“We sleep together,” Diana matched innuendo with impudence.
Belinda Pendleton was un-shockable. She oozed benevolence. “And which of you is... ? Dear me, there is a word?”
“I am,” said Diana sweetly.
“I should have guessed, dear.” Their hostess cocked an assessing eye at a flushed Drusilla. “Such a lovely collar! And that padlock! I do envy you both.” She bathed them in approval and melted back among her guests.
“She’s guessed it right off,” Drusilla wailed. “Oh, Di’, I told you!”
“So what, darling!” Diana was radiant. “You’re mine! I’m showing you off.”
“But my collar! It’s so—so—and the padlock!”
“My brand on you, darling. But I love them looking. I’m the most envied woman in the room.”
“But, Diana darling, I’m scared to walk.”
“Enjoy it, silly. You’re a positive traffic stopper.”
It was true! Drusilla wanted to laugh and scream and cry. It was too wonderful and too absurd. The locking of the band about her middle was still a vivid happening. Diana had been laughing at her concern.
“I’m never going to let you out without something on you somewhere, Drew.”
“My collar’s on me. The padlock’s like waving a flag.”
“Not enough, darling. I want you wearing something from me to you. Something under your clothes that hurts.”
“Oh, Mistress, please!”
“You know you’re dying for it. Look!”
Drusilla remembered her gasp and the instant heating of her sex. The silver belt was as lovely as her collar. She feared it but desired it more than anything else in the world.
“It’s got a quite simple lock. But you’ll never get it off with your fingers. Raise your arms, dear.”
It had been instant ecstasy. She had raised her arms without thought of consequence. The chill of the metal round her waist had melted in to the clasp of love. After the click at her back she had lowered her hands and sent them questing.
“You can’t get it off.”
It had seemed terrible tight. But, in front of the mirror, Drusilla could only gasp and emit exclamations.
“Now walk.”
She had forgotten! When her hips jauntily flaunted her loins she turned, aghast. “I can’t go out like this!”
“Of course not, silly. You’ll be dressed.”
“Not that—my walk! Oh, darling!”
“I’m going to be so proud, Drew.”
Drusilla sipped and glowed in her mistress’s approval.
She understood that the party was another test. It was desirable that she be seen out and around. Desirable, too, in their own private way, that she be constrained and kept aware of her condition. The belt nagged, but it was a lovely sex-wetting nag she adored. If only her hips... ! In sauntering across the extensive floor she might as well be beating a drum.
“We mustn’t cling, darling. You’re on your own.”
The strictured slave watched her mistress mingle with the groups. Drusilla knew she could not possibly just stand. She downed her drink and headed for the bar. Her hips proclaimed her a whore. The giggle was insidious. It was Minnie Albertson.
Minnie was a thirtyish moppet who would never grow up. She clinked glasses with Drusilla and whispered throbbingly: “Belinda’s on to you.”
The embarrassed slave felt out of her element. She gulped hastily and felt a conspirator. She liked Minnie, but even the stricture round her tummy did not dissipate inhibitions. “On to what, Minnie?” she asked innocently.
Minnie’s giggle covered all contingencies. She used it again. “Poor darling, you feel so conspicuous, don’t you? But doesn’t it positively curl your spine?”
“My spine?”
“Drusilla darling, not with me! You don’t have to dissemble with poor little Minnie. I’ve been there. ’S’matter of fact, I’m there right now.”
“I’ll have another.” Drusilla pushed her glass across the bar. Minnie was sweet. But between them loomed an abyss.
“I found a few drinks real helpful at the start,” Minnie confided. “Quigley didn’t break me in easy.”
“Minnie, what are you babbling about?”
Minnie was unperturbed. “You’ve got some sort of belt locked round your tummy, Drew. I can tell.”
“It’s a corset.”
“No, it isn’t. Your breasts aren’t lifted. I bet you can’t get it off. Diana’s got the key, hasn’t she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. I bet your panties are sopping and you’d like to tell me about it but you’re shy.”
“All right, so you know!”
“Don’t be sulky, darling. Is Diana being mean to her little slave girl?”
“No!”
“Don’t bite my head off. Would it make you feel better to know there’s pair of plastic balls popped inside my puss and my vulva’s closed by a padlock to which I don’t have a key?”
“Minnie, don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s true. I’ve been pierced. Quigley insisted.”
While Drusilla sought solace in her glass, a nimble hand explored her waist, probing knowingly beneath the fabric.
“Yeah, it’s there!” Minnie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“Minnie!”
“Want me to ask Diana?”
“You haven’t! You’re not padlocked... ”
“I am, too! Here, I’ll stand. Be careful, but feel.” Drusilla knew herself lost. This was too good to be true.
She sent one nonchalant hand upon a mission. She gasped. It was true! Her fingers encountered the unmistakable contours of the, by no means tiny, metal cruelty between Minnie’s legs.
“For Pete’s sake don’t pull, Drew!”
The hand withdrew. Drusilla viewed her cheerful companion with respect. She refused to concede envy. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It used to. But I’ve got used to it. I like it better than the chastity belt Quigley bought.”
“Oh, Minnie, no!”
“Oh, Minnie, yes!” The gamin eyes twinkled. “I am a bit susceptible to men. The belt and the padlock have been a relief—saves me decisions. You should see their faces!” For a moment Minnie turned serious. “We all wondered why Bryce didn’t lock one on you.”
Drusilla refused to be drawn. She made her voice as casual as her leaping pulse would allow. “Those plastic balls... ?”
Minnie tittered. “They’re not really a punishment. On the other hand, they’re a bit hard to live with. I’m all the time amorous. If I walk around too much I have an orgasm. You’d think it would show. But Quigley says I always look like I’m about to come. I say, Drew, does Diana whip you?”
Drusilla gave up pretense. Or perhaps it was the drinks. She sparkled. “Only when I’m bad.”
“Quigley uses that excuse. You ought to see my bottom.”
“I’d love to. May I?”
“If I can see yours?”
Simple! Drusilla drained her glass.
The Pendleton powder room was magnificent and commodious. Inspired by the nectar of the bar, the giggling couple took possession of a cubicle and raised their dresses like naughty little girls.
“Oh, it’s lovely!” Minnie’s finger traced the steel round Drusilla’s waist. “And it won’t come off, will it?”
“I can’t get it off;” Drusilla admitted proudly.
Panties were lowered, then impatiently removed. Exclamations of admiration for wealed flesh accompanied an interchange on bottoms. Breathlessly Drusilla instructed:
“I’ll sit down now and you sort of spread your legs.”
It was there! Minnie’s cooperation was total. The padlock nestled deep within her sex, closing its lips. It was beautiful, implacable, exciting. Drusilla fingered it in awe.
“Every girl should have one.”
The hearty feminine voice came from above. Two pairs of startled eyes looked up at the flushed features of Belinda Pendleton peering over the partition. “I’m standing on the can next door,” she explained amiably. “Knew you were up to something.”