“Why haven’t you caned our bottoms yet, Mistress? Ginny said you never forget.”
Diana chuckled. “You’ve fallen into the neatest habit of calling me all sorts of things when we’re just talking. But once your slavery is the topic you revert to addressing me as Mistress—I love it.”
“I won’t get punished for the other times?”
“I should, but I won’t. I love that, too. As for caning your saucy seat, I’ve been waiting for you to give me an excuse for adding to the tally. Seven’s not all that severe.”
“Just me being me’s an excuse, Mistress.”
“I know it is, you little fox. You’re becoming so sweetly demure my panties are always sopping. But I do like to have a worthwhile excuse with Ginny. Kills two birds with one stone.”
“But, Mistress, isn’t ten going to hurt her enough—the way you lay ’em on?”
“Mmmmmm, it depends... ! Fact is, our little sweetheart’s derriere is getting just a trifle inured. I’m not sure ten’s going to make her cry. I’ve always made each caning an event. Something for her to carry around a few days.”
“Does she always have to cry?”
“Oh, of course! It’s a sort of a seal of approval. Ten used to make her cry buckets. But lately—”
“Do you want me to cry too, darling?”
“Yes,” Diana mused quietly. “I think tears sort of belong. A girl becomes so feminine when she weeps, especially if it’s because she’s been punished and her bottom hurts... Am I a bitch?”
“Oh, darling, don’t say such a thing! You used to wish Hinton would beat you. That time I was whipped you were envious of my marks.”
Diana made a gesture of bafflement. “So what does that make me?”
“Right now, you’re my mistress,” Drusilla said with certainty. “You’re a stronger character, and you’re stronger than I am physically. If I tried to escape, you could get the best of me. Don’t let’s analyze each other.”
Diana’s face lit up. “Want to try and escape, Drew?” Drusilla lifted her handcuffs. “In these?”
“I’ll take ’em off. It would be a colossal turn on. I’d love to drag you, squealing, back to your punishment.”
“No. You’d have to make me do that, and then it would be contrived—no sale.” Drusilla gulped coffee hastily. “But, Mistress, could we get my caning over, please?”
“Drew dear, you that horny?”
“Is that what made me ask?”
“Or else the suspense is getting to you.”
“I don’t think it’s that. It’s our talking—like this. It’s so—so—it’s put me in the mood.”
“My, my! Our little slave girl is feeling her oats!”
“If seven isn’t enough, Mistress... ?”
Diana laughed gleefully. “Oh, don’t worry, pet. As of now you’re up to fourteen.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’re a simpering little fox. I should make it twenty-one.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You actually want it, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry I’m so silly. I’m sure I’ll cry.”
“I’ll make quite certain of it,” Diana said grimly.
“You’re simply seething with sex. A few tears and a warm seat will get you back on track.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“If you say that again in that sweet, innocent, demure, little-girl tone of voice I’ll take my clothes off and hand you the cane,” Diana threatened. “You’re a menace like that. You’d melt any female. Even Ginny doesn’t have that particular potency.”
“I expect it’s because I’m bad.”
“Stop it!”
“I’m a naughty girl.”
“Drusilla!!!”
They burst into laughter. A girl-girl sharing of joy. “Am I really that good at being—well—whatever it is?” Drusilla asked ingenuously.
“Between you and Ginny I shall die of orgasms,” Diana affirmed ardently. “It will be a lovely death. But first—let your bottom beware!”
“After breakfast, darling?”
“After breakfast, saucy slave.”
It was not quite as she had expected. But then, it was not supposed to be! Drusilla understood Diana’s need to keep her always off balance. Once things started to be taken for granted... ! That would never do. But still... !
It was not an enjoyable tie. It was an infuriating pose to be compelled to hold. The fact that it protruded her behind most conveniently seemed coincidental. She mourned the loss of her beloved handcuffs but was thankful they did not join her wrists at this moment. Instead, her wrists were crossed behind her back and bound fast by quite a few strands of soft white rope. The rope was tight. Not that its bite mattered. What did matter was that her hands had been raised high behind her back by some sort of pulley that was no more visible than a whirr in the ceiling.
“All conveniences, Drew darling.”
“Oh, Mistress, I’m almost on my toes.”
“Lovely, isn’t it! Just a single rope from the winch.”
It was not lovely at all. But its authority upon her bent nudity was total. Drusilla had a good view of the floor, her bound ankles, her corded knees, and her pubic hair. If she wanted to see anything else she had to strain awkwardly and painfully.
Drusilla had protested the binding of her feet. But an amused Diana had been adamant. “If you can kick and cavort you’ll just struggle that much more and bother your poor shoulders more than you need. So shut up, darling, and think about the lovely cane and your dear little bottom.”
Under the compulsion of the cords, much of Drusilla’s erotic titillation over the cane had evaporated. She felt very bare and very bent and very vulnerable. The final indignity had come when something had been forcibly thrust into her unsuspecting mouth. It was there now: a metal ring held behind her teeth by a strap across her cheeks and buckled firmly at the back of her neck above her collar.
“Silence and immobility, darling,” Diana had cooed wickedly. “Perfect conditioning for a slave girl.”
Drusilla silently agreed. She was quite prepared to be, say, do, or promise anything so that her arms might be released and she return to normal. She would have been very vocal about this obedience had the gag not silenced her protestations. No doubt that was why it was put in her mouth. Diana did not want to hear. If this was conditioning, she would be well conditioned indeed.
It was her saddest plight yet. Wryly, the naked captive supposed it a promotion. Diana was not playing kid’s games and she was not a kid. She was being taught what she was. If the tuition was painful, that was her hard luck. Drusilla gazed down despondently as another drop of wet joined others on the floor. The ring strapped in her mouth promoted salivation but robbed her of control. Her saliva slipped past her lips at will. Her efforts to swallow it back were ineffectual. After Diana had left her alone she had explored the possibilities of speech. But the sounds that escaped through the ring were too demeaning. She soon desisted.
Knowledge of time was not for her. Drusilla sadly guessed her estimates colored by longing. But she was sure she had stood thus for a long time. Diana was making her wait and think. Maybe when the cane actually began to stripe her skin she would be grateful. Her wracked shoulders howled their plea for release.
She was completely helpless. The elevation of her bound hands defeated normal wrigglings. She would have to stand, her head and shoulders bent well forward, until such time as her mistress chose to end her travail. In a forlorn attempt to speed the passage of time, the mute captive had striven to have her first good look at the New Room. To do so she had to fight the tether to her hands, straining them up almost to her neck so as to raise her head enough to look around at the goodies on which Diana had spent so much of their money. What she saw was not reassuring. The circumstances for viewing were all wrong. listlessly she relapsed and resumed her staring at her feet. Her only comfort was that her breasts did not hang. This was a test to which they were responding with magnificent firmness.