“I’d imagine it’s quite an experience, darling?”
“Nnning!”
“Sorry, I forgot you were suffering in silence. Is this little ensemble very bad?”
“Nrrrrrgh!”
“All right, I’m a meanie. I’ll take it out. I really shouldn’t. I’m sure it’s doing you no end of good. But it spoils your loveliness. Besides, I want someone to talk to.”
“Oh, darling... ! Oh, Mistress!” The still-helpless captive was overwhelmed with gratitude and relief.
“Pretty bad, eh?”
“It’s awful. You’ve no idea. Oh—ohhhhh!”
Fingers were forcing a passage between her constrained thighs. Drusilla gasped at the firm contact and was sorry when it was withdrawn.
“You’re O.K., sweetheart. Plenty of moisture.”
Drusilla longed for release but was sure she should not ask. Suddenly, a long, slender streak of yellow was held within her range of vision. “I won’t make you kiss it, Drew. I want to avoid cliches in what we do together.”
“I want to kiss it. Oh, Mistress, let me?”
“You funny little fox! Why?”
“I don’t know. I just want to. It’s something from you to me, isn’t it? I guess that’s why.”
The rod was raised to her straining lips. Drusilla kissed it again and again. “I’m kissing you,” she said huskily. “Couldn’t you guess?”
“Drew, what’s come over you? I could almost believe you were about fifteen.”
“It’s Ginny,” Drusilla surmised. “I told you, she’s infectious.”
“Hmmmmm, yes maybe. But there’s something else... ”
“Well, then, it’s you and me. You own me now. I’ve become Ginny’s twin. I do what you tell me. Oh, gollies, Mistress dear, this is awful tough on my shoulders!”
“Good!” Diana’s fingers tested the moist armpits so cruelly exposed beneath the wrenched shoulders. “I think I’ll let your hair grow in your armpits, darling. Quite a novelty in this day and age.”
“Oh, Mistress!”
“That sounds like Ginny. When you get a good bush under both arms, I’ll shave your pubic hair. The effect should be gorgeous.”
“Diana, please!!!”
The exclamation was lost under the snicker of the cane and its thunk upon the unsuspecting cheeks. Drusilla yelped in shock.
“Good thing for you I’m not a man, Drew. If I were, I’d have to take you right here and now the way you are. The scarlet line that’s forming on your seat is lighting a fire in me I can barely stand.”
Drusilla contented herself with a whimper. The pain was intense. She was very thankful Diana was not a man. For the next several blows she was able to control herself against a mounting agony. When Diana paused, the whipped girl moaned: “Oh, please... ! Go easy. Oh—oh—oh... ! Oh, Mistress, couldn’t you untie my feet?”
“What on earth for?”
“I think it would help. I’m so—so—so lumpy and helpless. And I’m trying so hard not to scream.”
“I want you to scream, darling. I don’t mind. And, no, I won’t untie your feet. You’d kick and lunge. This way you have to stand still and all the action’s in your darling bottom. You should see it weave! I wouldn’t miss what you’re doing with it for the world.”
“It’s doing it itself,” Drusilla mourned. “I didn’t even know it was doing anything—except hurt.”
Diana resumed the flagellation of her beloved. When, after several impacts, Drusilla emitted a tentative scream, she paused again. “You haven’t started to cry yet, darling.” There was real disappointment in her reproach.
“It’s because I’m trying too hard,” her victim gasped. “I want to but it won’t work. Or maybe it’s because I hurt so bad.”
“Sorry you’re my slave?”
“No!” The negative was vehement.
“Want to be untied?”
“No!”
“You’re a darling, and quite incredible. But it won’t save you a single stroke.”
“I don’t want it to—Arrrrrragh!”
Drusilla clung to her love for the woman who yielded the cane. The pain would go away. But the love would go on and on. It was so wonderful—so wonderful! She gasped and twisted her way through to the fourteenth cut. She was sure her bottom behaved outrageously, but she did not care.
“You’ve had it, poppet. Feel better?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Drusilla gasped. “Oh, Di’!” The cane cut her ruthlessly.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. I forgot.”
“I had to do that, dear. I mustn’t start letting you get away with anything.”
“I know. But it’s so hard sometimes! Oh, Mistress, are you going to untie me?”
The cane savagely added a sixteenth weal to Drusilla’s scorched flesh. “You mustn’t ask. You mustn’t hint,” Diana admonished.
Drusilla burst into tears. The fortitude that had coped with the fourteen strokes crumbled. Diana stepped back and viewed what her cane had wrought, her heart torn by its beauty, her sex flaring at sight of the ridged flesh and bowed loveliness of the girl she now possessed utterly. The tears were sweet. They fell, one by one, to join the other pathetic stains upon the floor.
“There, there! You’re so beautiful. The punishment’s over.” Drusilla’s head was cradled against Diana’s middle. The familiar perfume and the scent of sex dragged the tied girl back into her new world. She nestled lovingly against Diana’s vibrant femininity.
“Poor little darling. I’ll always be beautifully mean to you.” Diana stroke the damp hair, then bent and kissed the nape of the bent neck above the locked collar. “You’ve earned a little something,” she whispered mischievously.
Drusilla allowed the thousand tingles of sensation to possess her being. She felt no need of words. She hurt, she glowed. Her spirit soared, her shoulders ached. Her wrists were afire but the ropes were falling from her ankles and knees under Diana’s urgent tugs. The world was very wonderful and wholly good. Her wealed bottom was singing its own paean of praise for benefits received.
“Now you can kick, darling. Nice feeling?”
“Mmmmmm! Ohhhhhh—!” The moans were of joy. Diana’s heart raced. Once more she retreated to behold her palpitating creation. The still helpless nakedness was stretching a tentative leg back and forth and sideways. Most intriguingly she was kicking and flexing from the knee, savoring their freedom. The rope from her bound wrists to the pulley swayed and shivered from her small essays in a limited freedom. Drusilla was helpless but happy.
“You do have to stay there, darling.”
“Mmmmmm... ” It was an ambiguous acceptance.
“Slave girls are never let loose after punishment.”
“Mmmmmm... !”
“You can bear it, can’t you, darling?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it, Mistress? I haven’t a thing to say.”
“My, you are coming along nicely, Drew.” Diana clasped the submissive head in loving hands. Raising it against the compulsions of its bondage she sought the eager lips. The two women kissed longingly and long. When she knew herself consigned once more to lonely pain, the prisoner did not complain. It was forbidden and she would obey. Drusilla’s shoulders wept but she did not. At the door, Diana paused. “I won’t leave you there all day, darling.”
“Mmmmmm... !”
“I want you rested for this evening.”
The bowed head raised in surprise. “Mistress?”
“Cocktails at seven, Drew dear. The Pendletons.” The Pendletons! Drusilla moaned. The Pendletons had money. Drusilla had always thought it silly to try and keep up with them. But Belinda Pendleton was a force and her consort, Homer, was an amiable shadow from a world of distant ‘deals’ beyond suburbia. They exuded a generous patronage to the hoi polloi. Their food and drink were always superlative.
“So nice for you two to be together.” From her middle-aged eminence, Belinda Pendleton contrived to infuse her remark with coy significance. She viewed Diana and Drusilla with a knowing eye. “I’m sure you get along splendidly.”