being whipped.”

The reference to the marked condition of my bottom made me wince. Those marks had 
been put on by a man I … Well, I guess a man that I loved. They had hurt but they were also a 
mark that I was his. I didn’t want to be the property of this woman, or her nerd son.

“Do you have any idea what it does to a girl’s mind when she had been whipped every day
for a month, and knows that the whippings can, an might well, continue for every day of her 
life? You have no idea what real slavery is. You’ve been playing at it.” She sat down on the 
floor next to me. “You’ve had my son tie you up for a few hours now and then. You even 
offered to let him whip your ass with a belt. Big deal! Slavery is a full time thing, not 
something you can play at when you get horny. You’ve just spent an afternoon and a night in 
rope bondage and then chains. Handcuffs, actually. I’ll bet that’s the longest you’ve ever been 
restrained. But it’s only the beginning.”

I could not tell her of my being bound up all night by Gary, nor of the long time I hung 
upside down in an abandoned house while he made my bottom hurt. But she was right, I had 
been tied then handcuffed for longer now than I had ever been before.

“You will never be free. You will be handcuffed or tied or chained or strapped every second
of the rest of your life. It is the way of a slavegirl.”

She took the riding crop from her belt. “You will be punished. Everyday you will be 
punished, sometimes by the whip, other times by other punishments.” She reached down and 
swacked the end of the riding crop against the back of my right thigh. It seemed like only a 
flick of her wrist, but it hurt and I jerked. “And there are other ways to hurt a girl.

How does your jaw feel?”

I felt like crying. This was not what I wanted.

“And, in case you think that you’re going to be rescued by your servants or the police, I’m 
taking care of that. Right now they think that you’re just away for a day or so. Eventually, 
they’ll be told that you’ve decided to move to Europe but want to keep the house. And after 
that, they’ll be told that you’re selling the house here and they’re all fired. I’ve done this before
and know just how to do it. No police coming to your rescue. In fact, no one knows were you 
are.”

She doubled her legs and rested her hands on her knees, then put her chin on her hands.

“I usually don’t get my slavegirls from the upper class, but it shouldn’t be too much 
problem. I’m only doing it now because Marvin has been a fool and fallen in love with you.

But it’s obvious that you don’t care about him. I don’t blame you, he’s a wimp if there ever 
was one. But he’s my son, and if he wants a certain girl, then I’ll get her for him. I will admit, he
has good taste in female flesh. You’re quite a looker. And that body is very fine….”

I didn’t like the way she licked her lips as she said that.

She unlocked all three pairs of handcuffs from my ankles, then, as she stood there with 
hands on her hips and that riding crop clutched in her hand, I had to struggle to get to my 
feet with no help from arms locked behind me. As I stood there, almost shivering in fear of 
what this woman had planned for me, she reached over and unbuckled the strap holding in 
that ball gag. She had to force it out from where it had wedged between my teeth. When it 
popped out, a shot of pain lanced into my jaws, but it quickly faded. My jaw did some funny 
clicking and felt as if it didn’t want to close. Having it forced open for as long as I had isn’t 
conducive to smooth functioning, nor comfort. I don’t think that I could have talked right 
then, and didn’t try. She led me from the cell by tapping me with the riding crop and pointing 
the direction she wanted me to go with it.

This was just too crazy. I mean, I was a little wild in some of the games I liked to play, and 
more than a little erotic. But this woman was proposing something that was far beyond 
anything I had come up with. And the terrible part was that I felt she was serious. Slavery to 
her was a reality. She believed what she had been telling me. And she wanted to make me a 
permanent slavegirl, her possession totally. And her son’s. I wasn’t sure just how Marvin fit in. 
She was going to train me for him? That would be just like the wimp, having his mother train 
his girlfriend.

But I wasn’t scheduled to be his girlfriend, nothing like that at all. Already the two of them 
had caused me considerable pain and discomfort. That long drive hogtied in the trunk of a car
was no pleasant journey. We went down a passageway and turned into a room near the end. 
The room was very simple: four walls, no windows, a door, and a beam of wood passing across
it near the ceiling. My captor motioned for me to stand under that beam, then disappeared 
for a few seconds. She was back before I could begin to formulate a plan to dash for freedom. 
In her hand was a small chair which she placed before me.

“Stand on it,” she ordered.

I did. I fear I was a little too scared to do otherwise. As I stood up there, not too far off the 
floor, she unlocked the handcuffs from my elbows. I felt a great relief at the removal of the 
metal edges that had been cutting into the flesh of my arm. For a few seconds nothing 
happened, and I looked over my shoulder to see what was going on. She was coming in with a
second chair in tow. After placing it next to mine, she mounted it herself and unlocked one 
cuff of the handcuffs on my wrists. She brought my hands around in front of me but allowed 
me no time to message chaffed wrists or react in any way. Up my hands went until the wrists 
were over that narrow wooden beam. Then she locked the cuff around the free wrist, securing 
my hands over the beam.

It was only as she was getting down that I began to realize what a terrible form of 
restriction this might become. All she had to do was remove the chair I was standing on and I 
would be hanging by my wrists from the beam. I glanced up at the wood and found that it 
was a little narrower than the distance between my wrists. If I were to hang, the cuffs would 
come right down and rest on the top of the wood with my wrists right up against it. I shivered.
That would not be comfortable.

“You do realize that if I were to pull away that chair, you would be hanging by your wrists?”
she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes, what?” Her tone was harsh. Had I just made a mistake?

Of course, it dawned on me, I hadn’t used the proper title for her. “Yes, Mistress,” I quickly 
put in.

“Good, you learn fast. Now, before I kick that chair out from under you, I have a few 
questions to ask.”

She put her foot on the chair’s seat and I swallowed hard. “Why did you tease my son?”

I swallowed again. This was not going to be easy. “I … I didn’t tease him….” I stammered.

The chair move an inch to the side. “Now, my dear, let’s not lie. You had Marvin tie you up 
on many occasions. And often you were naked. Does that not sound like something that 
would tease a man?”

“Marvin … Marvin was simply helping me,” I managed weakly.

“So you were just using him?” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. I held my tongue. “And you 
had him buy a dildo for you, then tie you up with that dildo inside your pussy? And then he 
had to leave you alone while you obtained orgasms? Is that true?”

“Yes.” The chair move another inch. “Yes, Mistress,” I hurried out.

“You had a perfectly good man available, yet you preferred to use bondage and a dildo to 
obtain your sexual satisfaction. Why didn’t you simply ask Marvin to satisfy you?”

How should I have answered that one? I simply didn’t want Marvin to satisfy me. The dildo
was just a substitute for Gary’s wonderful tool inside me, but I couldn’t come right out and say
that.

“You chose, instead, to tease Marvin. You made him help you in your perverted sexual 
games, but denied him any satisfaction.”

“He liked helping me.” It sounded pretty weak even as I said it.

“He liked it.” It wasn’t hard to detect hatred in her voice, along with sarcasm. This woman 
felt that I had hurt her son.

Well, maybe I had. I mean, you just don’t worry about the feelings of a nerd like Marvin.

Even with all the money he had, Marvin had precious little in the way of friends. Most girls 
didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He was a loser, plain and simple. Of course, 
looking at it from his side, I guess I had been a little uncaring. But he honestly seemed to be 
happy with whatever he did for me.

She kicked the chair out and I fell an inch or so with a jerk. The metal cuffs dug into my 
wrists as all my weight came to rest on them. It was painful. I quickly learned that the first 
reaction of kicking your legs is the worst thing you can do. The jerking of my arms did no 
good for my poor wrists.

“You will be trained. I have trained slavegirls before.” She was into her lecture mode. “But 
for my own enjoyment. Still, it shouldn’t be too different training a girl to please a man.

There will come a time when you will beg Marvin to grant you sexual satisfaction. And if 
he’s any kind of a man, he’ll tell you to go to hell.”

Suddenly the riding crop lashed out and a burst of fire exploded on my bottom. Was this a
sore point with this woman? I wondered. As I willed my legs to not move, I realized that it was 
most likely that she was sore about her only son not being much of a man. I made a mental 
note not to ever bring up that subject.

Expecting another stroke, I tensed my bottom and closed my eyes. But nothing came. I 
looked over my shoulder and found myself alone. Was that to be my punishment? A singe 
swat then hanging all day by handcuffed wrists?

As I hung, trying carefully not to move, I thought about this woman. Then I remembered 
that I had once read something about her. Her name was Martha. Gosh, with a name like that, 
I’d be mean, too. I just couldn’t come to think of her as “Mistress”, so Martha became what I 
called her to myself.

Martha returned. Apparently I was not to merely hang there in quiet suffering. In her hand 
was a thin leather strap, perhaps an inch wide. I didn’t like the look of it.

“Do you know the most tender part of a girl for a whip?”

I didn’t answer.

“It’s between her legs, of course. Not only does a good stroke there generate a lot of pain, 
it is psychologically painful to a girl. I will demonstrate. Spread your legs wide.”

I clamped my legs together. Martha came close and hissed, “Spread your legs or I will get 
a thin whip and cut the skin of your ass and breasts to ribbons.”

Slowly my legs opened. It was easy to hold them spread a little apart but very wide was 
harder. Still I had no wish to have my flesh cut. I had no wish to let her demonstrate upon my 
sensitive pussy, either, but what could I do? I held my legs apart and closed my eyes.

“Open your eyes,” Martha commanded. “You should see the strap coming.” She grinned at 
my discomfort and swung her hand back, underhanded. The strap suddenly snapped forward.

I hadn’t been ready for it. Perhaps a girl can never be ready for the whipping of her sex.

There was pain. It shot upwards into my body. And I screamed. My legs clamped together 
as if to hold my tortured sex tightly. I think I also bent my legs up. I know I wanted to shrink 
into a ball.

I’ll have to admit, that first stroke against my sex, delivered by a strong hand with hatred 
behind it, was the worst thing I had ever felt in my life. None of the strokes Gary had delivered
on my bottom came close. Maybe it is a psychological thing, or maybe it is because there are 
so many nerve endings there. Whatever, I was shocked and hurt and wanted to die.

Well, maybe not really to die. It just felt that way. “That’s the first one,” she said with deadly
calmness. I gasped. “No, please! No! I’ll die!”

“You will not die. That would be too easy. You will suffer. Now spread your legs.”

“I can’t.”

“You will. I can easily tie your legs apart. Of course, then I would have to whip you twice as 
many times….”

With a whine, my legs slowly opened. It was terrible, it was horrible. I hung there by painful
wrists and trembled as my legs formed an inverted “V”.

Her hand was fast. The strap struck again and pain exploded within me. I think I screamed, 
perhaps louder than before.

“That’s two,” she said when I stopped screaming. “No! NO! Don’t hurt me. Why are you 
doing this to me?”

Martha paused. “Because I like to,” came her simply, honest reply. “And to teach you that I 
can cause you more pain than you could ever imagine. But mostly because I like to.”

I sobbed and did wish to die.

“It is a good lesson for you. When I am finished with you, you will have some idea of how 
much pain I can inflict upon you. That knowledge will be a constant reminder of the power I 
hold over you. It may even make you want to be a good slavegirl.”

Sarcastic or not, her words were true. Any woman would do anything to avoid that kind of 
pain.

The strap ascended again and I screamed again. When the red haze cleared from my eyes, 
I meekly asked, “How many?”

Martha laughed. She was, indeed, enjoying herself. “As many as I want to give to you,”

she chortled. “Maybe even more.”

She was having a great time at my expense. A forth time the strap ascended in a sweep 
from near the floor up between my legs. This time I went crazy. It was instinct, I could not 
control myself. I kicked out and jerked around like someone possessed of demons. It was 
illogical, it was stupid, and it was painful. But my body just rebelled.

When I calmed down, Martha walked up next to me and smiled. “Feel better?” she purred.

“Now we can get on with it. Spread your legs.”

I don’t know how I did it. It was sort of like my legs spread their own accord. I certainly 
didn’t want to do it, but my mind was going numb. Maybe a defensive reaction, who knows. 
But my legs came apart. Martha made me hold that position, savoring my agony, for a long 
time before the strap swung up and I screamed again.

I think I passed out. A girl can only take so much. When I came to, I was alone in that bare 
room but still hanging by handcuffed wrists from the beam. I looked up and could see dried 
dark stains below my wrists where struggles had forced the metal to cut my skin. I must have 
hung there for a while, my hands were numb. I wish I could have said the same for my pussy. 
There was a terrible ache in my sex. And each tiny movement of my legs or hips sent pain like 
electric shocks dancing into my body. I hung and suffered.

I would love to say that I formulated escape plans and plotted massive and exquisite 
revenge while hanging there. But the truth is I could only think of how much I wanted to stop 
this from every happening again. Later, when the pain was not so fresh in my mind, anger 
would set in, but at that moment I would have done anything to keep from being beaten on 
my pussy again.

Later, probably sometime in the afternoon, Marvin came to see me. I became aware of a 
presence and looked up from my bowed head to find him standing there. I could not read the
expression on his face. Perhaps it was mixed surprise and delight, perhaps something else. 
One tended to not to really try to figure out Marvin, it simply wasn’t important enough.

Now it might be important to my future, but I couldn’t read him.

“I hurt,” I finally came out with. It was a simple statement and all I could think to say.

Perhaps it would evoke some pity from a man who used to jump to obey my every wish.

“Mommy says that is the purpose. Did she really whip you between the legs?” He sounded 
like a schoolboy with a new toy.

“Yes. She hit me with a leather strap. It hurt so much that I can’t tell you.”

He took a step closer. His faced came to just below my breasts. He could have reached and
touched me had he wanted to. I got the feeling that he did want to but was afraid to.

“Go ahead, touch me. If you touch between my legs, I’ll probably whine or cry or 
something. It still aches terrible there.”

Marvin did not touch me between the legs or anywhere else. Instead he backed up a step.

“Mommy says that I shouldn’t touch you until she’s got you trained. She says that you’ll be
very obedient when you’re trained. She says you’ll do everything you can to please me.

She says you’ll even beg me to whip you. Anything.”

I did not disagree with his mother. At that point I wasn’t too sure that she wasn’t one 
hundred percent right. This kind of pain can wear any girl down.

“When will I be let down?” I asked. I wanted to keep him talking. Having someone to talk 
to was better than hanging alone with only your pain for company.

“I don’t know. Probably dinner time. I’ve seen Mommy hang a girl like this for a day and a 
night.”

That got my attention. Not only the possibility that I might hang all night, but a 
confirmation that Martha had actually “trained” other slavegirls. “Your mother has trained 
other girls?” I asked.

“Oh, sure. Many. For as long as I can remember, Mommy has had one or two girls down 
her in the dungeon. That’s what she calls the basement .here, the Dungeon. She even has one 
other girl here right now. Brenda is her name. Cute little blonde. She’s pretty much trained 
now and Mommy will probably get tired of her pretty soon.”

I hated myself for what I had to ask next. “What does your mother do with the girls when 
she gets tried of them?”

“Oh, she sells some of them to friends. Or to Abdul. He takes them to Arabia or someplace
and puts them in harems. Or brothels. I gather that it’s much worse to be in a brothel than a 
harem.”

I didn’t know what to say next. This man was telling me that his mother sold girls into 
slavery. That just shouldn’t happen in this day and age.

“I’ve got to go. Mommy doesn’t know I’m down here.”

“Wait! Marvin, please stay and talk to me.”

“Can’t. Mommy would punish if she caught me here.”

“She would punish you for talking to me?”

“No, she’d punish you.”

Then he was gone. It was crazy and I would have taken it all for a bad dream had it not 
been for the ache in my wrists and pussy telling me it was all too real. As the hours wore on 
and I became more and more certain that my hands were suffering permanent damage, I 
considered what she had said about making me disappear. It was true that I didn’t have any 
immediate family, just some distant cousins or something. The servants, especially George, 
might wonder. But they were used to my taking off for long periods with little or no notice. It 
was possible that they would actually simply keep the house up, waiting for my return.

Was that to be my future, then? Broken in spirit, completely obedient to a wimp of a man, 
forever to be beaten and kept prisoner? Sure looked like it.

But wait! There was one hope. Gary! Then my spirits sank again. He didn’t know that I was 
kidnapped. And I had put that advertisement in the paper. When he came to the Milton place 
on Friday night and found me not there, he would think that I was playing games with him to 
get even for the whipping he had given my upside down bottom. He would probably write me
off as a rich bitch not worth wasting time on.

I wanted to cry.

CHAPTER EIGHT - A Present from a Mother to a Son

When I was let down, I couldn’t move my fingers or hands. My wrists looked terrible, all 
bruised up and rubbed raw in places. And the returning circulation was something horrible, it 
made me cry. But Martha, bless her little black heart, couldn’t care less. She gathered my 
hands together behind me and locked them with the same handcuffs that had supported me 
from the beam.

I was taken to a different room where I was given a bath and my hair shampooed. It was 
good to get clean after all I had gone through. It would have been better had Martha not 
been so rough with the washing. At times it seemed she was trying to rub the skin right off my
breasts.

Clean and still handcuffed, I was taken back to my cell and allowed a meal, my first in 
Martha’s dungeon. It was good food but having to eat with your hands locked behind you can
be frustrating. I had to knell and bend over to eat like a dog. Martha seemed pleased at my 
discomfort.

After dinner, she examined my wrists. With a grunt that I couldn’t interpret, she unlocked 
the cuffs and ordered me to sit on the floor. I was made to scoot forward and spread my legs 
wide until my feet were touching the bars. Then she locked the handcuffs on one ankle, 
attaching it to the bars. A second pair of handcuffs was still laying on the floor from that 
morning. She used it to lock my other ankle to another bar, leaving my legs wide spread and 
me unable to close them. She looked down at me and smiled satisfaction.

“Your hands are free,” she informed. “You may play with yourself. It will do you good to 
know that your pussy still works. You will want it in good working order so you can use it to 
please Marvin when the time comes.” I said nothing to that. Then she left me. A short while 
later the light went out and I knew I was to alone for the night.

In the darkness I had two choices. I could sit up or lay on my back. My hands were, indeed,
free, for the first time in what seemed like ages. I found that, by stretching, I could just reach 
an ankle with my fingers, not that it did my any good. The handcuffs were locked very snugly 
around my ankles.

I lay back, hoping that sleep would come soon to take me away from this place, at least for
a little while. But it didn’t. Instead I remembered the helplessness of hanging by my wrists for 
most of the day. I compared that with hanging upside down by my ankles. The ankles won 
hands down. After a bit I found my fingers moving towards my pussy. The flesh there was 
sore, but surprisingly not as painful as I expected. Perhaps a girl heals rapidly there. As I 
explored every part of my sex, looking for signs of damage and finding none, I became aware 
of a tingly warmth there. It wouldn’t take much, I realized, to arouse my sex. Just a touch here. 
And a touch there.

My first reaction was to jerk my hand away. After all, Martha had told me to play with 
myself. But then it occurred to me that I could well justify a little pleasure as being a defiant 
act against the authority of this place. I set to teasing my clit with fingertips, thinking of Gary 
and the wonderful things he had done to my helpless body. It wasn’t long before tiny moans 
of pleasure were filling my cell.

The orgasm was good. It provided me with some form of escape from that terrible place.

And it comforted me to know that my pussy did still function. I wanted it to be perfectly 
okay in hopes that one day Gary would again use it. Marvin could go to hell for all I cared.

I fell asleep thinking of Gary and the flickering candle light in a deserted house, and of 
tight ropes around my ankles as I hung there.

The next day the mother and son team didn’t mistreat me too badly. Perhaps they were 
allowing my wrists to heal after the way the poor things were chaffed and scraped by the 
sharp edges of the handcuffs. I was fed breakfast, and Martha watched with some secret 
amusement as I ate with my hands in a sitting position. I had to put the food on the floor 
between my wide spread legs, but I didn’t care. I was hungry and the food was good.

Afterwards, she took the plate and glass away and I was left alone for most of the 
morning.

Sometime around the middle of the day she came for me again. I was made to sit up and 
my elbows were tied together with thin cord behind me. That hurt but not too bad and I was 
thankful that she didn’t also bind my wrists. They were still rather sore. My ankles were 
unlocked and I was allowed to get to my feet. Then a rope was looped around my neck and 
used as a leash to lead me out of the cell and for my first real view of the place where I was 
being held captive.

It was a fairly large house, nothing fancy looking but definitely not your average family 
home. The bright sunlight made me blink for a bit but then I could make out that I was 
standing in a large enclosed area behind the house. There was a large swimming pool, some 
patio furniture, and a few trees to one side. Around the entire area was a large fence, 
white-washed and of at least eight feet in height. I saw no gate anywhere.

Martha tugged on my rope leash and I followed her over to the swimming pool. Being 
early afternoon, the sun was almost over head and quite hot. The air was dry, much more so 
than back at home where the sea moistened the land. This felt more like desert. It was funny 
to walk with my arms sticking out to the sides. My elbows had been tied together and 
touching, but the hands left unbound. That position made my arms stick out to the sides and 
slightly toward my front. I felt awkward walking with my arms that way.

Marvin was waiting at the pool in a pair of trunks. He seemed delighted to see me coming 
but said nothing when we arrived. I noticed that whenever his mother was around, Marvin 
hardly said a word unless she told him to. I was stopped next to the edge of the pool and 
could see the sparkling blue water all the way down to the bottom, which seemed quite a way.
It was a large pool and the deep side was probably eight or nine feet deep. A tiny voice at the 
back of my mind was trying to tell me that I should be afraid of that pool. I told it to shut up, I 
was afraid enough already.

“Shall we play a nice game of dunk the girlie?” as Martha sweetly of Marvin.

Marvin seem doubtful. “That’s better when you can hogtie the girl,” he responded. And 
that would make her wrists hurt.”

“Dunk the girlie” with a hogtie? I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Well, then there’s the desert. We could tie her to the jeep and drag her over the sand 
dunes by her ankles.” Martha was smiling sweetly as if these weren’t horrible tortures but 
casual lawn games.

“Does rub the skin rather raw,” Marvin said with a frown. He was looking at my breasts and
imagining them all scraped raw and bleeding from his mother’s suggested game. So was I. “I 
was thinking perhaps just put in the stocks for the day.”

“Unimaginative,” she replied with a wrinkle of her nose. “But she would probably be glad 
to get out of the cell and into the sun for a while. Okay, you put her in the stocks.” With that 
grand pronouncement, his mother walked away.

I looked at Marvin. He actually seemed to gain an inch or so in height when she left. He 
took my leash and led me away from the pool, towards the trees. Behind them was an area of 
bare earth save for three devices obviously meant for the torment of slavegirls.

The first was a post, not unlike the one I had put in my garden, four inches thick and six 
feet tall of polish wood. The second was a pillory of oak, along the classic lines. There was a 
platform on which the victim stood, a post coming up, and a cross piece formed of two 
boards with half circles cut in them. The top piece was hinged and swung up or could be 
locked solidly against the bottom half. The yoke portion was at a height that would force a girl
to bend her head as she stood there.

The third device was the one Marvin led me towards. It was much like the pillory but the 
yoke had only two holes in it and was much closer to the ground. Behind it a couple feet was 
a simple board turned on edge and braced so it was solid.

“If you would be so kind as to sit on that edge,” Marvin asked as he lifted the top half of 
the yoke.

I looked at the edge of wood doubtfully. “Isn’t it awfully thin?” I asked.

“About an inch thick,” he affirmed. “Please sit down.”

I sat down, a bit awkwardly without hands to help. Without being told to, I placed my 
ankles in the half circles of wood. The seat portion was just far enough behind the yoke so 
that my legs were straight out before me. Marvin closed the yoke and clicked shut the huge 
padlock attached to the hasp.

I squirmed a bit, trying to get comfortable, but quickly found that there was no placement 
of my bottom that didn’t hurt. My bottom was still sore from past mistreatment, and my pussy
ached from the strapping between the legs Martha had given me.

Marvin disappeared and I figured it was time to get settled down for a long afternoon, but
he returned a few minutes later. In his hands was a pair of handcuffs but with a chain between
the cuffs of at least foot and a half. They looked more like leg irons than handcuffs. He locked 
one cuff on my right wrist, then pulled my left hand in towards my stomach. The other cuff 
locked on and my hands were held in place in front of my tummy.

The cuffs were snug around the wrists and the chain short enough so that my hands had 
very little movement allowed them. The fact that my elbows were bound behind me made the 
locking of my wrists in front of me into a snug and secure bondage.

“That will keep you from reaching down and taking some of your weight on your hands.”

Although I guessed my restraints were finished for the time being, Marvin seemed 
reluctant to leave.

“Marvin, why is your mother doing this to me?” I asked.

“She told you. It wasn’t very fair the way you treated me.

I didn’t want to get into an argument about that. I had been more than unfair with Marvin,
even if he was the kind meant to be used by pretty girls. “She can’t get away with this,” I 
changed the subject. “You simply can’t kidnap girls and get away with it. The police….”

“The police can do nothing,” he interrupted me. “They don’t even know that you are 
missing. And won’t. Darlene, please believe me, Mommy can kidnap girls and keep them 
prisoner as long as she wishes. She has been doing it since I was five and Daddy died.

You’re not the first girl to sit in those stocks, you know.”

I didn’t know. But he seemed to be sincere. I tried another change of tack, “But what about
you? I thought you were my friend. I thought you cared about me.”

“I do!” His tone was hurt. After a few seconds of switching his glance between the ground 
and my breasts, he continued, “Do you really think I would have had a chance to marry you? I 
was just an errand boy. I did as you ordered, same as your butler.”

What could I say? He was right. I would never have considered marrying him or even 
getting serious about him. He was just a nerd that I found useful to let hang around.

“So your mother kidnaps me and trains me to be a slavegirl for you. What kind of 
relationship is that?”

“One that works. And I guess the only one that I can have with you.”

“Marvin … I….” He lifted an eyebrow. “What choice do I have? I couldn’t go on loving you 
and wanting your body. Do you know what it was like to have to tie your lovely body with 
ropes and then not be able to touch you? Do you know what it does to a man to find that you
prefer a rubber dildo to his lovemaking? I couldn’t go on that way.”

“Marvin, you never said a thing. I thought you were happy helping me with my little 
games.”

“If I had said that I wanted to screw you while you were tied down, would you have told 
me to go ahead?”

I swallowed hard. I wanted to say yes, sure I would have, but it isn’t easy for me to lie.

Fact is I would have laughed in his face and he knew that. End of argument.

“When I told Mommy about the way you loved to be tied up and all, she said that you are 
a natural-born slavegirl.”

“You told your mother about my private games!” He continued as if I hadn’t interrupted.

“Then she took over everything. And it worked. Here you are. And someday soon you’ll be 
in love with me.”

In your dreams, I wanted to say but didn’t think it wise. “Marvin, you can’t make a girl love 
you,” I told him.

“Mommy can.” That simple statement made shivers run down my spine.

Marvin smiled at me and then walked away, having had the last word in this conversation.

I watched him until he disappeared around the trees towards the house. What kind of 
people were these? Could she really make me love this twerp of a son? Doubts nagged at me 
as I remembered that terrible whipping between my legs. Too much pain can change anyone, 
and she was in a position to deliver as much pain as it would take.

Talking about pain, have you ever sat on the edge of a board with you bare bottom for 
hours? That can be a real pain in the ass. After a while you feel like that edge is cutting all the 
way to your bones. Your bottom gets to aching. You get to squirming around. Your get to 
wishing you were someplace else. You start moaning and would plead to be let off that wood 
if there were someone around to plead with.

My wrists weren’t too pained, the strain not being too bad. But I couldn’t use my hands to 
ease my bottom off that hard wood, and I felt pretty helpless.

I did realize one thing as that afternoon worn on. Well, two things. One was that even 
simple devices could cause a girl a great deal of pain. Take that set of stocks. Simply a board 
cut in half with holes to hold her ankles, and another board set on edge for her to sit on. 
Nothing fancy, but it sure made for a very uncomfortable afternoon. If you don’t believe me, 
try it.

The second thing was that it was very hot wherever this house was. Someone had 
mentioned sand dunes, and I believed them. This must have been the desert.

Martha came for me that evening as the sun was setting over the white fence. She looped 
a rope around my neck again as a leash before unlocking my ankles from the stocks. I cannot 
begin to tell you what a relief it was to be off my bottom! She didn’t bother to unlock my 
wrists or untie my elbows, but than I expected nothing else from her. She had told me, and 
thus far demonstrated, that I would be in constant restraints.

Dinner was served in my cell. I had to kneel then bend over to eat, my hands still being 
locked in front and the elbows tied in back. After dinner I saw my first of the servants in that 
place. She was a dark-haired Mexican girl, slender and very young. But if I had any idea of 
escaping, I could forget them. It quickly became apparent that Ramona, as I found out her 
name to be, although being much smaller than I, could easily control me. No big secret, it was
just that I was always restrained. Ramona led me from the cell to another room nearby, a very 
small room without windows. A single light bulb over my head lit the whole room. She pushed
me in and closed the door behind me. I looked up to find myself staring at a shower head. 
Another stuck out of the wall next to that. A quick turn around revealed that I was standing in 
a tiny room with four shower heads and waterproof walls.

And a drain at the bottom.

Not unexpectedly, the next event was for the water to come streaming out of the shower 
heads, drenching me from all sides. I wouldn’t have minded a shower, but the water used at 
that place was cold, not hot, not warm. There was no place I could flee to, I had to stand there 
and endure. It was not pleasant.

A long time later, the water ceased and Ramona came to take me to the room next door 
where I was set down on a chair in front of a vanity and my hair was dried and combed until I 
was almost back to my former good looks. In presentable condition once again, I was taken 
back to my cell.

I expected to be left there for the night, hoping only that I would not have to endure the 
handcuffs and ropes holding my arms for the entire night. And things looked a little better as 
Ramona removed the handcuffs with the long chain. But they looked even worse when she 
gathered my wrists together behind my back and bound them there. In a minute I was worse 
off than I had been all day, my arms bound with elbows together and not feeling too good. 
Then she left me alone, locking the door carefully behind her.

I sighed deeply. I would survive, having to spend a night with arms bound behind her 
doesn’t usually kill a girl. But it was not going to be a pleasant night.

But later Ramona returned. I was surprised when she opened the cell door and told me to 
stand. The rope went back around my neck and I was led off to an unknown fate.

Martha was waiting for me. It was upstairs in a bedroom fitted out like a torture chamber.

There was a bed, that’s how I knew it was a bedroom, but there was also a pillory, a small 
iron-barred cage, and a table filled with ropes, handcuffs and other restraints. There were also 
rings around the wall, set at different heights. Ramona led me to wall and tied my rope leash 
to one of the rings with very little slack. Then she left.

“You’re looking pretty,” said Martha. “I can see why Marvin likes you.” She spent a bit of 
time looking over my nudity, and I squirmed under her gaze. She came over to my wall and 
grabbed one breast to squeeze it. Her fingernails dug in as she did and I squealed at the pain.

“I think that I’d like to play with that body a bit,” she commented. “It’s quite nice. But 
tonight I promised my son that he would have some fun.”

She returned to the table and picked up a device I had never seen before. It was a ring, 
looked like leather but I quickly found out was a metal ring covered with leather, with a strap 
attached to each side, and a buckle at the end of one. One hand grabbed my jaw and forced 
open my mouth. The other shoved that ring in until it was wedged behind my teeth and 
forcing my jaw to stay open. The strap was buckled on with cruel tightness. I tried to get the 
thing out of my mouth but found that it was quite solidly in place. It didn’t take too long to 
realize that my mouth was being held open by this device and I simply couldn’t close it. I’m 
admit a little puzzlement at the time as to the purpose of this strange kind of gag.

Martha checked over the ropes holding my arms behind me and apparently found the 
bondage secure enough because she changed nothing. The bed became my destination.

She made me to lay on my back on the bed, which meant I was also laying on my bound 
arms, not the most comfortable of positions. She looped one ankle with a rope and jerked 
that leg towards one corner of the bed.

Perhaps I should explain that this was not your normal bed. This one was built with 
securing a girl in mind. There were four solid posts at each corner. The posts were connected 
across the top by a rectangle of wooden beams, with an extra one across the middle of the 
bed. All the posts and beams looked very solid and I was sure that they would have taken my 
weight had someone wished to hang me from them. I lay on red silk sheets over the mattress. 
There were no blankets. I guessed that this bed wasn’t really meant for sleeping in.

That night I was not hung from the bed, only tied on my back with legs spread wide. My 
bound wrists under my bottom acted to lift my hips upward, and the bound elbows made my 
breasts stick up more than would have been natural. Martha then fixed a leather collar around
my neck. The collar had small rings on each side, as well as the front and back, and it was to 
the side rings that she tied ropes going to and over the edge of the bed.

They were tied somewhere below. She then lifted my head and slipped another rope 
through the ring at the back of my neck. That one was passed up and over the top of the bed.
Those three ropes, along with my legs being bound to the bottom of the bed, held me down 
pretty well. I could lift my head a bit but my neck didn’t want to go anywhere.

Martha sat on the side of the bed and teased my left nipple with a fingernail. She had 
plans for my body and I didn’t like that idea one bit. But those plans were not to be 
implemented that night. She teased my pussy a bit, noting in crude terms that it was already 
warm and juicy. Then she left me.

I, of course, tried to free myself from the bed, but the ropes defeated me just as I knew 
they would. I was going to have to wait until Momma’s boy showed up to claim his ‘ prize.

How very strange, I remember thinking, that a mother should go to the extremes of 
binding a naked girl, gagging her, and making her easily available for sex, all for her son. I 
knew that some mothers arranged for dates for their sons, but this was something different. 
And mommy dearest had her own plans for me, I was sure.

Marvin came in a short time later. He was wearing a purple silk dressing gown but looked 
uncomfortable. His eyes widened when he saw the gag she had put in my mouth. My nudity 
he had seen many times, so that wasn’t new for him. But he leaned over and ran a finger 
lightly around the inside of the gag’s ring. It was then that I realized how much that gag made
my mouth available for a man to insert his penis. I could see how it was perfect for that. My 
mouth was wide open, my teeth held apart by the solid ring, my soft mouth inviting. Even if a 
girl was totally unwilling to perform oral sex on a man, this gag would make it possible for him
to rape her in the mouth. And there was nothing I could do about it! I couldn’t close my 
mouth, I couldn’t even try to bite him. It was perfect for its task.

I sighed. At least I was not a virgin in that way. If he stuck his tool in my mouth, I wouldn’t 
die. Wouldn’t be nearly as nice as if it were Gary doing it, but I’d try to make him enjoy it.

No use getting any of these people pissed off at me.

Marvin touched my breast carefully. He had touched them before when he was tying me, it
was natural that his arm should brush against my breast, or even his hand. But this was the 
first time he touched them in a sexual way. He cupped my left one and just stared at it as if he 
had never seen such things before. For a while he contented himself to flicking the nipple with
his finger. It was aroused and hard, probably from the way I was bound and the thought that I
was about to be raped. But then, I always got aroused when I was tied up, nothing new there.

Finally he got up and took off the robe. Underneath he was naked, his penis at half staff.

He seemed uncertain what to do as he sat on the bed next to me.

The ring gag seemed to fascinate him. I guess it would for any man. I mean, the idea that a
girl’s soft, warm mouth was wide open in invitation would turn on most any man. I’ll have to 
admit that I was a bit excited at the idea, myself. I mean, I’ve always like being tied up because
it makes me feel helpless and vulnerable. And this gag certainly added to that feeling. Not 
only was my pussy wide open and available, now my mouth was, too. That’s got to make any 
girl feel vulnerable.

The inevitable happened. Marvin got to his knees on the bed, positioned his penis over my
mouth, and allowed the now rigid rod to enter. I felt it slide in with a mixture of disgust and 
excitement. This would have been a wild thing if it were a man I loved raping me in the mouth,
say Gary, for example. But even with a man I didn’t love, it was still an intense feeling for a 
woman to have this done to her. I told myself that I ought to go ahead and get it over with as 
fast as possible, so I began running my tongue around the underside of his penis, and sucking
gently. I quickly found that being unable to close your lips makes it hard to suck, too much air
comes in. So I settled down to licking what I could with my tongue, and allowing his rod to 
slide in and out until it was happy.

But his penis’ happiness was just not to be. After a minute he withdrew. I looked up to see 
a pained expression on his face.

“I have always wanted to do this to you, Darlene, dear,” he said emotionally. “But not like 
this.”

And people say women are crazy about sex? What else could a man want? Here was a 
beautiful young woman, all bed down, her vagina and mouth easily available, and he didn’t 
want to use either!

“Doooh whirlll rie,” I said. It was suppose to be “don’t worry” but not being able to move 
my jaw affected my speech something terrible. “Guuuu ah heeedd.”

He frowned but made no move. This was frustrating, in more than one way. I mean, when 
a girl’s all hot and bothered and expecting to be raped, it’s a let down when she isn’t. And not 
being able to form intelligible words is frustrating, too. “Maaarrr ennn. Yewhhh iddy hit!”

Actually I hadn’t realized just how horny I had become. A woman’s body can certainly 
betray her. A minute before I was disgusted at the idea of this man forcing his attentions upon
me, now I was angry with him for failing to do so. “Sssque heeee. Sssque yewhhhh!”

I wasn’t sure that he understood. Screw me is a simple phrase, you’d think that it would 
get across. He was standing up and reaching for his robe. I had to do something.

“Vimmmph!” He turned back to me. “Yawhhh ah vimmmph!” I told him. Try saying “wimp”

with your mouth held wide open and unmoving. It’s not easy.

But the message came across, perhaps via the expression on my face as much as the 
misshapen words. It probably helped that I thrust my breasts up at him and wiggled my hips. 
How much invitation does a man require?

“Ssstuu hid vimmmph!” (Translation: Stupid Wimp!) His hand slowly pulled back from the 
robe. “Shash whooll!” (Translation: asshole!) He frowned. Maybe he didn’t get that one. I 
repeated it. He frowned more.

This was not working. It was time for some drastic measures. I sucked in air and delivered a
verbal broadside. “Moo miese ooy!” (Translation: Mommy’s boy!)

The slap was sudden and unexpected. It also made my left breast sting.

“You keep my Mother out of this,” he said with some heat. “She’s a good mother.”

He might not have been aware of it, but his tool was returning to an acceptable state of 
arousal after the limpness of his withdrawal. “Your mother wears army boots” would have 
been nice but too hard to say. Besides she might well have a nice collection of boots.

Instead I uttered my last words of that night, “Shhh heeee!” Which, in case you haven’t 
figured out this system yet, was “Sissy!”

Marvin, the enraged, climbed up on the bed, knelt between my legs and began slapping 
my breasts. He did it hard but with an open hand so the blows stung more that hurt seriously. 
A dozen slaps across both breasts seemed to feed his anger instead of dispersing it. Suddenly 
his hands were on my hips and he was shoving a respectably sized penis into my sheath. 
Which, fortunately, was lubricated enough so that the hard shove felt good rather than 
painful, which it would have had I not been juicy down there.

There followed a good screwing of a tied down girl. Not up to the standard of Gary 
Norton, but I doubted that many men could meet his high state of excellence. But more than I
expected from a man I had thought of as a wimp. Like the shameless hussy I am, I thrust my 
hips up to meet him and generally acted like a girl having a great time. I made some pretty 
funny sounds out that ring gag, and think I was sticking my tongue out as my orgasm 
approached.

I tried to hold off but couldn’t. His use of his weapon wasn’t skillful but enthusiastic and 
the desired results came. I was soaring along on the sexual high while Marvin was still 
pumping away. Eventually he hit his own climax, shoving his hips hard against mine and crying
out a strangled, “Arrrrggghhhhh!”

And I thought I was making funny noises. Eventually he got off me, which was appreciated 
since my arms were tightly bound and under me. It would not have surprised me if he were to 
simply leave and mommy dearest return later to untie me. But Marvin surprised me. He leaned
over and kissed me gently on the forehead. “Thank you,” he said as he did.

I had the strangest feeling that he was thanking me for making him mad enough to have 
sex with me. It made him a little more human to know that he could give a girl a fair screwing, 
but then it should not have taken much prompting when you put a man next to a naked, tied 
down, legs spread wide open, mouth held open girl.

It wasn’t mommy dearest who came to untie me, it was the servant girl, Ramona. She 
untied me from the bed, making no comment about the obvious mess, nor about my strange 
gag. She led me to the cell where I was locked in. I tried making noises to tell her that she had 
forgotten to take out the ring gag, but she only weakly smiled and told me that she had 
orders not to remove it. Madam Mean’s orders, no doubt. It would not be a very pleasant 
night if I had to wear that thing until morning. My jaw already hurt some from being forced so
wide open, and I feared that my mouth would get rather dry before dawn’s early light.

I settled down in the corner of my cell, tried to make myself comfortable with arms still 
bound behind me-an impossible task if ever there was one. For a while I closed my eyes and 
thought of my being all tied up and wearing that ring gag for Gary. The thought of his 
wonderful rod pumping away in my mouth while I was helpless to prevent it sent shivers down
my spine. I could even feel my loins warming up, as if that area hadn’t just had an orgasm, at 
the mere thought of Gary’s hands on my body. When I got out of this place, I was going to 
have to tell him about that ring gag. It was a wonderful way to make a girl feel very helpless.

In the middle of the night I woke at the sound of my cell door being opened. In the dark 
all I could see was a dark shape standing over me. Then I heard the zip of a man’s zipper and 
suspected my midnight visitor was none other than Marvin, come back to take advantage of 
my available mouth.

I fear that he found my mouth a bit on the dry side, but he used it anyway. If you’ve never 
tried holding your mouth open for a few hours, try it. You’ll find out that the inside dries out, 
even your tongue.

Marvin had no trouble keeping his rod at attention this time, and before long he finished 
off by driving his shaft deep into my mouth until I almost gagged, and then spurting his hot 
cum into me. I had to swallow, there was no way I could avoid it. Mostly I was trying to keep 
from gagging.

He wiped his penis clean on my hair, and was turning to leave when I made some pitiful 
and plaintive noises, the purpose of which was to beg him to take that gag out of my mouth. 
Untying my arms would also be nice, but I didn’t figure I could count on too many favors, 
even if I had pleased Marvin.

“Sorry, Darlene, Mommy says that you have to stay the way you are.” Then he was gone.

I sighed and lowered myself to my side. It wasn’t any more comfortable laying there, but it 
was different from being propped up in the corner. I sighed again and hoped that sleep would
return pretty fast. My jaw and arms were aching enough to keep most girls wide awake.

A figure dressed in dark clothing crept into the old Milton house just as the final faint 
orange rays of the setting sun were fading from western sky. He pulled a backpack from his 
shoulders and shone a flashlight around the room. The flashlight had a thick piece of paper 
covering the lens, save for a slit that allowed only a small portion of the light to escape. He 
noted the burnt candle on the bar, and the marks in the dust where two people had moved 
around. Then he searched the grounds, ending up at N the top of the trail to the beach.

For a long time he sat there, watching the beach, the trail and the dim illumination of the 
waves as they dashed themselves upon the sands. Finally he rose with a sigh and returned to 
the lounge where he retrieved his pack and departed into the shadows.

CHAPTER NINE - In the Bed of My Owner

Mistress Martha, the one who seemed to own me more than Marvin, finally made good on
her promise and took me to her bedroom two nights later. I had suffered through some minor
torments, but nothing that would mark up my skin or put too great a strain on me.

Things like that stupid stocks in the yard where I had to sit on the edge of a board all day 
while my bottom grew increasingly sore and I grew bored as hell.

Maybe most people don’t realize it, but for a slavegirl, the boredom can be as bad as the 
pain. Have you ever had to sit immobile for an entire day, your hands bound behind you and 
your ankles locked in wood, with nothing-I mean ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!-to do?

I found myself making up fantasies about what I would do to Martha when I got free. Most
of them involved removing every inch of her skin a tiny bit at a time. I figured I could stretch 
the job out over at least three days, maybe four. And then there were the branding irons, and 
the thumbscrews, and … Well, you get the idea. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have the 
backbone to do most of those things, but they helped pass the time.

Well, as I started to say, Martha finally took me to her bedroom, something I had expected
days before. Her preparing me for, and delivering me to, Marvin was not repeated, and I could
only wonder if it were because he didn’t want to see me again, or if it was his mother’s doing. 
She ran the whole show, as far as I could see. The servants, both of them that I had met, were 
scared to death of her. Of course, Marvin did a good imitation of a real mother’s boy, 
spineless and unable to oppose her in any way. Just the kind of man I could love and respect.

Not! Ramona prepared me by giving me a bath-rather enjoyable, actually-then fixing my 
hair, a task she was rather good at. Then she bound my arms behind my back so tightly that I 
would have thought it was a man jerking on the ropes. My elbows were crushed together and 
the wrists pretty tight, also. Then she put on my feet a pair of high heel shoes the likes of 
which I had never seen. First off the heels must have been five and a half inches tall, very tall 
for an average sized woman to try and walk in. I had high heels at home, I liked the way they 
made my legs look, but the tallest of those was four inches.

These were impossibly tall. When standing in them, I was balanced mainly on my toes and 
my foot arched painfully. But that was not all, there was an ankle strap on each, and that had a
tiny padlock on the buckle. Had I my hands to work with, I still couldn’t have taken those 
shoes off. Unless I could physically break the strap, which I doubted. As I walked down the 
hallway, wobbling with each step, I could feel the small locks banging against my ankles.

Wearing only the ropes and shoes, I was led to the bedroom of my owner. It was a large 
room, done out in shades of white and lavender; rather tacky, I thought. There was plenty of 
lace and soft fabrics, all in all a very feminine room. A couple rings attached to the wall at the 
height of my neck did sort of spoil the effect, but Martha was practical after all. The bed was 
quite large and covered with lavender satin.

I was left alone, my owner not being around. Thoughts of escape leapt into my mind, only 
to be dashed when I found myself unable to open the windows. I also failed to find any kind 
of sharp instrument with which to cut my bonds. I was about to open the drawers of the 
dresser when Martha came in.

She was dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, no bra, her favorite outfit. I was 
relieved to see no riding crop or whip in her hands. But I wasn’t too happy with the glow in 
her eyes. I was reminded of a cat with one paw holding down a mouse. And terrible aware of 
my arms being useless behind me. She walked up to me and took my head in both hands 
then kissed me. It was a full, hard kiss on the lips, more like a man would give than a woman.

Now perhaps I should regress a bit to inform you that I am not unused to the arts of 
lesbian lovemaking. I experimented some and found that it all depended on the other woman.
Some girls I found myself quite attracted to and some repulsed me. Sort of like with men, I 
guess. But I’ve made love with other women before. And enjoyed it. But I didn’t think this was 
going to be one of those times. How could I enjoy something at the hands of this 
madwoman?

The kiss ended when she tossed me on the bed. Suddenly she was on me, pinning me 
body down with hers and fondling my breasts with hands like claws. He kneaded them, 
pinched the nipples, and in general treated them rather roughly. All the time her hips were 
grinding into mine. Her legs straddled one of mine and she was pressing my thigh hard 
against her pussy. After a while she rose to her knees, my leg still prisoner between hers.

Then she slapped my breasts so hard that it brought tears to my eyes.

Several more quick slaps and she climbed off the bed. “Now that I’m got your attention,”

she said, “lift your legs up high. In a wide Vee.”

I obeyed. Already I had received enough pain from this woman to know she was serious. I 
had no wish to anger her and taste of her wrath. I lifted both legs and spread them wide. It 
was obscene and shaming the way it opened up my sex, but I knew if I refused, she would 
simply tie my legs spread and punishment me for disobedience.

While I lay there on my bound arms, legs up and wide, she undressed. It was not a 
strip-tease, it was simply the quickest way of getting her clothes off. Then she went to the 
dresser and came back with something that opened my eyes. It was a rubber or plastic dildo, 
much like the one I had Marvin purchase for me. But this one had straps attached to it. At first 
I was confused. Was the straps to hold the dildo inside me once she inserted it?

No. The straps, I soon found out, were to hold the replica of the male penis onto her. Then
she mounted the bed again, crawled up between my legs and placed the head of that rather 
oversized dildo against the opening of my sex.

Her hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed hard. “Keep your legs up and spread,” she 
hissed. “I like them that way. Drop them and you’ll be sorry.”

Then she shoved hard. I squealed because it hurt. There followed a long, hard screwing of 
my sex by that artificial penis, used not too much with skill as with enthusiasm. Her thrusts 
were hard and deep, and brought little pleasure to me.

It would have been nice to bring my feet down, plant those ridiculous high heels against 
her chest and push her off the bed. But I was intelligent enough to know that would be a most
unwise course of action. I endured and wondered if she were going to reach her own orgasm 
from what she was doing. She seemed to be trying hard to make me reach one.

Then it dawned on me. That was exactly what she was doing! She wanted to screw me 
until I orgasmed, just as a man would do. With an inner sigh, I began trying to get an orgasm.

It wasn’t easy. I was not turned on by what she was doing. Lesbian sex was not this way, at 
least not what I was used to. Finally, I had to close my eyes and pretend that it was Gary 
pumping away inside me. It helped to try and remember exactly what it had felt like when he 
had really done it to me. It worked. Finally I gasped, trembled all over and thrust hard up to 
meet her. Without thinking, I wrapped my legs around her hips and squeezed with them.

It was okay. I mean, not a great orgasm, but okay. On a scale of I to 10, perhaps a 5. But it 
satisfy Martha the Mean and she crawled off me.

While I lay there, enjoying the afterglow, she tied my ankles together with rope. I didn’t 
care much, feeling a bit mellow right then-even mediocre orgasms are pretty good-and wasn’t
even aware when the ran the rope up to the ring in the ceiling over her bed. My first 
awareness came when I felt my legs being lifted over my head and my hips following. In a few 
minutes I was hanging upside down with my head a few inches from the lavender satin covers.

I was feeling good. Hanging upside down reminded me of what Gary had done to me in 
that old house, and that was pleasant. The cut of the ropes into my ankles was almost a good 
feeling. The thought flashed through my mind that this was punishment for having lowered 
my legs. I didn’t mind. In a few hours I might mind a lot, but right then all was cool.

But it was not punishment Martha was suspending me for. It was her own pleasure. She 
crawled on the bed and positioned her legs around my head, then wiggling down until her sex
was only in inch from my mouth. It was obvious what she wanted. I looked up to find that she 
was serious. There was a riding crop in her hand. She pointed to her pussy in obvious 
command.

I went to work. It wasn’t too easy to lick her pussy while I was hanging there because I kept
swinging back and forth. Finally she got off the bed and returned with some string in her 
hands. She tied a loop of string around each of my nipples, then crawled back under me. Now 
when she pulled on the string, it pulled my breasts towards her and the rest of me followed. It 
was enough to steady me in position to lick her private parts, but it hurt. I attacked her clit 
and pussy with a will to get this over.

Perhaps Martha had perfected holding off on her orgasm just so she could make girls like 
me suffer more. Or maybe she simply didn’t cum very fast. Whatever the reason, it was a long 
time before she cried out, and wrapped her legs around my head. I’m sure that I could have 
reached two, maybe three, orgasms in that time.

As she squeezed my head between her thighs, I found my nose being shoved into her 
tunnel. It didn’t smell all that bad, and I could have enjoyed it had it been a woman I cared for.
I had stopped my licking when she went into spasm, but, just to be perverse, I placed my lips 
around her clit and sucked on it. That brought shudders from her body and a fresh cry from 
her lips. I heard it, so it must have been loud, considering that my ears were being squashed 
by her thighs.

Finally her legs released my head and I was able to get a breath. Even as much as I disliked
this woman, it gave me some kind of pleasure to see what I had done. With my little tongue, I 
had given to this woman a great deal of pleasure. That was one of the enjoyable parts of 
lesbian lovemaking, seeing the ecstasy you’ve been able to create. And knowing what it feels 
like because you’ve gone through it yourself. Poor men will never know what it’s like for a 
woman. They seem to enjoy their little orgasms, fools that they are. Theirs is over in a few 
seconds. A woman’s can last a very long time. And it’s much more intense than any man’s.

Martha left me hang there for the better part of an hour before lowering me to the bed. I 
spent the night laying on the floor at the foot of her bed, hogtied, rather uncomfortable, but 
grateful that I had not really been punished that night. The next day was something else.





CHAPTER TEN - Whipped Girl Flesh


I guess I shouldn’t have spoken at all. It was stupid. Make a note: never badmouth a momma’s
boy in front of momma.

All I said was that I have had better lovers than Marvin. That upset Martha something 
terrible. I don’t know why she assumed her little boy was the best lover in the world, unless … 
No, I won’t even think that. But she was upset.

I was sitting at the breakfast table, naked and chained up like a dangerous prisoner, and 
we were talking about my future. Well, Martha was talking about it, I was busy eating with 
hand joined by handcuffs in front of me. My ankles also bore handcuffs joining them, but that 
was pretty mild restraints. And then she asked me, point blank, how I had enjoyed her little 
boy’s performance in bed.

Without thinking I let slip that he was about average. I guess she could tell from the look 
in my eyes that I was thinking of someone else when I said that, someone far better than little 
Marvin. She exploded, called me numerous names and slapped my face. I sat there, shocked 
at the sudden outburst.

Then I was dragged from the breakfast table, before I could finish my toast, and taken 
down to the basement, dungeon for correctional punishment. She really did have a dungeon, 
a large room filled with torture devices ranging from small cages to pillories to a rack. Can you
imagine that! A functional rack! It looked like a ladder laying between two braces. At one end 
was a bar to which the unfortunate girl’s hands (or feet) could be tied.

The other end had a pulley with a large handle and a ratchet device so it could be turned a
notch at a time and would not loosen. I shuddered when I saw that.

But the rack was not to be my fate. Actually, having never been on a rack, I probably would
have preferred that to what Martha did have in store for me. It started with my hands being 
unlocked. A length of rope was used to bind them together in front of me, the cinch rope 
then being tied to a metal ring at the end of a chain. She touched a button on the wall and 
the chain went up into a hole in the ceiling, dragging my arms with it. When my feet left the 
floor, she stopped. My ankles were unchained. Below me, I could see that my toes just barely 
missed touching the floor. I sighed. Spending the afternoon hanging by my hands was not 
going to be pleasant.

But such easy punishment was not to be my lot. Martha returned with a little whip and I 
gulped. It was, as they always say in those novels, a wicked-looking whip, all black and with a 
thong at the end to cut a girl’s flesh to ribbons. Her first stroke was just below my rear, where 
the soft flesh of the thighs curves out. I yelled and jerked my legs at the pain.

That little whip was really wicked, I tell you. It felt like it had cut my flesh, and I was sure 
that a trickle of blood was now creeping down my leg. But I had little time for damage 
assessment. Again and again that whip slashed out to torture my poor flesh, until my whole 
bottom was burning and one massive pain.

After the first few strokes, when the cuts began to overlap each other, I did more than yell.

I screamed. A naked girl being whipped can do little save jerk around and scream. I was 
doing both. Each fresh cut brought forth a fresh new scream. It might have looked comical, it 
might have been beautiful, but with each cut I did a little dance on air. I didn’t want to, but 
couldn’t help myself.

I don’t know how many strokes it was before Martha paused to take a breath. I do know 
that I was crying, tears racing down my cheeks, when I looked up to see Marvin standing there
by the door. I don’t think Martha knew he was there, she had walked around to the front of 
me and her back was to the door. When I looked down towards her, I didn’t like what I saw in 
her eyes. She was looking at my breasts, and I knew what that meant. I tried to jerk my body 
around so that my breasts were turned away from her and that terrible whip, but failed. She 
could walk much faster than I could twist.

She slashed that whip across my breasts twice, making an X with the lines passing just 
above and below my nipples. When I stopped screaming, I looked down to see the lines 
turning red and swelling up on the top of my globes. I whined aloud with the agony of 
knowing that my beautiful breasts were going to be all marked up, perhaps cut to tatters by 
this terrible woman.

“Open your legs,” came the voice above my whining. I blinked back tears and tried to look 
at her. Could she be serious? “Open your legs,” came the command again. I considered 
refusing, forcing her to either tie my legs wide or abandoned her intent. I also considered that 
such rebellion would only earn me punishments perhaps worse than being whipped between 
my legs. But what could be worse than for a girl to be whipped right up between her legs?

With muscles trembling from fear and pain, I slowly spread my legs. She made me wait a 
long time before the whip lashed out and up. I screamed at the shock, then turned kind of sick
inside, so great was the pain. If I say that my pussy was on fire, that a sharp pain lanced up 
through me, and that the ache which followed was like nothing else I had ever felt, I would be 
grossly understating the truth. I sort of curled up into a ball, not easy when you’re hanging by 
your wrists, and trembled all over.

Eventually I unfolded and let my aching legs down. There was still a terrible ache in my 
pussy, and I was sure that the tender flesh down there had to be damaged something 
horrible. It was then that I became aware that I was alone in the room. My toes hung limp an 
inch above the floor, my body ached, and I was one very sorry girl. But the whipping had 
stopped, and that was all that counted.

Much later the serving girl, Ramona, came to let me down. My hands were crossed and 
bound behind my back, and I was led from the dungeon back to my cell. When she locked the
door and left me, I wanted to sit down but quickly found that my bottom was far too sore for 
comfort. I explored my beaten flesh with fingertips, but could find no blood. It had only felt 
like the flesh was being cut open. That’s one thing I never have gotten over, the way you’re 
sure your skin is cut to ribbons by a whip but it’s only marked up. Swollen and discolored, but 
not broken.

I couldn’t sit so for a long time I lay on my side, clenching my legs together because that 
helped the ache in my pussy. Eventually I fell asleep but had a troubled nap, filled with dreams
of endless whippings and all the flesh of my body being sliced off. I awoke from a feverish 
sleep with sweat on my face and a strong wish to be comforted by Gary’s arms.

But he was not there and the only comfort I gained was a simple meal brought to me by 
Ramona. She tied my ankles together before giving me the food, and left me with both hands 
and ankles bound when she took away the plate. I settled down for the evening.

About midnight I was awaken by a hand over my mouth. It was dark and I couldn’t see 
much but felt a hand on my face and another holding my arm. “Quiet,” whispered a man’s 
voice.

“Gary!” I tried to say. Then I recognized the voice was Marvin’s.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said. What!?! Was this true? Or some kind of teasing by 
momma’s boy? But he was untying the ropes from my ankles. Then he helped me to my feet 
and out of the cell. We went down the corridor, his hand upon my arm, my mind in a turmoil 
of emotions. I was filled with questions but they would have to go unasked for the time being 
as he obvious wanted to leave as quietly as possible. That was fine with me.

Upstairs we headed towards the front door, or what I assumed was the front door, no light
having been turned on. Outside the cold desert night air hit my skin and made me shiver.

We continued across a courtyard and out an iron gate. There was a dirt road leading 
straight away from the house, apparently the only access to that place. I tried to avoid rocks in
the road after stubbing my toes on a few. There was no moon up and the stars, although very 
brilliant and more numerous than I had ever seen, were little help. Marvin seemed to know 
where he was going so I followed the pressure of his hand upon my arm and tried to avoid 
any bumps in the road.

His car was parked a considerable distance from the house. He opened the door for me to 
get in, and even fastened my seatbelt. Then he got in and started the engine. For a while he 
drove slowly, without lights, until he was sure he was far enough from the house. In the 
headlight, I could see that we were in a real desert filled with lots of sand, rocks and scrub 
bushes. In the distance I could make out mountains rising up to poke at the star-filled sky.

“Marvin….” I began. “Thank you. Are you really taking me back home?”

For a while he didn’t answer and when he did it was with emotion in his voice. “Yes. I’ll take
you home.”

Sensing what he was feeling, I asked, “You don’t want to, do you?”

“No. Oh, Darlene, I’ve always loved you. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve wanted you.

You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. You’ve got a body that … Well, it’s …

Hell! You know what I mean.”

I did. Men were always drooling over my body. But the question had to be asked, “Then 
why are you doing this?”

“I can’t let Mommy keep doing those things to you.” He swallowed and I could see from 
the dim dashboard lights that this wasn’t easy for him. “I saw Mommy whipping you today.

That was too much. I don’t want her turning you into one of those other girls.”

“What other girls?”

“Mommy likes to … Well, to break a girl’s spirit. She whips them and tortures them until 
they’re obedient and submissive and wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Then she’s tired of them 
and she sells them. Don’t ask me where, she never tells me. All she’ll say is that the girls have 
gone someplace where they’ll never be seen again.”

“That’s horrible,” I commented. I wanted to keep him talking, not only because I would 
find out what was happening, but because I figured it would be good for him.

“Sometimes Mommy goes too far and the girls are hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“One girl went crazy. She didn’t become obedient, she just went crazy and started 
screaming every time she saw my Mommy. I guess being locked in that tiny box for days on 
end isn’t good for a girl’s mind. And the ants Mommy poured in had to be bad, too. And 
sometimes Mommy gets a little too mad and hurts a girl too much. She … Well, she simply 
gets mad and really does serious damage. Sometimes. She’s a good Mommy but….”

This wasn’t easy for him. I said simply, and honestly, “Thank you. You’re a good man, 
Marvin.”

“Well,” he continued, “I just couldn’t let Mommy do those things to you. She promised that
when you were a trained slavegirl and obedient she would give you to me and I could have 
you for the rest of my life. But I’m afraid she would hurt you too much. And I’m not sure she 
would really ever let go of you. She likes too a lot. She thinks you’re the best girl she ever 
had.”

“How many girls has she had?”

“About three dozen. For as long as I can remember, Mommy has had a slavegirl girl. Not in
our main house back in Santa Helena, but out here in the desert house. She calls it the 
Chateau, you know. Sometimes she kept two in the cells and the dungeon. I was just nine 
years old when she let me whip my first girl. I liked it. It was a terribly wonderful sense of 
power to be able to whip an adult and see her cry and squirm so. When I was ten, I used to 
tease the girls Mommy had chained or tied up around the place. When I was fifteen, I screwed
one of the girls. I don’t think Mommy knew of it at the time. When I was eighteen, she gave 
me one of the girls, all tied down to my bed. She didn’t know that I had already screwed that 
girl and a lot more, but I thanked her and did it again. She means well.”

“So you know all about bondage and … Well, whipping girls and stuff.”

“Sure. That’s why I was so surprised the first time you asked me to tie you to that post in 
your garden. I thought Mommy had put you up to it or something. When I realized that you 
really liked it, I knew you were the only girl for me.” He drove on the bumpy road for a minute 
in silence before adding, “My mistake was in telling Mommy about what you were having me 
do to you. She took it as an insult to me.”

“And what about you? Were you insulted that I would ask you to tie me but not let you 
have me?”

“No. Maybe. Well, sort of. I wanted you. And the first time I saw you naked, I had to tie you
to that post. And you even made me tie the ropes extra tight. It was so exciting that I could 
hardly keep my hands steady.”

“I’m sorry. No, I mean it. I used you. And I fooled myself into thinking that it was all right 
by telling myself that you were getting satisfaction out of helping me.

We came to a paved road then and he turned onto it. The house was many miles behind 
us and the dirt road to it looked much like dozens of others. No one would have the slightest 
idea that a large house was out there. Or that naked girls were kept prisoner there.

“Does that mean that you … That you … might like me?”

It was my turn to pause for thought. But I couldn’t he to this man. And I knew that I was 
risking his turning around and taking me back. My hands were still tied and I was naked. “I 
know you won’t like this, but I have to be honest with you, Marvin. I like you but I don’t love 
you. You’re just not my kind of man. Besides there’s someone else….”

He sucked in breath but said nothing. A mile later he admitted, “I thought there was 
someone else. You never said so, but I had the feeling. Well, I hope you’re happy with him.”

“Thank you. You really are sweet, Marvin.”

I let the silence continue for a while before changing the subject. “You know I’m still 
naked,” I commented. “Sooner or later we’ll get to where there’s other cars on the road. It 
wouldn’t look good for you to have a naked and . tied up girl in the seat next to you.”

“I guess you’re right. There’s some clothes in the back. Of course, I could just dump you in 
the trunk and take you all the way back to your house just like you left it.”

I looked at him to see if he was serious. He glanced over at me and smiled. “Just kidding,”

he said. I considered that for a minute then said, “Marvin, would you like to do that? Take 
me back all naked and tied up and in the trunk?”

He frowned before answering. “Yes, I would. I like girls tied up. I guess that’s why I didn’t 
untie your hands when I took you out of that cell. Why they’re still tied up now.”

“Stop the car,” I said. He stopped the car and came around to my side. After my seatbelt 
was undone, I got up and walked around to the trunk. “Open it.” He did. I tried to make it 
sound like I was giving orders and expected nothing short of full obedience. I sat on the edge 
of the trunk and swung my feet inside. Then I wiggled down until I was sitting on the floor of 
the trunk. “Tie my feet,” commanded. There was a length of rope in the back seat and he 
fetched it to carry out my orders. As he was wrapping the rope around my ankles, I told him, 
“Make sure to leave enough rope so you can connect them to my wrists.”

When Marvin had finished securing me in a fairly tight hogtie, and was ready to lower the 
trunk lid, I looked up at him and said in a sincere voice, “I’m doing this for you. I hope you 
enjoy knowing that you have a naked, tied up girl in your trunk.”

“Thank you, Darlene. You’re special.”

Then he closed the trunk lid. It was fine with me if he thought that I was doing this totally 
for him, but I had lied a bit. I was also feeling horny and mischievous and in one of my 
submissive moods. Being naked and tied up in the trunk just happen to appeal to me right 
then. A couple hours of hot, bumpy ride later, I was having second thoughts but there was 
nothing I could do about them.

Oddly, I really did hope that Marvin was enjoying this little game.

When we got to my house, it was afternoon and I had spent over six hours in that trunk.

Once, when he stopped for gas, Marvin opened the trunk lid to check on me. I could have 
asked to be let out, but my perverse natured made me play the game out. I could see gas 
pumps and other cars and knew he was taking a chance that I might be seen. But that only 
added to the excitement of the game, for both of us. I could tell by the look in his eyes.

Marvin was met at the front door by my butler, George, who helped him carry me up to 
my room. George, bless his ever-faithful heart, showed no surprise that his mistress would 
arrive naked and hogtied in the trunk of a car. He was used to my wild games. Nor did he say 
a thing about the whip marks that crisscrossed my bottom and breasts. He was a good 
servant.

When I was deposited upon my bed, George politely bowed out, leaving me with Marvin. 
It was good to be back in my own bedroom, I can tell you. I looked up at Marvin to see if he 
would take the next step and what it would be.

“You’ve been tied up long enough,” he said. “I’ll untie you.” He began removing the ropes 
joining my feet and hands.

“Marvin, before you untie my hands….”

“Yes?”

“Would you put me on my back and tie my legs spread to the bed? There’s rope in that 
drawer over there.”

One eyebrow lifted on his face. “And then … Well, you deserve a reward.” I tried to make 
my tone tell him that my body was his to have. And that I was sincere about it.

He untied my feet and positioned me on the bed so my legs would be spread wide. It was 
a comfortable position and I was feeling so good about being home. When my legs were 
solidly bound, he stood back. I propped myself up on elbows and smiled at him.

“Please….” I purred. “This little girl needs it….”

What man can resist an offer like that? He dropped his pants and I was happy to see that I 
wasn’t going to have to insult him to get him mad enough to screw me. He mounted the bed 
and began a very satisfactory job of screwing me without the insults.

It wasn’t as good as Gary, I suppose you know that. But I put on a show of enjoying it, only
a tiny bit faked, and really did hit a good orgasm. A little while later he had his and I hoped it 
was as good for him as it was for me.

When I could focus my eyes again, he had just finished putting on his pants. He looked at 
me with a gentle smile on his face. “I’ll untie you now,” he said.

I propped myself up on elbows again to ask, “Please, would you not untie me? Please put 
that dildo you bought inside me and tie it in place? Nice and tight? You can tell George to 
come up an untie me in time for dinner. I want to take a nap.”

Marvin went to the dresser draw for the dildo. He tied it in place with hard jerks on the 
rope and made the strands cut deeply into my waist and between my legs. It felt good.

As he was leaving, I called out, “Thank you, Marvin. You’re so good to me.”

Everything was back to normal.





CHAPTER ELEVEN - Handcuffed to a Post-Different Ways


A week passed and the whip marks faded. I didn’t call Marvin and heard nothing from this 
mother. Which was fine with me. For a while the next day I considered telling the police about 
her kidnapping me and that place she had in the desert. But there was too much about the 
whole affair that I didn’t think it best to tell them. Like why I was naked and tied up before the 
kidnappers came. Or where that house in the desert was. All I had seen was some of the 
desert at night, and then I was in the trunk of a car the rest of the way. There was no way I 
could find the place again.

I did worry about what Martha might do. She was not quite playing with a full deck, you 
know. It would not have surprised me if she tried to kidnap me again. As a precaution, I told 
George what had happened. He was a good servant and kept his own views to himself, no 
matter how crazy he thought my games might be. But I made it clear to him that Martha was 
not one of my games and if I ever disappeared again, he should not believe anything she or 
anyone else told him, and go to the police. That way I figured if she kidnapped me again, the 
police would soon know who did it and they would take over from there. I also promised 
George that if I were ever to be gone for the night on one of my games (or longer), I would 
tell him so he wouldn’t worry.

Things settled back into a normal routine after that. I grew more and more restless, and I 
knew the reason. I missed Gary Norton. And I worried about what he must have thought when
I didn’t show up at the appointed time. So I ran another ad in the paper:

Gary, Sorry I missed our date. Again, Friday night? Same time and place? I’ll be there, I 
promise. Humbly, YSG.

I figured he would translate YSG as “Your Slave Girl.” And I made plans to be at the old 
Milton place, come hell or high water.

As Friday night drew near, my heart was all a flutter, like some school girl on her first date.

I kept checking in the mirror on the progress of the whip marks fading. If they weren’t all 
gone, and Gary asked about them, I would just tell him the truth. But I wanted my skin to be 
clear of the marks put there by that horrible woman. If Gary wanted to mark it up, that was 
different.

Finally the sun was growing lower in the sky and I could wait no longer. I told George that 
I might be gone the whole night, packed a small purse, and left in my sports car, driving far 
too fast down the road to San Helena Beach. I parked my Corvette in the public lot and 
started down the sand, ignoring the stares at my tiny red bikini and the sometimes crude 
comments from the young men on the beach. I had no time to flirt with them.

It was not yet sundown when I reached the path leading up the cliffs to the Milton place. I 
looked around but found no little bag that Gary might have put there. Fight down the impulse
to rush up the path, I sat down on the sand and forced myself to wait for sundown. Not only 
had Gary’s original orders to me stated that I was to come at seven o’clock, the way I planned 
to climb the path would work much better if there wasn’t enough sunlight for people to see 
me. I waited and fidgeted.

It was not easy, but I waited until my watch read exactly seven o’clock. The sun was pretty 
much down but there was still a lot of light. I hoped that none of the people I could see up 
the beach were looking this way with binoculars. I went to the beginning of the path and put 
down my purse. As if following a ritual, I untied my string bikini and placed it carefully on the 
ground. For a moment I stood there, completely naked and quivering inside with excitement. 
Then I took the pair of handcuffs from my purse and locked them on my wrists behind my 
back. I made sure that they were clicked down very snugly. It was a thrill when the second cuff 
clicked shut and I felt the metal touching my wrists all the way around.

That was the point of no return. I had not brought the key with me. If Gary had no key, 
then I was stuck. Or if Gary didn’t show up … I pushed that thought from my mind as I stuffed 
my bikini into my purse and hid them both behind a bush. Then I started up the path.

It was not as hard as the last time I had climbed, mostly because that time my ankles had 
been locked in handcuffs as well as my wrists. Half way up the cliff, I paused to look out over 
the last of a beautiful sunset. There were a few sailboats making back for Santa Helena, I could
see their running lights on the dark water. And I wondered if they could see a naked girl 
struggling up a path, not using her hands at all. With my back to the sea, someone with 
binoculars might well make out the handcuffs. It sent a thrill racing down my spine at the 
thought of being see like this. I really didn’t want to be seen, but the possibility of it was 
exciting.

I reached the top of the cliff and there was the old house. It was dark. I had hoped to see 
at least the flickering of a candle, some sign that Gary was there. But there was nothing.

I walked through the patio and into the lounge. For a moment I stood under the beam 
where he had hung me upside down. It had been only a few weeks before but seemed like an 
eternity. In the fading orange light I could see little to show that a man and a woman had 
played erotic games here. I don’t know what I expected, a plaque perhaps, commemorating 
the event. But there was nothing.

I went outside, my heart sinking. It would be a long walk back down the path and along 
the beach to my car. And I would have to find someone to help me. I really didn’t have the 
handcuff key. Perhaps I could tell the police that I was robbed and left naked and handcuffed 
by the robber. That was about the best story I could think of.

From the edge of the patio I watched the last glow of sunlight fade, along with my hopes.

With a sigh, I guessed that Gary was making me pay for my having stood him up last time.

How could he know that it was not my fault? Perhaps I should have put some kind of 
explanation in the ad. Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, they say. If I had, perhaps he would be 
here and we would be having fun, instead of my facing a long walk and humiliation at the end
of it.

I turned once more back to the house before beginning my walk. It was then that I noticed
a faint green glow coming from inside the lounge. I walked over and followed the glow.

Behind the bar I found a glow stick, one of those plastic cylinders that you bent until the 
glass inside broke, and then it glowed for hours with a greenish light. Next to it was a note 
and a bag. I got down on my knees to read the note:

Dear Darlene, Take all your clothes off, if any are on. In the patio there are five posts.

Take this bag to the middle post. Inside you will find two pairs of handcuffs. Sit down 
facing the post and place your legs around it. Lock one pair of handcuffs on your ankles.

Lock the other pair on your wrists after placing your arms around the post. Each pair will 
be locked as tightly as you can. I will come by sometime before tomorrow night to unlock you.
Yours, Gary

That was all. I turned my back and picked up the bag. It jingled metallically. Then I went to 
the patio and the posts. They were wooden, square, and about four inches thick each.

Clothing had already been taken care of. And I could sit down and put my legs around the
post with no problem. But putting my arms around the post would prove a little harder. For a 
while I thought about what I could do, but there was simply no way I could fix myself up as he 
described. I would just have to do the best I could.

The concrete was still warm from the day as I placed my bare bottom on it. I put my legs 
around the post and then discovered that I couldn’t reach around with my hands to lock the 
cuffs around my ankles. One cuff could be locked on before my legs went around the post, 
but the other would require my hands, or at least one hand. I couldn’t figure out anyway to do
it.

Well, that shot my plans to have my legs at least around the post when Gary came. How 
was I to know that he would expect me to chain myself up for his pleasure? It was typical of 
the man, but I couldn’t get angry over that. I enjoyed being submissive to his wishes.

Well, if I couldn’t get my legs around the post that way, perhaps I could find some other 
way. In the end, I figured out two ways that I could do it. One was to kneel down with my back
to the post and my feet behind it. One ankle would have a handcuff already locked on it. Then
I would arch my back and bend down until I could reach the handcuffs. It might not be too 
easy, but I figured I could lock the other cuff on. Then I would have the choice of kneeling 
there until he came, or falling flat on my face to lay down on my stomach until he came.

But the way I finally choose was different. I locked one of his pairs of handcuffs on my 
ankles, clicking them down snug. Then I locked on cuff of the second pair around the 
handcuffs already on my wrists. I lay on my side, back against the post, arched my back and 
put my arms and legs behind the post. It wasn’t too hard to find the free cuff and lock it 
around the chain connecting my ankles together. That put me in a form of hogtie while 
wrapped around the post. I could not leave the post, that was for sure. Nor could I possibly 
get free, all the handcuffs were locked on too tight to slip off. I was quite solidly secured.

I knew that Gary would understand why I wasn’t in the position he had described when I 
explained how I had already been handcuffed. And I knew that a hogtie, with my arms and 
legs behind me and my body nicely arched, would look good. I hoped the sight of me secured
to that post would excite him. The possibilities were exciting me.

It was an hour later that I began to wonder how long he would make me wait. Or was he 
already there, watching from the bushes or house? Would I have to wait an hour more?

Two hours? It was then that I realized two facts. One, he thought that I had stood him up 
on the last “date.” And second, this was a much more uncomfortable position than the one he
had defined for me. Thinking about it, I realized that sitting there with my arms and legs in 
front of me and around a post was a very mild restraint. There had to be a reason he chose 
that position and it could only be because he expect me to be there for a long time.

Like all night! He had said that he would come by to unlock me sometime before 
tomorrow night.

The trouble was that I was not in the comfortable position he expected to find me in. I was
locked in a hogtie with far less mobility than what he had defmed for me. I sighed loudly and 
called myself several kinds of a fool. I was sure that I would be in for a very long night and 
possibly most of the next day, and that I would be very uncomfortable the whole time.

And I had no one to blame but myself. Gary would have me in a comfortable position. It 
was me who fouled up everything, first by coming with my hands handcuffed behind me, and 
second by putting myself in this hogtie.

How can I explain the apprehension at being naked and hogtied around that post for so 
long? And how excited it made me inside? My loins were warmed up nicely, my pussy tingling 
and ready for some loving attention. And I couldn’t even touch myself! At least the way Gary 
had told me to lock myself would have allowed me to rub my pussy against the post. Not the 
same as having a man, but a chained up girl has to make do with what she has. And this one 
couldn’t rub her pussy against anything. Nor could she touch herself. I looked down and could
barely see my nipples hard and erect.

I knew that was going to be a long night.

I was getting hungry. The sun had risen to find my nudity still laying on the cold concrete, 
arms and legs wrapped around the wooden post and securely locked in steel. The sun had 
climbed into the sky while I warmed up a bit but I still shivered at the idea that I was not going
to be rescued. If Gary didn’t show up by sunset that evening, I was going to start doing some 
screaming for help.

Actually, I really wanted to do some as I lay there and the day stretched out. The sun was 
nice where it warmed me but I would loved dearly to be able to roll onto my stomach or my 
other side. My shoulders were not very happy about this, although my legs were taking it in 
stride. My back hurt some, as did my wrists and ankles where the cold clutch of steel bit in. All 
in all, there was really little serious pain, at least compared to what I had endured at the hands
of Martha the Mean. Or even at the hands of Gary. He had left me rather tightly bound all 
night the first time in his van. And he had caused me considerable pain the time he hung me 
upside down only a few paces from where I lay then. But this was most unpleasant because I 
simply could not move, was rather hungry, and more than a little bored. But I guess a slavegirl
has to get used to those kind of things.

And that is what I thought of myself as, a slavegirl, owned and controlled by one Gary 
Norton. I probably would never have labeled myself as such, but Gary used that word.

From him, it was a nice label, it meant he owned me. From Martha it was a life sentence to 
misery.

Well, that was all fine and good, but where was my owner? He was certainly getting back 
at me for missing the last date, wasn’t he? I groaned and wondered when I would see my next 
meal. In my hurry to get up there, I had forgone dinner. As I saw the sun begin its downward 
creep, I knew it had been twenty-four hours since I last had eaten. My stomach growled at me.

When Gary came, the sun had descended below the small fence around the patio and was 
not far away from setting.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he said cheerfully. “You don’t seem to be in the position I 
told you to assume. And you seem to have two extra pairs of handcuffs on you! Well, well!

And it was all your doing. I am impressed.”

He squatted down beside me and looked into my eyes. I wanted to scream at him for 
leaving me so long, and kiss him madly because I was so glad to see him. I did neither.

“Surely you must have realized the possibility that I would not come for you last night. I 
did mention this evening as a deadline, did I not? You must have been pretty uncomfortable 
all this time. Nice hogtie.”

I gritted my teeth but could not hold back my anger. “You! You…! Bastard!”

“Now, now, that’s no way for a slavegirl to speak to her master.”

“Master, hell! Why didn’t you show up last night? You left me to suffer all night and all 
day.”

“True,” he said. “But it’s also true that you didn’t show up last time you made an 
appointment. That wasn’t nice, you know. I think a few hours sitting with your arms and legs 
around a post would be the least punishment you deserved. The fact that you chose a 
different position is not my fault.”

“I didn’t stand you up!” I was angry. “I couldn’t make it here.”

Before I could explain, he stood up and started to walk away. “Wait!” I cried. “Where are 
you going?”

“Someplace where slavegirls speak to their Masters with respect. I’ll come back tomorrow 
and see if you’re more willing to be humble.”

“Wait! I was kidnapped!”

That got his attention. He casually returned and sat down on the cement next to me.

“Sounds interesting, pray do tell me your story.”

I told him. It was embarrassing to admit that I had asked Marvin to hogtie me and that 
was the reason Martha and he had no trouble carrying me away from my own house. But he 
knew of my little games, he had first met me while I was tied to a post, remember? I told him 
what Martha had done to me, and of Marvin’s rescue of me. He looked at the fresh whip 
marks on my bottom and breasts. When I was finished, he did not speak for a while, his face 
deep in thought.

“For some strange reason, I believe you. Are you hogtied around that post because you 
came up here with your hands locked behind you?” I nodded. “As I thought. I don’t think that 
a girl who would come up here naked and with her hands handcuffed behind her for one 
appointment would simply stand me up for another. I was going to leave you hugging the 
post all night and day, then come now, unlock you, give your bottom a hard swat and send 
you on your way back down the path. With no sex. It was to be punishment. But perhaps 
you’ve had enough punishment already.”

He produced a tiny key and began unlocking my handcuffs. My arms were stiff but all the 
parts worked. As soon as the last of the handcuffs were off, I threw my arms around his neck 
and kissed him with intensity.

He returned my kiss but seemed amused by my sexual hunger. He held me at arm’s length
and smiled at me. I was so happy! He knew that I hadn’t stood him up. He knew that I really 
wanted to be his slavegirl. And he knew that I was so serious about it that I would hogtie 
myself around the post rather than sitting down comfortably. Life was wonderful!

We stood up and I threw myself on him. My hands were heading towards the zipper of his 
pants, my intent to free his phallus from its prison and lavish it with attention from my warm 
mouth and tongue. But his strong hands pulled my arms behind my back and locked a pair of 
handcuffs on them. Then he allowed me to sink to my knees and bury my face in his pants, 
trying to work his zipper down with my teeth. Laughing, he pushed my face gently aside and 
unzipped it himself. His rod emerged at nearly full attention and I immediately pounced upon 
it with my mouth.

I’ll have to admit that I was a bit wanton that evening on the patio. I worked his tool like 
there was no tomorrow. Perhaps it was all the emotions pent up in me for twenty-four hours 
of laying there in a hogtie, horny as hell every minute of that time. Perhaps I simply loved him.
But the results was the same no matter what the motivation. I rocked my head back and forth,
sliding his shaft from my lips to deep within my mouth. And it had the desired effect. With a 
moan, he came in my mouth. I swallowed his load, happy to do so.

I was content to sink to my bottom on the concrete afterwards but Gary was not. He 
picked up the three pairs of handcuffs from the ground and put them in his pocket. Then he 
firmly grabbed my arms and turned me around. He unlocked one of the cuffs from my wrist 
and pushed me down to the concrete. He lifted my legs until I was resting on my shoulders 
and head only, and pulled me over undl the post was against my back. Then he held me up by
one ankle and took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, locked one cuff around the ankle he 
held, then pulled my other foot towards the one he held. That one he locked in the second 
cuff, securing my feet on the other side of the post from my body.

Then he lowered me down until my weight was mostly on my shoulders. He squatted 
down and pulled my free hand towards the empty cuff. The metal cuff clicked loudly as he 
made it snug around my wrist. Then he stood back.

I was in a hell of a fix. All my weight was on my shoulders with my hands and feet both 
locked around the post and behind me. My nipples were only a few inches from my face. If he 
left me in that position, the last twenty-four hours would seem like paradise in comparison. 
That was one very awkward position and sure to grow uncomfortable very fast.

But he didn’t leave me alone. Well, he did for a minute but only while he went into the 
house. He returned with a chair which he put very close to me. Then he sat down, his feet on 
either side of my head, and grabbed my hips in his hands. By leaning forward, he could easily 
reach my wide open sex with his mouth. And that’s what he did! One hand moved over 
between my legs and his fingers spread my labia wide. Then his tongue was gently lapping at 
my clit. I went rigid as his tongue begin caressing my most sensitive place and I tingled all 
over. It wasn’t long before I was in a high state of excitement and moaning steadily.

But he didn’t allow me the climax that could have been mine in only another minute of 
that kind of stimulation. With a feeling for the degree of my arousal that few men possess, he 
built me up to the edge of an orgasm, then backed off and left her hanging there to suffer the
agony of frustration. But such a delicious agony! I was thrusting my hips the small amount 
allowed me by that awkward position and would have happily grabbed my own sex and 
masturbated myself into a climax in a second had my hands not bee locked behind the post.

He let me linger in agony for long minutes, teasing my nipples a bit, running his hands 
gently along my flanks, and teasing the inner thighs with his fingers and tongue. I was 
moaning and about to plead for him to touch me again when his tongue was suddenly on my 
clit, gently massaging it with tiny licks. I sucked in air and whined in ecstasy. It was wonderful!

I would have been happy had he allowed me an orgasm right then. But he didn’t. Skillfully 
he led me up to one then denied it at the last second. I even banged my bottom against the 
post in hopes that the pain might push me over into the climax I so badly wanted. But in the 
end it was his tongue that did it. After a long, long time and many near climaxes he finally let 
me have my goal. The way he sucked and teased my clit with his tongue was wonderful, and I 
could not have avoided an intense climax even if I had wanted to.





CHAPTER TWELVE - Bondage in a Fancy Restaurant


I drifted back down to earth much later. It was dark and I was still locked to the post in my 
upside down, backwards position. My wrists and ankles hurt some from the handcuffs, but I 
wasn’t in any serious pain. As my mind was able to focus again, I realized with a gasp of fear 
that Gary was no where in sight. I turned frantically from side to side as much as that position 
allowed me, but he was not around. I wanted to cry in frustration. That bastard could make 
me feel so good one minute and then make me suffer the next.

I called out his name, hoping that perhaps he was still there. After all, why should he keep 
punishment me? I knew that I hadn’t stood him up, didn’t he? And that meant that the 
twenty-four hours I had spent hogtied to that post was punishment undeserved. It was sort of
like I had paid my punishment before doing anything to deserve it. He owed me a free one!

“I don’t owe you anything,” came his voice from behind me. He followed it, walking 
around to where I could see him in the faint light. He was smoking a pipe and I could see the 
reddish glow of it when he tilted the bowl just right.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “You were just thinking that you didn’t deserve being 
punished in the first place, and that I owed you something for that. Well, slave, I wasn’t the 
one who put you in a hogtie on that post. I might also point out that if you reasoned that I 
would leave you handcuffed to the post all night as punishment for a crime you did not 
commit, then perhaps you shouldn’t have locked yourself around the post. You could have 
simply sat down and waited for me to come, then explained the situation. You didn’t have to 
lock yourself to the post.”

Damn! He was right. Until he shoved me upside down against the post, I had been the one
who had locked all those handcuffs on myself.

“Of course, I did appreciate your devotion to being a good slave. Good slavegirls accept 
punishment whether they have done anything to deserve it or not. Often their Masters 
punishment them simply because they want to. I guess you simply were being a good slavegirl
when you followed my orders and locked yourself as best you could to the post.”

What was going on? He was arguing both sides of the argument for me.

“So we’ll just forget about the last twenty-four hours. Now, would you like to be unlocked 
from that rather awkward looking positions? I could easily just walk away. Perhaps you can 
work yourself free of the handcuffs. Or someone with a handcuff key might come by and let 
you down.”

“I would like to get back on my feet, Master,” I said in what I hoped was a properly 
submissive tone. And I felt that way. I had locked myself to the post because his note told me 
to-it was that simple. ‘And thank you, Master, for the wonderful orgasm you gave me.”

He only grunted, as if he didn’t want to admit to having given me such pleasure. Perhaps 
masters are not suppose to give pleasure to their slavegirls. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, 
a master can do anything he wants to his slavegirl.

“I’ll unlock you, but only on one condition.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ll come with me and let me treat you to a nice dinner. You’re probably pretty hungry.”

“Oh, yes! Master! Thank you.”

I had forgotten how hungry I was until he mentioned it again. He unlocked my wrists first, 
then the ankles. I was a little unsteady on my feet for a few seconds, which made me wonder 
how long I had been locked in that inverted position.

“Your clothes at the bottom of the cliff?”

“Yes, Master.”

“A bikini?”

“A red string bikini, Master.”

“Figures. Well, come on.” I followed him away from the house and the cliff. On the other 
side of the house his van was waiting. “You mean there’s a road leading right up here?”

“Of course. How do you think Henry Milton got to his house?”

“And you made me walk all the way up the beach and climb that path, naked and 
handcuffed?”

“More romantic that way, don’t you think?”

I had laugh at the way he said it. I climbed into the back of the van. That small bed 
brought back memories and I felt my loins growing warm yet again. But my stomach was also 
growling at me.

Gary opened a drawer from a wall unit and withdrew a light weight summer dress. It was a 
lovely emerald green color and very sheer and shone even in the dim light. I took it and held it
up to my body. It seemed like it would fit. I lifted it over my head and wiggled into it.

It clung to my curves like it was painted on. He showed me to a small mirror where I could 
see about half of me at a time. What I could see was pretty strong stuff. That dress made me 
look more naked than I had been without it. The lack of underwear was obvious where it came
to my breasts, but left you guessing about panties. It was so soft and comfortable on me that I
had to wonder if it was custom made to my measurement.

I turned to him and said, “It’s beautiful. But I’ll need shoes if I’m to go into a restaurant.”

He produced a pair of matching green high heels, the right size, of course. I put them on.

“Ready when you are, Master.”

We drove down the coast to Cardiff by the Sea, and Rubio’s, a very fine restaurant there.

No comment was made about my next to nothing dress, and we were led to a very private 
booth. I wanted to order everything on the menu but forced myself to be content with a good
steak. And salad. And baked potato. And cheesecake dessert.

After dinner was cleared away, brandy was set before us. It was nice to be sitting there 
with Gary, content with a good meal in me and still in the afterglow of sexual satisfaction.

Not that it kept me from thinking about future sexual satisfaction. I asked the waiter to 
bring a phone. When he did, I called George, told him I was okay, and that I would be gone 
yet another night. Gary smiled faintly at that but did not correct me.

When the phone was gone, Gary slide a little closer to me. “Pulled up your dress,” he 
whispered to me.

I glanced around. It was pretty dark in that booth, they were, after all, meant for privacy 
and romantic intimacy. Well, this one was going to get more intimate than most, I had a 
feeling. I reached down until I could touch the hem of the dress and then began a slow wiggle
to slide it up, all the while trying not to draw attention from the other customers. It took a bit 
but finally my dress was around my hips, exposing all of my legs. For good measure, I tugged 
it up until all of the material was around my waist. Gary couldn’t fault me for half hearted 
effort.

He glanced down and was pleased to find me naked from the waist down. He leaned over 
and kissed me gently. I began wondering if it was possible to be screwed in a restaurant 
booth. One hand reached for his brandy and, as he sipped it, the other slipped down my belly.
I spread my legs a bit to allow it between then. His fingers began teasing me in a way that was
hard to resist. I found myself breathing a little harder but otherwise keeping the signs of 
sexual arousal to myself. Well, maybe I was blushing a bit, but that was covered by the dim 
booth lighting.

“Turn your back to me and put your hands behind you.” I did, wondering what he had in 
mind. When I felt the clutch of steel around my thumbs, I knew. Thumbcuffs! I had seen them 
in the magic store when I bought the handcuffs. They were not joined by a link of chain like 
handcuffs, but were a solid piece with two small cuffs that hinge at each end and lock in the 
middle. When both my thumbs were locked solidly in steel behind the knuckle, I turned back 
to my drink but could no longer pick it up. My heart was beating faster. Never had I been 
restrained in such a public place. What if someone were to see?

What if the waiter came over and saw my condition?!

“Gary … Master, isn’t this a bit much? I mean, all those people….”

“They’re busy with their own little problems,” he whispered back. Then his hand slid down 
between my legs. I spread them to widened the distance between them and was rewarded 
when he spread my labia with a thumb and one finger while another finger stroked my clit.

It sent electric shocks into my body. I wanted very much to moan with pleasure.

“Please don’t! Oh, this is wonderful but all those people. Please….” I was whispering but 
feared someone would hear. Surely those people could not miss my heavy breathing and all 
that bare skin exposed under the table.

He toyed with my sex, then let me come a little way down. Then he toyed with it again and
I was more excited than ever. I pulled at the thumbcuffs enough to convince myself that I 
could not pull my thumbs free. What a wonderful bondage device! Small enough to fit in the 
palm of your hand, but secure enough to rob a girl of her arms.

His talented fingers worked me up to very near an undesired orgasm then left. “I’ll be back
shortly,” he said and left the booth. I gasped in panic but held back calling to his retreating 
back. I was on my own!

There wasn’t much I could do. In order to pull my dress down, I would have to wiggle out 
of the seat, stand up and wiggled until the material fell. With my thumbs securely locked 
behind my back, there was no way I could push the dress down. I leaned back against the 
softness of the seat and closed my eyes.

“Is there anything madam wishes?” asked an voice. I opened my eyes to find the waiter 
standing there.

“No,” I gasped. “Gary … He’ll be back in a moment. Nothing. I need nothing.”

“Very well, madam.” He gave me a strange look but said nothing about my hands being 
behind my back. When my heart began beating again, I cursed myself for getting into such 
situations. But it was exciting, I had to admit.

Gary returned. So did his hand. While he sipped brandy and looked unconcerned, this 
fingers were teasing my private place mercilessly. When my orgasm came, I clamped my legs 
about his hand, squeezed for all I was worth, and tried to remain perfectly calm above the 
table. I fear I failed but the tiny gasps and trembling of my body apparently went unnoticed. It
was nothing short of a superhuman effort of will for me to keep from crying out in ecstasy. As 
the trembling subsided, I leaned against my benefactor. “You bastard,” I hissed but without 
heat.

“How did you know about my parents?” he whispered back and smiled at me. I smiled 
weakly back.

He finally unlocked my thumbs, and I was able to pull down my dress. As we left the 
restaurant, I looked back to the booth we had been sitting in. The table cloth hung over the 
edge far enough so that most of my legs would not have been visible. But I hadn’t realized 
that from where I sat, and it had certainly been one exciting experience.

Gary took me back to the Milton house and, at my request, hung me upside down from 
the beam in the lounge. As I slowly twisted in the candle light, he asked what I would like 
then.

Like a good slavegirl, I replied, “Anything you want, Master.” And I meant it.

He whipped my bottom with his belt, but only five swats, enough to heat it up and awaken
my body again. Then he took off his clothes and stood up against my nudity as I hung by my 
ankles. His fingers preyed upon my labia and his tongue attacked my clit. As the same time I 
had captured his penis in my mouth and was trying to give my master all the pleasure I could.

We both worked slowly, gently, bringing each other up to climax easily. It was nonetheless 
wonderful if not quite as frantic as the earlier orgasms. I shuddered and arched my body.

He cried out a little as he came. I would have, too, but my mouth was filled at the time. As 
he separated from me, I could feel myself jerking around like a fish at the end of a line. It felt 
good to feel the ropes cutting into my ankles with each jerk and the sway of my body as I 
hung there.

I was very happy.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN - A Slavegirl’s Plan


Late that night Gary untied me. He sent me down the path to the beach with nothing more 
than memories of a wonderful time. Gary had put that wonderful green dress in a small bag, 
weighted it down with a rock, and as we stood at the top of the path, he threw it out towards 
the ocean. I couldn’t see it hit the beach, but I knew it was down there, someplace between 
the cliff and the sea. I climbed down the path wearing nothing but a smile. It took a while to 
find the bag in the dark, but I didn’t mind. Somehow wandering around the beach completely 
naked seemed proper.

But practical matters have to be taken care of. It wouldn’t do to allow people to find a 
naked girl walking around in the morning. So I found the bag and put on that lovely, 
curve-hugging dress to cover my nudity. Then I recovered the purse with my bikini and 
strolled down the beach to my car.

George was glad to see me and expressed no criticism that it as two o’clock in the 
morning. What he thought of the stupid smile on my face, or the rope marks still deep in the 
flesh of my ankles, I don’t know. I went to bed a very happy girl that night.

The next day, after sleeping late, I took a swim in the pool and lay in the sun, sipping a 
wine cooler, and pondering what to do next. Certainly I was going to meet Gary Norton again.
How could I not? But why couldn’t I simply call him up? Why hadn’t he given me a phone 
number, and address, or something so I could contact him. Leaving ads in the personal 
classified section of the newspaper was not very efficient. But my detective had not been able 
to find anyone by that name.

I lay on the lounger and thought hard. What did I know about Gary? He had a van. Once 
again I cursed myself for not looking to see if there was a license plate number. He was really 
great at tying a girl with ropes and had a wild imagination. And he had a wonderful rod inside 
his pants that he could use with great skill and endurance. He could be cruel but not harmful. 
Making me helpless and excited in that restaurant had been something else, that’s for sure. 
And I knew that he read the newspaper.

Outside of that, I knew nothing about Gary Norton. What did he do for a living? Was he 
married? Married! That was not a very nice thought. But somehow I just couldn’t see that hunk
of a man with a little woman at home, a wedding ring through his nose. Then it occurred to 
me that I hadn’t even looked for a wedding ring. Did he have one? All I could remember was 
that he had a class ring on one hand. So he was a college grad. That narrowed it down 
considerable. Not!

How could I find out where he lived. If he was married. If he liked pizza. If he would 
consider marrying me. You know, the important things about a man.

Well, he didn’t have to marry me. I would be content to be his live-in girlfriend. No, make 
that live-in slavegirl. Now that was a thought that sent shivers down my spine. Being a full 
time slavegirl for Martha and her wimpy son was not good. Being a slavegirl to Gary was 
good. See how simple life can be?

I finally decided that I would have to put plans to discover the secret behind Gary Norton 
on the back burner. More immediate was the questions of how soon could I see him again. 
Would one week be too short? I could drive down to the newspaper and get a classified in for 
the next day’s paper. Surely he would see that before the next weekend.

And what to do? Another rendezvous at the Milton place? Or something else? I could tell 
him that I’ll be waiting at the post in the garden where he first saw me. The idea of my being 
tightly bound to the post, completely naked, of course, and waiting for him to come made my
loins warm. Maybe I’d wear that red string bikini. No use giving him everything immediately. 
Make him work to get into my private place.

But not too hard. Or perhaps something else. Couldn’t I be as mysterious as he? That gave 
me something to think about. I could pick some place other than my backyard or the Milton 
place. Someplace at least semi-private where I could be tied up and waiting. The idea 
occurred to me that I could tell him to meet me at Rubio’s in Cardiff, say at eight o’clock 
Friday night. Then I could go to Rubio’s at seven, take our booth, and be waiting for him to 
come. I would arrange for that lovely emerald dress to be hiked up around my waist and my 
hands behind my back because my thumbs were locked in a pair of thumbcuffs. That would 
be nice. I could just feel his hand sliding down my front to my pubic patch and then to tease 
me where I wanted it real bad.

But he had already done that. I wanted something that he hadn’t done. Something that 
was my own invention, something that would tell him I had a wild imagination, too. But what?

It took me most of the afternoon to figure out a plan both foolproof and exciting. I went 
over it in my mind a dozen times and shivered with delight each time. It was beautiful! And it 
would show him that I’m one slavegirl with ideas of her own. A little research in the library and
then a trip in my Corvette to scout out some territory, and I was ready to put the plan into 
action.

Step one: back to the bedroom, remove bikini, lay on bed and practice important 
maneuver. Discovered it would not be easy but was possible.

Step two: an ad in the newspaper:

G.N., Will meet you 3.55 miles NNW of the place you first saw me. 8 p.m. this Friday. I’ll be 
ready to party, a real MID. Love, D.W.

That should do it. He would have to get a map to figure out the location, but that 
shouldn’t be a problem. I picked a starting point that was known only to him and me. And the 
part about being ready to party would tell him that I would be somehow bound or restrained 
and ready for him. It shouldn’t be too hard for him to figure that MED stood for “Maiden in 
Distress.”

I drove the ad to the newspaper office that same day. The clerk gave me a strange look 
but took my money and assured me it would be in the next day’s paper. There were always 
strange personals, and mine wasn’t all that unusual.

Step three: drove to into the nearest city of any size for some needed supplies. It was after 
dinner when I returned but I was happy and held a bag filled with goodies I would need. I 
spread them out on my bed as soon as I got into my room. Six pairs of handcuffs, the stout, 
hinge-less kind by Peerless. I would need only three or, at most four of them, but it’s always 
good to be well stocked. Besides, I love the feel and look of those solid handcuffs.

There was also a roll of wide, gray duct tape, a package of clothespins, a length of medium
sized chain, a stout padlock, and a box containing a dozen paper packets of itching powder. 
The powder I got from a magic store, the tape, clothespins, chain and lock from a hardware 
store, and the handcuffs from a uniform supply store. I put them all in a large purse, except for
two pairs of handcuffs which I put in my drawer. I would take only four pairs with me.

I couldn’t wait until the next day, so I sat down at the computer in the office, and typed a 
short note then printed it. I put the note in an envelope and sealed it. Then I carried that back 
to my purse and dropped it in with the handcuffs and other stuff. That was step four.

Step five: the next day I drove around until I found the road that lead to the Milton place.

There was a gate but I found that it was not locked and went in. The lounge was my 
destination and I finished step five there. Then back to my house.

Step six: Friday afternoon. All day I could feel myself growing more and more excited as 
the hours wore so slowly on. Would it never get dark? I checked out all the contents of my 
purse at least five times. Finally the sun was setting and I set out on my mission. I drove to a 
spot one mile from the place I had defined in my ad. I parked the car well off the road where 
no one would see it. Then I set out on foot to meet my fate.

I wore only tennis shoes and a rather conservative bikini. It was hot and all the young girls 
were going around in bikinis. It’s expected of the beautiful people.

Only a couple cars passed me as I walked along the road, purse in hand and heat beating 
fast. The place I had picked was a little ways from the paved road, up a dirt road. There was a 
clearing out of sight of the main road and easy to find. On the edge of that clearing was the 
concrete foundation of a house that had burnt down many years before and never been 
rebuilt. But what was of interest to me was a small fence made of metal pipes set in concrete. 
The sun was below the tree tops when I reached the clearing but there was still plenty of light 
to see by.

I had checked on topographical map and this clearing was the only thing anywhere near 
3.55 miles NNW of the post in my garden. The map clearly showed the short dirt road leaving 
to this clearing then stopping. If Gary would be as accurate, those instructions would be as 
good as a bright beacon shining in the night. He would find me. But no one else would even 
know where to begin.

I went to the place where the pipe fence was in plain sight from the dirt road. Then I set 
down my purse and began setting my plan into motion. It was about 6:30, so I knew I had 
plenty of time before I could expect him to come along to rescue his maiden in distress.

First I took a large towel from the purse and spread it out on the ground with one end up 
against the base of the post. Then I set out the equipment along the edge of the towel.

With a last glance around to make sure I was alone, I removed my bikini and shoes and 
tossed them into the forest.

First there was the gag. I took the piece of cloth I had chosen and rolled it up into a wad.

Then I stuffed it into my mouth. Stuffed is the right word. I had practiced with the cloth at 
home and knew that it was about the largest wad I could fit into my mouth. I stuffed it in with 
my fingers, forcing all I could behind my teeth. When finished, I could barely close my lips 
over it. I used the duct tape next, one relatively short length to seal my lips from ear to ear. I 
cut four additional lengths of duct tape, about twelve inches long each, and stuck them to the
pipe fence. Then I gathered my hair into a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band so it was
all on top of my head. I then took the roll of duct tape and began wrapping it around my 
head over my lips. It was wide enough to cover from my nose all the way down to my chin. I 
wrapped turn after turn of it, pulled each as tightly as I could.

When the roll was finally used up, my lips were sealed.

Oh, boy, were they sealed! There was no way I could force out that wad of cloth. I was 
pretty sure that just the tape would have made a good gag, but now the only sounds I could 
make were those through my nose. It would be a little unpleasant when it came time to pull 
that tape off the back of my head. Some hair would probably come with it, but who said a 
slavegirl’s lot was an easy one?

I removed the rubber band and let my hair down. Anyone looking at me from the front 
would see easily that I was gagged, but from the side or back my long hair would hide my 
silencer.

Next came the most painful part. I had brought four clothespins with me, but only planed 
to use two. There were the wooden kind, with strong steel springs in the middle. You can 
probably guess now why I had put the gag in my mouth first. I held my left breast firmly in 
one hand and closed the clothespin over the defenseless nipple. Then I cried out in pain.

That thing hurt worse than I thought it could possibly. I hadn’t tested them at home and 
assumed that wooden clothespins would hurt, but not terribly so. I was wrong. The wooden 
jaws crushing my poor little tittie hurt far more than a girl should have to endure.

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as some of the things Martha had done to me, but it 
was pretty bad. It took a real effort of will not to tear the thing off.

To make sure that the clothespin would not come off, I took one of the short pieces of 
duct tape and placed it directly over my breast. The tape was long enough and wide enough 
to cover most of the clothespin and hold it pressed against my flesh. That did nothing to ease 
the pain it was causing in my nipple.

The second clothespin hurt even more than the first. Quickly I covered it with the tape so I 
could get on with this operation. I was going to show Gary that I could match him when it 
came to mistreating a slavegirl.

Sitting down on the towel, I took one pair of handcuffs and locked them about my ankles, 
clicking them down very tight. The solid metal clung to my ankles in its tight, relentless grip. I 
took a second pair and locked them on just above the first. My ankles were double locked. I 
knew that a single pair would have held me as securely, but two pair looked so much more 
solid. And I wanted to look good. I carefully laid out the other two pairs next to me. Then I 
took a package of itching powder and placed it next to the handcuffs.

From the purse I took out the last item, the letter I had written for Gary. Using the last two 
lengths of tape, I taped the letter to my chest, just below my breasts. I had written Gary’s 
name on the envelope so he would be sure to see it when he rolled me over.

Next came the chain and padlock. This was an important part of my plan. I laid down on 
my stomach with my head next to the metal post where it went into the concrete. And issued 
forth with a small scream into the gag as my weight came to rest on my clothespined and 
taped breasts. I had forgotten what laying on my stomach would do to my breasts. There 
might have been a towel under me but the ground under that towel was damned hard.

I looped one end of the chain around my neck, slid the padlock through the last link and 
the one that made it tightest around my neck, then held that with one hand while my other 
passed the rest of the chain around the metal pipe. I brought the other end of the chain up to 
the padlock and slipped the lock through it. Now was the moment of truth. Up to there I 
could have backed out. But once my neck was locked to the pipe I would be stuck there.

Quickly, before I had any second thoughts, I clicked padlock shut.

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach. I did not have the key for that padlock, and 
certainly couldn’t break the lock or chain with my bare hands. And the pipe post was caped 
with other pipes going off to the left and right. There was no way I could pass the chain up 
and off the post. I was a prisoner.

There was nothing to do but carry out the rest of the plan. I rolled on my side, hurting my 
poor titties, and reached for the itching powder. Tearing it open, I spread my legs as much as I
could and opened my sex with the fingers of one hand. The other hand held the package of 
itching powder. I tossed the contents into my pussy.

I know that much of it fell on the towel or clung to my pubic hair. But enough got inside 
the opening to my sex for what I had in mind. Not, mind you, that I really knew what I was 
doing. It was just that I saw the packages of itching powder in the magic store and had a wild 
idea that it would be a wonderful way to add a little torment to a helpless slavegirl.

After what happened to me that night, I don’t advise you ever try it yourself.

Because I didn’t know what I was doing, I took some of the powder and smeared it under 
my labia. Only one thing left to do and my plan would then be in full operation.

I took one pair of handcuffs from the couple left on the towel and locked one cuff around 
my right arm, just above the elbow. I pushed it closed until it was very snug on my arm.

Then I locked one cuff of the other pair around my right wrist. Ignoring the sharp pains in 
my poor nipples, I rolled back over on to my stomach and brought my arms up behind me.

This would be the tricky part but I was pretty sure I could do it. I reached up with my left 
hand and felt around for the handcuff attached to my right elbow. I opened the cuff and put it
as close to my left elbow as possible. Then I worked my right hand up, being as careful as 
possible not to move my elbows any more apart than they already were.

It was not easy working up behind my back while laying on my stomach. I could just reach 
the cuff with my fingers but could not get it around my left arm. After many frustrating 
minutes, I knew I was going to have to try something else. It had been my intent to have my 
arms locked behind me with handcuffs at the wrists and above the elbows. Very secure and 
nice looking. I could still lock my wrists together easily, but it looked like I was going to have 
to forget about the elbows.

One last idea occurred to me. I held the free cuff with the fingers of my right hand and 
rolled over on my right side. That put my right arm up against the ground and made it a lot 
easier for me to pull my left arm down. By straining, I just managed to fit the curved bar of the
cuff over my arm. Then I jerked my elbows towards each other and closed the cuff. It was 
secured! I rolled over on my left side and used my weight to click the cuff tighter shut.

When I rolled back onto my stomach, my elbows were as securely locked together as if 
Gary had done it himself. I worked the other cuff around my left wrist and clicked it shut, 
securing my wrists.

I took in a deep breath through my nose. It was done. Now all that remained of my plan 
was for Gary to find me laying here, totally helpless in chains and handcuffs, and tormented by
clothespins I could not get off and itching powder spread in my most sensitive place.

Of course that was not really all, I still had one little trick up my sleeve. I know, no sleeves 
in that outfit, but you know what I mean.

There was still light in the clearing and I guessed it was about 7:00 p.m., giving me an hour
until I would be found. Then the doubts began to creep in. Gary would find me, wouldn’t he? I
mean, the directions were pretty good. And only he could follow them. He wouldn’t stand me 
up, would he? He wouldn’t dare. He had to know that I would be in some kind of bondage. He
knew that I had climbed the path with my hands locked behind me before, why wouldn’t I set 
up some kind of restraints this time, and that they would be something I couldn’t possibly get 
out of.

But not being completely stupid, I had left a note for George, telling him where he could 
find me. But I also told him to check only after eight o’clock the next morning. I figured if I 
guessed wrong and Gary didn’t come for me, I would just have to spend a very uncomfortable
night but would be rescued eventually.

The worst part was the pain in my breasts. It was a burning feeling, along with a sharp 
pain. Slowly it turned into a very large ache that penetrated into my breasts. I considered 
trying to rub the tape off and then the clothespins. The ground was hard, but it might be 
possible. I decided that I might well do that, but not for a while. I’d give Gary a chance to see 
what I had done and take the tape off himself.

It grew darker and my pussy began to itch. Now that sounds pretty simple, just a part of 
the body itching. Normal, everyday occurrence. Just scratch it and the itch will go away.

But I couldn’t reach my pussy, and even if I had been able to, I don’t think the itch would 
have gone away. I don’t know what’s in that itching powder, but it’s strong, I can tell you that. 
It took a little while to begin working but when it kicked in, it really kicked in!

I found that rubbing my pussy against the towel-didn’t help. Rolling on my side and 
bending my hips to sort of pump my legs didn’t help. In fact, I think that any kind of 
movement only made it worse. Gosh, I really longed to reach around and scratch my pussy. 
Really bad, I did. But I couldn’t, having been so clever with the handcuffs and chains.

For a long time I lay on my stomach, pushing my hips against the ground in a vain attempt
to apply pressure on my pussy. I fear I was whining and moaning some. The whining came 
from the terrible frustration generated by my inability to stop the itching and burning of my 
pussy. The moaning came from the sharp pains generated by the clothespins on my nipples 
every time I moved the slightest bit.

I kept looking up to the sky, watching the stars coming out. Those stars meant that time 
was moving on, and only time moving on would get me closer to freedom. I was certain it was
well after 8:00 and wished I had a watch to check. Time seemed to crawl, stretch out, and 
torment me. Where the hell was he? Why didn’t he come?

I suspected that Gary was deliberately being late just to make me suffer. Hadn’t he left me 
handcuffed to the post in the Milton place patio for almost a whole day? Just to make me 
suffer.

I guess slavegirls simply have to suffer. It’s either because they deserve punishment, or 
their masters wish it, or, as in my case, because they’re stupid creatures who bring it upon 
themselves.

Gary came. I don’t know what time it was but it had to be far, far after 8:00 p.m.. Through 
the haze of anguish and frustration, I heard footsteps. At first all I could see was a flashlight 
approaching and whined as loudly as I could to let whoever it was know that here was a girl 
suffering.

“Well, well,” came the familiar and most welcome voice. Gary! “My little slavegirl has gotten
herself into quite a fix. Let’s see….” He knelt down beside me. “Handcuffs on the wrists and 
elbows. Good and tight.” He shook them to check. ‘Two pair on the ankles.

Good. And a chain and padlock on the neck. Good tape gag. I assume you have 
something in your mouth?” I nodded and pleaded with my eyes for him to hurry. “And you 
must be terrible horny to judge from the way you were banging your hips against the ground.
Looks like a very bothered girl, it does.

“And what’s this?” He rolled me on my side and examined the tape over my breasts and 
holding his letter to me. He felt the lump under the tape with his fingers and noted the way I 
gasp at his touch. “Clothespins! Very nice. And what’s this?” He pulled the tape and letter off. I 
gasped again. That tape really sticks!

He opened the letter and read it by light from his flash. He didn’t read it aloud but I knew 
what it said by heart:

Dear Master, I hope you enjoy the way your little slavegirl has fixed herself for you. There 
are clothespins on her nipples and itching powder in her pussy. You probably have keys for 
the handcuffs, but not for the padlock on her neck chain. That key is on the bar in the lounge 
of the Milton place.

Please leave this humble slavegirl secured like this while you get the key to unlock her 
neck. And for as long after that as you wish.

Humbly, Slave Darlene

I thought it was a pretty nice note. Nice touch using the third person to refer to me. Your 
little slavegirl, indeed! Of course, at that point I was wishing that I hadn’t asked to be left like 
this while he went to get the key. The handcuffs weren’t too bad but the clothespins and 
itching powder were horrible.

“You know that it will take at least an hour to drive there and back?” he asked.

I nodded. I knew. “Well, then perhaps I will wander over that way,” he said as he stood up.

I began whining loudly as I could through my nose. I was begging with him to not leave 
me exactly as he had found me. “My little slavegirl seem somewhat distressed. I wonder why?”

My shaking of my head caused me to roll back over on my stomach. But I turned my head 
and kept up a pleading sound. I pointed my fingers towards my bottom, hoping he would get 
the idea that my pussy was on fire and itching something terrible enough to drive a girl crazy.

“I don’t understand it,” he continued calmly. “She fixed herself up like this but doesn’t 
seem to like it. Most strange.” He sounded puzzled. I wanted to scream. “Well, I would never 
think of disobeying the orders in her note. I’ll get the key for this chain.” He began walking 
away. I could see the flashlight circle swinging back and forth on the ground. “But I might stop
at Michael’s for a quick beer on the way. Won’t take more than a couple hours….”

I debated screaming. Actually, I had no idea how effective screaming would be with that 
huge wad of cloth in my mouth. I tried calling out but the noises I could make weren’t very 
loud. And they were ignored. I sighed and resigned myself to at least an hour more of 
suffering. I deserved it and was paying the price.

I don’t know if it was an hour or twice that before Gary returned with the key for that 
padlock. I do know that continual, intense itching can drive a woman crazy. I must have been 
very close to going over the edge when he showed up again. Another half hour and I would 
have been a raving lunatic.

If you don’t believe me, try it. Set up exactly what I did and see if you enjoy burning, 
pained nipples and itching so intense that you want to scream. If you’re a girl, you’ll see. If 
you’re a man … Well, I don’t know. Maybe there is some way a man can simulate what I went 
through, maybe not. Anyway, please believe me that it’s torture.

Gary unlocked the padlock and removed the chain from around my neck. I looked up at 
him with pleading eyes and promised anything if he would only save me from myself. Of 
course that is what I would had said had I the ability to speak. I think the idea got across 
anyway. He picked me up and carried me to his van where he placed me on the floor.

Then he closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat.

What! I wanted to scream. Why is he leaving me chained up when I’m so obviously 
suffering? And where is be taking me?

I got as comfortable as I could on my side and endured a trip that was probably only 
fifteen minutes but seemed like a couple days. When we stopped, he opened the door and 
picked me up again. A short walk brought us to a swimming pool I had never seen before.

It certainly wasn’t mine. He set me down on the edge of the diving board. Then he worked
at one end of the tape across my left breast to get a hold of it. He pulled the tape off slowly. 
The clothespin stuck to the tape and tried to go with it. He opened the clothespin and jerked 
the rest of the tape off.

Just as I was going to sigh a big sigh of relief, my poor tittie burst into fresh pain, 
screaming with agony at returning circulation. It burned and throbbed with pain. I hardly 
noticed when he removed the other one, until, that is, it also was suddenly hurting like crazy.

I shook my head and body and stamped my bare feet on the concrete. Meantime, Gary 
was methodically unlocking the handcuffs from my ankles. Then he helped me to my feet.

I immediately shoved my pussy up against his leg and clamped my legs around his. I must 
have looked like I was pumping away in a frenzy of sex, the way I was banging my pussy 
against his leg, but it was not sexually frenzy well, not entirely. My pussy was still itching 
terribly.

Pushing me away from him with strong arms, he guided me over to the other end of the 
pool and pushed me in. I gasped in surprise as I felt backwards into the water.

My arms were still locked firmly behind me with those handcuffs, and the gag still 
prevented me from talking. The water closed over me and I struggled wildly. Then I felt my 
foot hit the bottom and realized that the water was no more than three feet deep. I rotated 
until my feet were under me and stood up.

Gary was removing his pants and shirt. When he was as naked as I, he came in with me. I 
pushed up against his wonderful body, rubbing my breasts against his chest in an invitation to
use me as he willed. Well, actually, it was more of a demand than an invitation.

With one hand firmly holding the handcuffs linking my elbows to control me, he slid his 
other hand down between my legs and began massaging me. It was wonderful. The more he 
massaged my flesh the less it itched. And the hotter I became. Pretty soon the itching was a 
thing of the past and all I could think of was getting him to shove what wonderful and very 
erect cock into me.

I guess he waited until he was sure all the itching powder was gone, then he lifted me a bit
and brought me down on his rod, impaling me right there in the water. Oh, lordy, did it feel 
good! Immediately I was flexing up and down on my toes to get it sliding inside me. He lifted 
me, tilted me back a bit, and then shoved it deeply inside me. I wrapped my legs around his 
hips and closed my eyes.

Have you ever made love in a swimming pool? I recommend it. Especially if your arms are 
solidly secured behind you and you’re gagged so well that you can’t speak a word. With his 
strong arms around my middle, he pumped, I squeezed my legs around him, and we both 
rushed towards a wonderful climax. It was wonderful and I am tripped out on the ecstasy.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Reward for a Good Slavegirl


Gary never did unlock my arms nor remove that cloth gag from my mouth. He set me on the 
edge of the pool after the lovemaking and joined me. For a long time we just sat there.

I really had nothing to say, even if I could have talked. Sometimes it’s good to just sit 
beside someone you love and be with him.

After a while he got out. I had to jump back in and walk to the steps to make my exit, it 
was just too hard to stand up from the edge with no hands. The area we were in was a nicely 
landscaped yard, the pool good sized and much of the surroundings lit with colored 
floodlights. I could see some of the house that went with it, only enough to tell that it was 
large and Spanish style. There were a couple of lights on the ground floor but all the upstairs 
windows were dark. I was excited at the thought that this was Gary’s house.

It turned out that my little trick with the itching powder had worked out well. Apparently 
the only way he could think to get the stuff out of me was to dunk me in a swimming pool. I 
was glad he hadn’t used my house and pool.

“You are a foolish little girl,” he said as he led me towards the rear of the garden. “What if I
hadn’t read the newspaper? What if I were out of town this week? How long would you have 
stayed locked to that pipe?”

I couldn’t reply and didn’t try to. Sometimes you just have to take the risk to get what you 
want.

“And I’ll bet you didn’t know what that itching powder would do to you.” He looked at me.
I sighed and shook my head to show he was right. “The clothespins probably hurt And I’d like 
you to show me how you got those handcuffs on your elbows sometime. You didn’t have 
someone help you, did you?”

I shook my head. I was proud of having done it myself.

“Well….” He stopped and looked me straight in the eye. “It was a nice job. And I’m very 
pleased with my little slavegirl.” My heart raced to hear that. “And … And I’m going to give her
a little reward.”

Oh, joy! I told myself. Whatever could it be! Was his cock ready to go again? I looked 
down at it. Yes, about half mast. But that wouldn’t take long to fix.

“Over here,” he said and guided me along with a firm hand on my arm. Over there was 
behind some bushes and up to a pillory. I couldn’t believe it. Shades of Martha’s house in the 
desert! Set in concrete, the wooden post was quite solidly looking, and the yoke boards solid. 
Not unexpectedly, he led me right up to it. I obediently placed my in the yoke he held open. 
He pulled my hair back so it wouldn’t get caught in the wood, then closed the solid oak about
my neck.

“Very nice,” he said from somewhere behind me. I hoped my still bound arms and the 
handcuffs would look nice for him. I didn’t have to bend over very much at the waist for the 
pillory was pretty high. Mostly just tilted my head and shoulders. I wondered what would 
come next and spread my legs a little wider in hopes that he might want to shove something 
up inside me. But he didn’t.

Instead he disappeared for a while. Was my reward to be standing in this pillory all night 
with my arms locked behind me? And that gag which was getting more and more 
uncomfortable. My jaw was aching from being forced open so long.

It wasn’t. My reward was to get my bottom whipped with a belt until it was burning with a 
heat that wasn’t totally from beaten flesh. Why does a girl get turned on when someone is 
beating her ass? I don’t know. All I know is that the more he beat my ass, the more it burned 
and hurt, and the more juicy my pussy became. I jerked each time the belt hit my bottom, but 
after the first couple tried to hold it back. My head was held by that wooden yoke and it hurt 
my neck each time I jerked.

When my bottom was hot enough to light a cigarette on, and probably glowing 
cherry-red, he finally stopped. I was sobbing on the other side of the pillory and feeling down 
with ginger fingers to see how much damage was done. All I found was sore flesh, tender to 
the touch.

Suddenly my arms were lifted by a strong hand. A second later a foot kicked the inside of 
my ankles in an order to spread my legs. I did even though that make my position in the 
pillory more awkward. Then I got what I wanted-fingers spread my labia and a stiff rod was 
placed at the entrance to my vagina. A good hard shove and it was inside me, and I was lifted 
up to my toes.

This coupling was slower than the others but still beautiful. The tender skin of my bottom 
cried out each time his body came in contact with it, but it was music for this captive girl.

There were times when I was almost lifted off my feet on the upstroke. My arms were 
resting over his shoulder, and one of his arms was around my hip and clamped firmly over my 
sex. The other one came across my chest and was clamped tightly over on breast. It felt so 
good each time he buried his rod deep inside me that I hoped it would last forever.

Nothing lasts forever. I could sense he was nearing his climax by the way he sped up his 
strokes. I let myself go and was soon swept away on a tide of passion. Pleasure mixed with 
pain in my flaming bottom in a most delightful way.

I think I cried aloud into the gag, but who cares. It was nice. Not as fantastic as some with 
him, but damn good, nevertheless.

Gary then took me home. Well, not to my house. He figured that I had a car somewhere 
near the place he had found me chained to the pipe, so he took my back there. He unlocked 
the handcuffs from my arms, and it was good to get those handcuffs off from above my 
elbows. He tied my wrists together behind me but rather loosely. Then he tied some rope 
around my waist and the pipe fence. Then he was gone.

It took me only five minutes to free myself from the moderately loose ropes. Then I was 
free to walk back to my car. It was only when I took my hidden key and opened my Corvette 
that I realized I was still naked and the gag was still in my mouth. I slide into the ‘vet, crying as 
my tender bottom hit the seat, and closed the door. I drove all the way home with the gag still
in place, and didn’t remove it until I got up to my bedroom. It hurt and I fear I lost some hair 
from the back of my neck. But it had done its job-I had been silenced all night.

I took a quick shower and fell asleep on my bed, ignoring the burn from a tender bottom. I
slept very well that night, and awoke with fading dreams of tight ropes and burning bottom.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Danger!


The next day was like so many others in Southern California, warm and sunny with a gentle 
sea breeze cooling the land during the afternoon. It was most pleasant to sit out by the pool, 
soaking up the sun and feeling content. I had worked myself into another visit with Gary, even
been to his house. Well, at least the pool area. I now knew that he lived no more than a half 
hour’s drive from my place, and that it wasn’t far from the ocean. I could tell by the sea salt 
tang in the air the night before, as he was loading me into his van. The fact that I was gagged, 
still had my arms locked behind my back by the handcuffs I had put on myself, and could see 
nothing of the drive from my place on the floor was not important. What was important was 
that Gary was touching me, had made love to me (more than once!), and was that much closer
to becoming my man.

Yes, I know, I should say my Master. Does that make you happier? My man sounds so 
possessive, doesn’t it? I was so happy right then that I would gladly have knelt at his feet and 
sworn eternal loyalty to him. And meant it.

So, I figured he was one step closer to becoming my full time master. All I had to do was 
figure the right things to do to make it come to pass. If he were poor, I’d buy him. The very 
rich can do it. You know, I’d buy the business he worked for. Or I’d purchase his love with 
expensive gifts, make him want to be around me.

But Gary Norton was not poor. The house I had glimpsed the night before was no 
bungalow, it was one of the mansions that dot the coast hereabouts. I didn’t know which one, 
but I knew an expensive house when I saw one.

I knew he liked to play with me. Every time I had put an ad in the newspaper, he showed 
up. That much was good. At least I had a way of contacting him.

So what to do next? Well, for one thing, a dip in the pool so the water would cool my 
swollen little pussy. I guessed that I overdid it a bit with the itching powder the night before. 
Or maybe that stuff isn’t made to be shoveled into a girl’s pussy in the first place.

But my poor little love box was all sore that day and I didn’t feel like having sex. One of the
few times I can remember ever having that feeling, I might add.

Deciding that I should get out more, I made plans for a good dinner at Rubio’s that night.

And who knows, I might just run into Gary! Well, it’s possible. The man has to eat, you 
know.

Rubio’s was half filled when I arrived, and it was easy to get a booth in the back. Usually I 
preferred a table by the window with its beautiful view out over the Pacific, but that night I felt
like a little privacy. Besides, I could watch most of the room from that booth. If Gary entered, 
I’d probably see him.

Dinner was fine, as usual. While waiting for desert, I found my hands constantly going 
down to the hem of the short dress I wore and tugging at it. A part of my mind wanted to pull
that dress up, exposing for all to see the fact that I wore no panties. The lack of bra was 
already apparent, but evoked no scandal as that was commonplace among the Beautiful 
People. But the lack of panties might rise a few eyebrows. And a few penises, I mused. If those 
poor males out there only knew….

Gary walked in while I was debating whether to actually pull my dress up around my hips.

There was, after all, the darkness in the booth and a table cloth hanging down. It took me 
a moment to realize it was him.

Then my delight turned to ashes. There was the most beautiful blonde in the world was 
hanging on his arm as they crossed the floor towards a booth on the other side. My mouth 
hung open, she was that beautiful! A body like a Greek Goddess-no, better than that. The way 
she moved was liquid sex. I could almost hear the pulse rate jump on every man in the place 
and most of the women. Those lovely, long legs … That pair of breasts half uncovered by that 
emerald green dress. That dress! I had a duplicate to it at home! Gary must have a dozen in 
his closet to give to girls he takes to dinner.

I looked for rope marks on her wrists and ankles but couldn’t see any. That didn’t mean 
that he hadn’t been playing with here before they came here. A tiny part of my mind was 
whispering that I would love to tie up that gorgeous female body for my own playtime, while 
the rest of my mind was hollering, “Foul!” No wonder he wasn’t interested in telling me where 
he lived or his phone number. With something like that at home, he had all a man could want.
I was just a little variety to spice up his life.

Then the thought hit me: was that his wife? Could be. The thought of him having that 
lovely creature as a mate depressed me something terrible. I couldn’t see well enough to see if
she wore a ring, but I could see the adoring look in her eyes and the way she gently touched 
his hand.

I gulped loudly, threw some money on the table, and got out of there. I was very sorry that
I had come to Rubio’s looking for Gary. I would have been even sorrier had I seen the figure 
who got up right after me and followed me out.

I slammed the door to my ‘vette and left the parking lot with a squeal of tires and a 
shower of rocks and dirt all over the white Mercedes Benz behind me. I was feeling terrible, 
sort of mad but mostly sick inside. A lot of dreams were crashing down around me and it 
wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

I hadn’t planned it that way but found myself an hour later pulling into the driveway of the
Milton place. It was dark and suited my mood. I left the car and walked out to the patio.

There was the lounge where Gary had hung me upside down to whip my little bottom. 
And there was the post around which I had locked myself to please him. Shit!

I guessed that I could go on seeing him. An ad now and then in the newspaper, a place 
where he could find me all naked and ready to play Master/slave. But it wouldn’t be the same. 
I would know that I was only a pastime. Any girl, even a slavegirl, wants to know that her man 
loves her above all other women.

I was standing there, feeling very sorry for myself, wondering if it would hurt much to jump
off the cliff, and never heard the figure sneak up behind me. Suddenly there was a flash of 
light behind my eyes and that was all I remember.

Until much later. I came back to this world slowly, unwilling to face the terrible headache 
that was trying to split my head in two. When I became aware of my surroundings I found 
myself laying on something hard. And my arms hurt, not nearly as much as my head, but 
enough. It was a pain familiar to me-the feel of thin cords biting into my arms. They were 
bound behind me, elbows very tightly together and wrists pretty tight, too. I could feel my 
legs tied, also. With regrets, I opened one eye.

I was on the bar in the lounge. That was the hard surface pressing into my breasts. I was 
bound by an expert and knew that I couldn’t work those ropes off, just from the feeling of 
them.

I opened the other eye and moaned as my head told me it was planning to burst any 
second.

“Well, the little tart is awake,” came a voice from behind me.

Martha! I knew that rasping, terrible voice. It had gloated enough over my suffering while I
was her guest. I didn’t turn my head around to see her, it would have hurt too much, so she 
came around in front of me.

“It was very nice of you to come up to this deserted house,” she purred like a contented 
cat. “That made capturing you so much easier.

“So you’ve got me,” I said. “What are you going to do now? Drag me back to that desert 
house of yours for some more torture?”

“Oh, not that.” She grinned, and I didn’t like that. “You’ve caused me so much pain,” she 
continued. “And I intend to make you pay for it.”

I caused her pain? I wanted to laughed but my head would have hurt too much. “I only 
escaped,” I tried to explain. “Any slave has the right….”

“Shit!” she cut me off. “Slaves have no rights. But you corrupted my son! That’s what you 
did. You made him release you and even drive you back here. You used your feminine wiles to 
entrance him and turn him against his own mother. And after I was training you to be the 
perfect slavegirl for him.”

“Your son can get his own girls….” My response was cut short by a ringing slap across the 
face. Normally that would have been unpleasant but with my head in the condition it was, it 
nearly caused me to black out. I saw stars. Always through that was only an expression but 
when you get hit along side the head hard enough, you do see little sparkles of light.

As I was recovering, Martha was maneuvering my bound up body so I was on my feet.

Then she carried me over to a wall and set me against it. It wasn’t too easy to keep my 
balance but I really didn’t want to fall over. She disappeared for a minute and when she came 
back she was carrying a two foot long piece of four by four wood. That she set down on the 
floor. Then she pulled a bar stool over and lifted me to a sitting position on the stool. It was 
surprisingly how strong she was, because I’m not real light. Once she had me sitting on the 
stool, she disappeared again. I might have made it as far as the door had I tried to escape, but
with bound legs and no hands, there wasn’t much purpose in it.

Martha returned with a length of stout rope about twice as thick as what was normally 
used to bind me. Fascinated, I watched as she fashioned the end into a loop and wrapped 
coils of rope around itself. Suddenly there was a hangman’s noose in her hands and I had a 
terrible feeling inside.

“Mistress,” I remembered to call her that, “what are you doing?” I asked as she slipped the 
noose over my neck. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” she said with glee. “Deadly serious, you might say.” She seemed to be 
enjoying herself. “Now if you’ll just stand here.”

The heavy rope had been tossed over the beam directly overhead and was held in her 
hand, tightly enough to help control me. The place she wanted me to stand was upon the 
upturned four by four. I didn’t want to but the noose was rather tight about my neck and it 
was fairly easy for her to control me with my arms and legs bound as they were. Before I knew 
what was happening, she had me standing on the block of wood, balancing on bound feet, 
with my neck tied up to the beam. She tied the other end of the noose rope behind the bar. I 
knew it was strong there, Gary had used the same support to hang me upside down.

I suspect I was looking pretty worried right then. The idea kept flashing through my mind 
that she was only trying to scare me. She really wouldn’t hang me by the neck until dead.

Would she? All it would take was one good kick on the wooden block and all my support 
would be gone.

“No slave has every escaped from my house,” Martha hissed. “No one shall. You’ll pay the 
price for your treachery.”

My treachery? She must have meant the wily way I entranced her son into turning against 
her.

“I’m going to leave now,” she said dramatically as she took a backwards step towards the 
door. “You’ll be all alone. I wonder how long you’ll be able to keep your balance. An hour?

Two hours? Even the whole night, perhaps. But eventually….” She laughed. “Eventually 
you’ll fall asleep or start to tremble so badly that you’ll fall. You can’t balance up there 
forever.”

I gulped. Maybe she was serious. “Good-bye,” she called out from the door. “Parting is 
such sweet sorrow….”

It’s bad enough when a crazy bitch is going to kill you, but then to have her misquote 
Shakespeare was too much. But she was out the door and gone before I could think of a thing
to say.

Looking around the lounge, I saw nothing very encouraging. There was a candle flickering 
on the bar, the wooden block beneath me, and that horrible rope already tight around my 
neck. In perhaps half an hour the candle would burn down to nothing and I’d be in the dark 
for the rest of the night. Not that light really helped me much.

I turned to trying to free myself, at the same time trying not to fall from the block. I had to 
make all motions slowly, least a jerk upset the delicate balance. The top of the block was only 
big enough for the balls of my feet and even then part hung over the sides. It would have 
been much easier had the block been big enough to set my whole foot flat down, but such 
kindness was not in Martha’s plans. She wanted me to fall, wanted me to hang, wanted me to 
die.

The ropes were tight as hell, thin cord, and expertly tied. I could find no knots, nor a loose 
loop. I began to wonder how long it took a person to strangle once they were hanging.

There was a noise outside and I jerked my head up. Martha coming back? No, no one 
came through the open sliding glass door. But I was sure I had heard something. Then a 
scream. An actual scream, not of pain but of anger or rage. Sounded like a woman.

Martha?

What was happening, I desperately asked the cool night air. Was someone coming to 
rescue me? But who? Maybe, I thought with a wry and macabre sense of humor, Martha just 
stubbed her toe on a brick and was shouting in anger.

Then there was footsteps and suddenly a dark shape ran across the patio. A second later 
Martha burst into the lounge, a wild, angry look on her face, her features twisted into a 
grimace of pure hate. I noticed as she headed towards me that there was a trickle of blood at 
the corner of her mouth.

Then several things happened at once and very fast. Martha reached me and kicked the 
block out from under my feet. Her evil grin filled my vision as I began to fall and the rope 
tightened rapidly around my neck. Like a strong pair of hands, the rope squeezed my neck. Air
was suddenly impossible to suck in.

In the background I saw another shape darting across the patio, and then Gary burst into 
the room. His face was also set in an angry snarl as his eyes took in the scene lit only by 
flickering candle light. In three quick steps he was across the room. Martha’s leg flashed out 
and up in a kick that would have impact upon his jaw with a great deal of force had he not 
jerked his head aside. His hand lashed out, the fingers curled in but in a fist. With one leg in 
the air, there was little Martha could do to avoid the punch. It connected solidly below her 
chin, on the front of her neck. As the edge of my vision began to turn gray, I saw her collapse 
into a heap.

There was also Gary, turning back from his now-vanquished foe. His strong arm wrapped 
around my legs and lifted. That took the weight off the rope but the hangman’s noose did not
loosen. I guess they’re designed that way. I still couldn’t breath, and was making some 
horrible but not very loud sounds. The last thing I remember was Gary letting go of my legs 
and his hand going for his pocket. All was dimly seen after that as blackness engulfed me. My 
last thought as I watched with an astonishing lack of interest as Gary jumped high in front of 
me, was to thank him for having tried to save me.

Boy, did my head hurt when I woke up. I was still laying on the floor, my body still naked 
and tightly bound up. But I was in Gary’s arms and the hangman’s noose was laying on the 
floor, cut in several places. His pocket knife, apparently a very sharp one, lay on the floor next 
to the pieces of rope. I guessed that I must have been out for only part of a minute. It was so 
good to be able to breath. But did I have a headache!

After making sure that I was breathing and okay, Gary lay me on the floor and went to 
Martha. A few seconds later he was back to me, beginning to untie the ropes holding my arms
behind me. “She’s dead,” he said. “It was not my intent, but that punch sometimes kills. It is 
meant to disable an opponent. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I crocked. My voice wasn’t quite right. “She was trying to kill me. I’m 
glad she’s dead.”

When I was totally free of ropes, Gary took me in his arms and held me until my shaking 
and sobbing calmed down enough for us to talk again.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked in a voice sounding more like mine.

“We could simply tell the truth to the police,” he said. “But that would require a lot of 
explaining.” I could only agree with that. Trying to explain why one respected citizen of the 
community was trying to hang another one would not be easy.

“Or….” He looked out at the patio and the ocean beyond. “Or we could put her in her car, 
and drive it over the cliff. It will look like she was killed by the crash. There’s a place very near 
here were there is a sharp curve right next to the cliff. Cars have gone over there before.”

I looked at the inert form of the woman who had wanted to kill me and shuttered. “Good 
riddance,” I said. Then, turning to Gary, “But how did you know what she was doing? I left you 
in Rubio’s with … With that blonde.”

Gary smiled slightly. He had detected by jealousy about the gorgeous blonde. “I saw 
Martha get up and leave the restaurant right after you did. It seemed more than coincidence 
that she would be leaving the same restaurant right after you did. After what she had done to 
you, I figured she was up to something. So I followed her. I guess she was following you, 
looking for a chance to kidnap you again.”

“Couldn’t you have followed her a little closer? I mean, she left me standing there a 
fraction of an inch from strangling myself.”

“I thought it better to keep out of sight. I parked around the comer and snuck in. When I 
came up, she was leaving and I could just see you through the door. Since you were standing 
there in no immediate danger, I tried to stop Martha. She can hit rather strong for a woman.”

It was then that I noticed a bruise turning his jaw black and blue. I figured she got in a 
good hit or two before he connected back.

“She knocked me down, and then ran in here. I followed as fast as I could.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested. Gary showed me where his van was and I sat in it while
he carried Martha out of the house and into her car. I saw it drive by. A few minutes later there
was a sound like a muffled crunch. Gary came walking back after that and we drove off, 
neither of us saying a word.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN - A Happy Ending


Gary Norton dropped me off at my house. “Would you like to come in,” I asked. But he shook 
his head.

“I have Monique waiting back at the restaurant. My meal’s probably cold by now.” He took
my head in his hands and gently kissed me. “I’ll be in touch.”

I don’t think that the old house ever seemed so huge or empty as that night. I went to bed
with in a depressed mood. I was certainly glad that Gary had rescued me, but that didn’t alter 
the fact that I now knew he already had a woman.

The next morning I watched the rescue crews pulling up Martha’s car up the cliff on the 
TV. It was as Gary had suggested, everyone assumed it was just another accident at a 
dangerous corner. The news editor made a pitch for a better safety railing so this wouldn’t 
happen again. There was even a scene of a teary-eyed Marvin telling reporters that he didn’t 
want to talk about it right then. I knew Marvin fairly well, and he looked shattered.

But I was sure the huge amount of money he now came into would comfort him. And 
there was that house out in the desert.

He’d find something to do with it, and that would probably involve a naked girl or two and
a lot of ropes. Marvin was now a millionaire many times over and that always attracts girl.

And if he couldn’t attract one, he could always have one kidnapped for him. His mother 
had it done for her, he had told me, surely he could figure out how she did it.

And maybe I would try to help Marvin cope with what had to be a major trama to him. I 
owed him something for saving me from his mother the first time.

The news ended and some stupid talk show host was introducing three people who had all
been abducted by UFO’s to his studio audience. I turned the set off. Then the phone rang.

“How are you doing?” It was Gary and my heart skipped a beat. It was good to hear his 
voice, and my illogical mind must have still held out some hope for us.

“I’m fine. You saw the TV?”

“Yes. I don’t think there will be any questions asked.”

“Good.”

“Darlene,” he began in a different tone, “I think a few things should be straightened out.

Would you like to come over this afternoon? About two?”

I said that I would and he gave me the address. I was a mixture of emotions as I hung up 
phone. The logical thing to do would have been to ask him why he wanted to see me, but 
little slavegirls don’t go around questioning their masters. At least those who would like to 
hope for a few hours longer don’t.

I showed up exactly at two o’clock. His house wasn’t far from mine, and, as I that thought, 
was one of the fine old houses in the most expensive section of the coast. I left my ‘vette in 
the big circular driveway and was greeted at the door by Gary.

“I should explain something,” he said as we walked along the cool, tiled hallway. “That girl 
you saw me with at the restaurant….”

“I don’t suppose she was your sister?” I said hopefully.

“No. Not my sister. But not my wife, either. In case you were thinking that.”

He opened a door for me and we entered a library. He waved me to a comfortable looking
chair and went to a cabinet surrounded by book shelves. “Actually, Monique has been my 
slavegirl for two years now.” Casually he opened the cabinet.

Monique was a slavegirl, all right. The cabinet must have been made for dramatic 
unvailings such as this, because it was just big enough to fit the girl standing there. And she 
was even more beautiful naked than she had been in that emerald dress the night before. She 
didn’t step forward to greet me because she couldn’t. Several hundred feet of rope held her in
a tight embrace and totally immobile. From the way her shoulders were pulled back, I knew 
that her arms were bound behind her with the elbows together. Ropes above and below her 
breasts helped accent them. In addition to all the ropes tightly holding her prisoner, there 
were wide leather straps holding her to the back of the cabinet.

As I scanned up her naked body, I counted the straps holding her. There was one at the 
ankles, another just above the knees. A very tight one at her waist. Another around her chest 
just below the breasts. And another one around her neck. That made five.

Monique wasn’t going anywhere. Nor was she going to greet me for her mouth was 
covered by a wide black leather strap. From the lower part of her chin, I guessed that 
something was filling her mouth and preventing speech.

All in all it was a good job. “She’s been there since early this morning,” Gary said casually.

“She’s used to being in the cabinet. Sometimes she spends half the day there, when I want 
her out of sight. And sometimes she’s in there while I’m entertaining guest in here.

It’s sound proof, of course, and supplied with fresh air.”

“That’s very nice,” I said with perhaps a touch of ice. “But why show me? So you’ve got a 
full time slavegirl already.” My lower lip was almost trembling.

For a few seconds he didn’t answer. Then he looked at Monique. She blinked three times 
quickly. A signal?

“It’s true that I already have a full time slavegirl. Monique is almost constantly in restraints, 
is punished when she need it, or when I feel like it, and….” He paused to look back at me 
again. “We have sex whenever I feel like it.”

Couldn’t get the facts out on the table better than that.

“When I first met you, I didn’t bring you back here because I wasn’t sure how you’d take 
the fact that I already had a slavegirl living with me. I wasn’t sure just how much you would 
understand about a girl wanting to be a slavegirl. Now I’m sure that you do understand.”

He paused to go over and kiss Monique gently on the cheek. My heart sank. Then he 
turned to me. “Would you like to become a full time slavegirl, too?” he asked.

I looked at him in disbelief. I had thought that he was showing me this beautifully bound 
up slave to explain why he couldn’t see me more than once in a while. Then I looked at 
Monique. Only her eyes showed, but I think they were honestly asking me to say yes. I stood 
up.

What happened them wasn’t planned. As if having a mind of their own, my hands 
unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it off. Then the skirt was unzipped and tossed aside. I was 
standing there, completely naked, and could not have told you why I had done that.

And I knew I wasn’t as good looking as Monique. I was very good, don’t ever doubt that, 
but she was better. Still, I found myself feeling more attraction to that perfect body than 
jealousy. I slowly walked over to her. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach, but I kissed her 
over her gagged lips. Then I kissed each erect nipple before stepping back, flicking each with 
my tongue as I pulled away. I heard her tiny gasp each time and saw the glow in her eyes. 
There would be much love and mischief between us, I could sense. And it would be exciting.

“I want to be your slavegirl, Master,” I said, turning back to him. And I meant it. No 
question about that. The next part was harder. “I’m willing to be your second slavegirl, behind 
Monique.”

Gary cupped my chin in one hand and kissed me gently. When he pulled back, I saw a 
length of rope in his hands. Where it had come from I did not know but that didn’t matter. I 
turned around and put my arms together behind me, pulling my elbows in until they touched.
I felt the delicious bite of the rope and shivered all over with happiness.

“You are both slavegirls,” Gary said as he bound my arms. “I own both of you. Totally and 
completely. I will be strict and neither of you will free of restraints save on rare occasions. I will
punish you when I feel like, whether you deserve it or not.” He jerked the ropes tight on my 
elbows. “But I will be fair and do nothing to harm you. You’ll both taste pain often,”

he added needlessly. “But nothing you can’thandle.”

He finished knotting the rope at my wrists. “And if I ever hear either one of you talking 
about which one I love more, I’ll whip her ass until she can’t sit down for a week.

Understand?”

I understood exactly what he was saying and felt joy filling my body. If ever there was a 
master who could handle two beautiful slavegirls, Gary was that man. Again without thinking 
about it, I sank to my knees and buried my face in the front of his pants. I frantically worked 
my mouth and tongue at his fly, also licking his rod through the pants.

With a laugh, he stepped back and unzipped his pants. As I enveloped his shaft with my 
mouth, I was very happy. I also heard him promise that I would be punished that night for the 
crime of “over eagerness,” but that only made me happy, too.


The End
