Thus the practicalities.
Quaintly, Drusilla was not the Room’s first victim. “There’s no use sitting out a period or setting a date.”
Diana sipped her after-dinner coffee and gazed with approval upon a sleek Drusilla. “We didn’t wear black. No one does anymore. What’s bothering us is a—well—a sort of feeling of infidelity.”
Drusilla nodded. “We need an icebreaker.”
“I suppose we could get drunk,” Diana mused cheerfully. “But we don’t want to approach it like that. One of our troubles is a fear of anticlimax... But I’m ravenous for you. I want to talk about our pussies and the cane and the handcuffs... ”
“I’ve been going easy on account of Ginny.”
“Ginny’s no problem. The darling’s an asset, not a liability. She’s recovered from the funeral. After all, it’s over a month... !”
“Darling, I’ve left it to you. I’m really a novice.”
“With those marks you had. on your back! You’ve still got a few... ! That’s initiation enough.”
“Yes. But you know—well, you know what I am.”
“You’re a gorgeous submissive.”
“I’ll accept the role,” Drusilla agreed demurely. “But that leaves the ball always in your court.”
“That’s O.K. for now,” Diana glowed. “I’m a gourmet and you’re exquisitely edible. Go upstairs and strip. Let’s get back where we were.”
Drusilla was half out of her chair when she remembered.
“What about Ginny?”
Diana laughed delightedly. “Ginny’s downstairs.”
“You mean—the Room?”
“The Room, Dru’. Hurry.”
Drusilla leaped for the stairs.
It felt so good. It was reality. Drusilla examined her nakedness in the mirror and found it good. She guessed what awaited her. When she approached the waiting Diana she sank gracefully to her knees, head bowed. “From now on I’m going to call you Mistress,” she said softly. “I want to. I’ve always wanted to.”
“Hold our your hands, witch.”
The handcuffs slipped on to the eager wrists. It was a coming home. The clicks were music as the steel tightened. “Don’t ever let me loose, Di’. Not ever.”
“Silly. I’ll want to take you around sometimes and show you off. Come along now.”
A nude Ginny was pressed against the bars of the cell.
Her face lit up at sight of visitors. “Oh, Mumsie, you’ve left me here the longest time. Hello, Mrs. Hammill, isn’t this place a gas?”
The child was enchanting. As unselfconscious as a statue. Her acceptance of Drusilla’s condition was without affectation.
“Why are her hands behind her back, Di’?”
Ginny answered the query by turning round and wiggling a pair of handcuffed hands. “It’s so I can’t play with myself, Mrs. Hammill,” she said brightly. “Isn’t Mummy mean?”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Diana admitted. “But she needs restraint. She’s altogether too exuberant.”
“Don’t ever get put in this cell, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny advised without visible dolour. “It’s awful. You can walk around and sit down and stand up but you can’t go anywhere. I’m frustrated to death. There’s absolutely nothing to do. I’ve been locked in here for ages and ages.”
“Six hours, poppet.”
“Well, it seems like ages. Please, Mummy, can I come out now?”
Without answering, Diana unlocked the door. Without knowing quite how it happened, Drusilla found herself inside with Ginny while the door clanged shut behind her back. The turning of the key was a thunderclap. When she swung round in laughing protest, Diana had gone.
“You should never trust Mummy, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny advised sagely. “But I expect you wanted to be handcuffed?”
“You’re here, Ginny. It’s not as bad as being alone.”
“Well, no. And you’re here, too. That makes two of us.
I’m so glad. I was getting awful lonely.” Ginny was a girl who always saw the bright side. “But are you sure you want to be locked up?”
“I didn’t have much to say about it, did I?”
“That’s because you let yourself be handcuffed. Did you take your clothes off yourself, Mrs. Hammill?”
“I’m afraid I’m guilty on both counts, dear.”
“You don’t have to blush, not with me, Mrs. Hammill. I know how lovely handcuffs are, and being tied, and being naked... Mostly I only get to wear clothes when I go out or there’s company.” .
Drusilla had come to adore the radiant child whose life was now interlocked with her own. She cupped the happy face between her linked hands and kissed the full red lips again and again. “Don’t call me Mrs. Hammill anymore, Ginny. You know my name. Use it any way you please.”
“Oh, may I?” Ginny was delighted. “May I call you Drew? Like it was spelt with four letters?”
“Of course,” Drusilla laughed and looked ruefully at the bars. “We’re two girls together, aren’t We?”
“Oh, Drew, you’re so sweet. I’ve loved you for so long. But when you were Mrs. Hammill and I was just Ginny... ! I do so long to eat you. You will let me, won’t you?”
Drusilla knew herself blushing now for sure. “Of course... ”
“I don’t suppose you’re all that much older than me,” Ginny conceded generously. “I’ve always thought you awfully young. And you’re so lovely!”
“I wish I were as young and lovely as you.”
“Oh, but you are! With me you are, Drew. With me you’re about nineteen. Not a day older. So don’t call me ‘dear’ anymore. Call me something else. I think ‘darling’s’ nicest.”
“It’s easy to call you that. It’s what you are.”
“Let’s sit on the cot, Drew,” Ginny giggled. “At night we’ll have to sleep on top of each other. Did Mummy tell you how long she’s going to keep us locked up?”
“No. You saw how I got pushed in here.” Drusilla considered possibilities. “But she’ll have to let us out for—”
“She doesn’t, y’know,” Ginny said soberly. “Watch this.”
Suppressing an urge to laugh, Drusilla now saw why the plumber’s bill had been so large. With teen agility, Ginny contrived to pull back the thin mattress on the cot that suddenly revealed itself as a cabinet. Dexterous handcuffed hands managed to fling back hinged segments. Beneath them reposed toilet, washbowl, taps and buttons. There were towels and paper...and a drinking cup... !
“She doesn’t have to let us out, not ever,” Ginny said triumphantly as she flipped things back into place with a nimble foot. “Mummy could keep us locked in here forever. Isn’t it scary!”
It was scary. Drusilla knew a flicker of fear. The bars were implacable. She could believe that, without Ginny’s radiance, she might be screaming for release. She realized a sudden sympathy for claustrophobics. “But your hands... behind your back, Ginny! You can’t—!”
“Yes, I can, Drew. I’ve tried. It’s messy and hurts my wrists but it’s amazing what a girl can do if she has to. I bet nobody’s put your hands behind your back yet?”
“No. It seems so helpless.”
“Well, it is if you’re trying to defend yourself or something. Mummy can handle me like I was a kitten when I’m like this,” the youngster grinned reassuringly. “But now you’re in here, and with your hands in front, everything’s easy. What I can’t do, you can.”
The child’s happy confidence germinated a suspicion.
Drusilla trusted Diana implicitly. But suppose she had been thrust in with Ginny for a purpose! It was legitimately within the context of slavery that a slave be caged, kept behind bars, imprisoned! Diana could come and gloat through the bars—perhaps remove Ginny and leave her alone... ! Drusilla resolutely thrust the thought away. She would not voice it to Ginny and rob them both of the teenager’s effervescence. But a bit of it hovered in her mind. After all, no slave, no matter how loved, could expect to enjoy all that slavery might demand. Drusilla did not enjoy being whipped—not until the afterwards! Perhaps for all of it there was an afterwards...