“I’ve already tried. It’s hopeless. We’re both fixed, but good! Gosh, one of these ropes across my shoulder... !”
“Me too. Being tied up is the pits. Ever figured out why it makes us horny, Drew?”
“Because a girl did it. Someone we love. The ropes are her hands on us. They make us know we’re owned and controlled—that we can’t get loose unless they let us.”
“What about if a man did it to you?”
“Same thing. But if you didn’t like him you’d hate it.”
“You sure about it?” Ginny asked with interest. “I’ve wondered... I’d hate to be tied by a man. I don’t want anything to do with boys or men... ugh! It would be horrid to be owned by one—not when I’ve got gorgeous Mummy and gorgeous you! I’d sooner let Petty... ”
“Suppose it wasn’t a case of ‘let.’ Suppose you were forced by physical strength?”
“Oh, wow! It is sort of a turn on, darling. Have you... ?”
“No. But it’s the female rape fantasy.”
“Oh, that! No, thanks!” Ginny’s disgust was vehement.
“That’s a real ugh! One of those—things inside me.”
The child was infinitely sweet. Drusilla wondered what life might do to her. Would Diana be able to keep her captive always within this cocoon of scented femininity in which she herself was a happy prisoner! Here, no matter how she was bound, the child would never sense captivity.
“Say, Drew, did you hear something?”
“Probably your mother moving a chair.”
“It didn’t sound—right.”
“Well, there’s bound to be noises in a house.”
“I s’pose. I say, Drew, d’you think Mummy might let you tie me sometime?”
“I expect so. Gosh, Ginny, I’d like to. I’d like it a lot.”
“Just thinking about it’s made me all goosey. I just know I’m going to pop!” Ginny’s voice oozed excitation. “She could lock us both in here. But no handcuffs on you! She could leave you lots of rope and you could do anything you liked with me. It’s groovy!”
This time the sound was more pronounced. Both girls tensed against their bindings, listening.
“It’s absolutely cunt curling,” Ginny whispered. “We’re completely helpless. Just think... !”
Drusilla was thinking. It was most likely Diana pushing furniture around under some feminine caprice for change. But suppose... ! A burglar! An intruder! But it was broad daylight! It was absurd!
It was then they heard the door open and the step upon the stairs.
“Don’t play the haughty lady with me, Diana,” said a vaguely familiar voice.
Drusilla strained to look up. Ginny looked down. Each face reflected consternation. “I can hardly move,” Ginny whispered hoarsely. “Oh, damn!”
Drew slammed her nakedness against her bonds in a frenzy of need to be free. It amounted to no more than a reflex action. She was held fast. “It’s no use, darling,” she mourned. “Whatever’s happening is going to happen.”
“What the devil have we got here!” The unknown voice from somewhere in the past sounded surprised and pleased. “I’ve been wondering where you kept your little cunts. Damn neat, I must say. Where’s the key?”
“On that nail—the passage wall.” Diana’s voice was oddly strained.
“Aha! The old trick. They can see it but can’t reach. Tantalizing as hell.”
The lock on the cell door made its now familiar snap.
Diana stumbled inside, propelled by a lusty hand. Her arms were handcuffed behind her back. She was flushed with fury and shame.
“M-o-t-h-e-r-r?” Ginny’s familiar exclamation was anguished.
“It’s all right, dear. Don’t panic.” Diana’s voice clearly said things were not ‘all right’ at all.
“And how’s my little slave girl’s rump today?”
Mrs. Pendleton’s muscularity made the cell seem doubly small. She surveyed the naked captives with beaming approval. Her voice was hearty. “Did a good job on ’em, Diana. They’re safe. Young’un’s your own, eh? Starting her out right.”
“Belinda, stop this! Ginny’s a child. She shouldn’t—”
“Nice cunt and tits, Diana. Looks big enough to me.”
“That’s not the point! This is all wrong! You are not invited! And you tricked me, damn you!”
Mrs. Pendleton guffawed. “You fell for it. When I said it was something new in handcuffs you were eager as all get out. Got one cuff on you, the rest was easy.”
“You took a rotten advantage. It’s a betrayal of friendship. Let me loose. Take these things off my wrist.”
“Cool down, Diana. Think a bit. I’ve stumbled on a gold mine here. I’d be nuts to pass it up. There’s no way you can get out of those handcuffs. I’ve got you! I’ve got all three of you.”
It was then that Drusilla saw the marks on Diana’s arms.
Diana wore a sleeveless dress. Both her bare arms bore the scarlet of the riding crop Mrs. Pendleton held beneath one arm. Her resistance and its punishment would explain the sounds.
“You can’t possibly do this. It’s too outrageous!” Diana was tugging at her cuffed hands in the resentment of a new captive Drusilla remembered all too well.
“You know I can, love. I can certainly get away with it long enough to whip you all into shape—most especially you, Diana! You’re vulnerable. If I want to be a bit crafty I can possibly whip you for life.”
“But why? You’ve got—?”
“I’m a bored, middle-aged sadist, love. A bit jaded. You’ll put new life in me.”
“But my daughter! It’s just not—!”
“Your daughter’s doing just fine. Look at the little pretty! Naked and all tied up! Where’s your beef’?”
Drusilla watched in impotent misery as her beloved Mistress was herded from the cell. When she was marched back, her neck was circled by a chain. She was led to one of the upper rings in the opposite wall. A padlock snapped. Diana stood tethered by no more than twelve inches of metal links. Mrs. Pendleton removed the handcuffs.
“Undress!”
Drusilla’s heart quickened in apprehension. Her darling Mistress! The vividly beautiful Diana chained, at bay, her authority shattered by a sardonic beldam intent on carnal joy.
“Belinda, be sensible! We can still be friends.”
“We are friends, darling. Undress!”
Diana’s hands were busy at her throat, exploring her own chain, her own padlock. She made a motion forward and was snubbed back. Save for her neck, she was free! But she was also helpless. She could do no more than stand against the wall of her own cell, glowering.
Mrs. Pendleton made suggestive flourishes with her riding crop. Concerned eyes focused on its flexing and its cutting of the air. Mrs. Pendleton basked in their attention. “All right. That thing hurts. You’ve made your point,” Diana declaimed angrily. “Surely you’re not bitch enough to use it on us while we’re like this!”
“Undress, dear. I want to see your cunt.”
“Belinda! Don’t talk like that! Remember—!”
“The kid?” Mrs. Pendleton guffawed. “I noticed the bottoms on those two on the way in. That youngster knows the score.” She turned to the bound and indignant Ginny. “Where’s your cunt, kid?”
“Same place as yours,” Ginny said sullenly.
The crop flashed across a slim hip. Ginny yelped.
“Where’s your cunt, girl?”
“Between my legs.” Ginny vouchsafed the information resentfully.
“Belinda, she’s only a girl. For Pete’s sake—!”
“She’s a girl with a well-caned bottom, and you’re likely to have one too,” said Belinda expansively. “Now, stop nattering and undress.”
“I refuse. Not in front of my daughter.”
“What have you got that she hasn’t?”
“That’s an absurd question. It’s indecent.”
“I’m looking at two cunts and four tits right now,” Mrs. Pendleton pointed out reasonably. “It’s not as though you’d be breaking fresh ground.”
“I simply refuse. That’s final.”
The crop cut at the leg below the skirt. In a sickening knowledge of pain, Drusilla saw the nylon shred and ladder under the blow. Diana lunged to clasp her injury but was jerked back by the chain upon her neck.