“I can stand here and cut you to pieces,” said Mrs.
Pendleton affably. “And there’s nothing you can do about it except wave your arms and kick.”
Diana stood, panting, her hands against the wall beyond which she could not retreat. “Untie Ginny and take her somewhere else.” Her voice was pleading.
“Don’t want her to see you do a strip, eh?” Mrs. Pendleton was intrigued. She turned to the child bound against the bars. “You’d like to watch Ma do a tease, wouldn’t you, kid?”
“No, I wouldn’t! I think you’re horrid!” Ginny’s fury strained at the ropes. “You let Mummy go—let her GO!” .
“Why should I, love?”
“Because! Because she’s my mother, that’s why!” Ginny glared in fierce adolescent indignation. “Look, you old trout, you’ve got Drew and me. We’re helpless and we’re naked. What more do you want?”
Mrs. Pendleton nodded and beamed approvingly. “You ever service a woman, kid?”
“I’m fifteen, not five—and I’m not going to service you!”
“Old trout, eh!” Mrs. Pendleton’s voice was cheerfully pensive. “Ever had your tits thrashed, Ginny?”
“Belinda, no!” Diana’s cry was anguished.
“Your ma’s concerned about your breasts, love,” Belinda suggested suavely. “Pity she doesn’t want to take her clothes off.”
It had been inevitable from the beginning. A riding crop can be all powerful in a world of naked girls bound for its caress. Diana kicked off her shoes.
Drusilla had seen her Mistress naked. But never in the context of what was taking place. A woman nude in bed is a world removed from the same woman chained naked against a wall. What she beheld now left her breathless. It was beauty. It seethed eroticism. It was spiced with shame. No matter how Diana courted indifference she could not disguise her mortification at what she must do. Her clothes came off in slow, sharp jerks of fury.
“Dammit, Diana, if I had your figure I’d never wear clothes.” Belinda’s tribute was grudging and envious.
“Have a good look. There’s no charge.” Diana was bitter. “At least you have the sense not to try and cover anything. Keep your hands back against the wall—or lift ’em up. Just so long as I can get a good look.”
“It’s normal equipment,” Diana retorted listlessly.
“But high quality! Dammit, I’m glad I thought to bring those handcuffs. You can turn and face the wall and put your hands behind your back.”
Drusilla saw her Mistress tense, saw the involuntary glance at the crop and the woman who held it, saw the tentative hand reach up to the chain. Then, hopelessly, the lovely nudity turned and two hesitant hands offered themselves in surrender. Handcuffs latched their familiar song, two wrists tugged against the steel, then relaxed.
“Turn back, honey.”
Diana obeyed. Mortification was pink upon her face. “Don’t like taking orders, do you, love?”
“Belinda, you’re in the catbird seat. Don’t be mean to us.”
“Mother, don’t be humble just because of me. That’s just what she wants.” Ginny’s sense of the rightness of things was outraged.
“You want that little can of yours caned, honey?” Mrs. Pendleton enquired amiably.
“You’ll do it anyway. You’re a meanie!” Ginny spat. “That’s right, kid. You’re down for a licking. It’s a deal.”
“Leave Mummy alone. She’s never hurt you.”
“It’s no good, Ginny,” Diana interjected tonelessly.
“We’re all so damned helpless, we’d best behave.”
“M-o-t-h..e-r-r-r!!!”
“Your ma’s right, honey. I don’t need an excuse to wail your back or your boobs, but it’s nice to have one.”
“Oh, Mummy, you’ve tied me so tight!” An infinite yearning for freedom was in the young voice. “If I could get loose I’d scratch her to bits.”
“None of us can get loose, dear. Don’t antagonize Mrs. Pendleton. Don’t provoke her into giving you punishments.”
“My, my, Diana, you have seen the light!” Belinda Pendleton surveyed her new captive with beaming satisfaction. “I bet if it wasn’t for dear, little Ginny, you’d still be spitting fire.”
“Look, Belinda, you and I know the score. So does Drew. Keep Ginny locked in a room or something while you have your fun with us. You don’t need a child.”
“Hell, the kid’s first on the list for a thrashing. Haven’t had one her age before—wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Thrash me instead. You’ll get more pleasure out of my screams.”
Belinda smiled beatifically: “You haven’t grasped the beauty of this yet, have you! I’m going to thrash you all. As long as I like and as often as I like. And that’s just for starters. There are other things, y’know... ! Your lickings will just be the hors d’oeuvres... !”
“Belinda, don’t torture us. I’d have thought you’d have got a big enough charge out of seeing me like this. I’ve never been so shamed in my life.”
“It’s all beautiful, darling. I’m so damned lucky. Like I said, the three of you are a positive gold mine. I’ll be burning a fire in my cat all day.”
“How long do you intend to—use us?”
“I’ve been mulling it over. I don’t see why it can’t be permanent. I’ve been thinking of possibilities. I suppose you have?”
“Yes.”
“And I see you don’t like ’em,” Mrs. Pendleton chuckled. “I don’t need the money, but I’ve a good mind to rent you out. A high class cat house with the inmates always on call—or should I say ‘on chain’? How’d you like guys peering through the bars at you and making their selection?”
“Guys?”
“That got to you, didn’t it! Yes, guys. I’m sure your little twats can take something bigger than a tongue.”
“Don’t be beastly.”
“Dyed in the wool Lesbians, eh? That adds a bit of spice. I’ll tie you down and watch the disgust when he shoves it in.”
Diana looked levelly at her tormenter. “Will Homer go for this?”
“Homer gives me my head. Least I can do is offer him a piece of tail.”
It was useless! Belinda Pendleton’s banter was impregnable. Her possession of all three of them positive. Diana shrugged disdainfully and fell silent.
“Just occurred to me... ” Their new owner gazed from one to the other of them brightly. “I’m going to need a few things. I may stay the night. I expect you’ll still be here when I get back!” She guffawed happily and was gone.
The clang of the door and the turning of the key was a knell. A death and a beginning. Three naked females exchanged expressions of dismay. After Belinda Pendleton, any silence was profound.
“I deserve anything she does to me,” Diana said bitterly.
“To let myself be tricked like that! Like a silly kid... ! Now look at me! I’m so damned helpless I could cry.”
“It’s not your fault, Mummy.”
“Yes, it is. And at such a time! You two totally helpless ... .” She looked at the bound girls with a flicker of hope. ... Any faintest chance you can wiggle loose?”
“None at all, Di. We tried for hours before this happened.”
“I can’t! That’s for sure! She’s got the handcuffs biting my wrists in two—and this chain round my neck... Oh, damn!”
With the coming of the silence that finally took possession of the three despondent nudities, the pain returned to Drusilla’s knees. She had knelt upon the concrete a long time. Her strained efforts at easement brought only minimal relief. The ropes bit. The handcuffs were tight upon her wrists. She was engulfed in impotence. Tears hovered but she fought them back. Diana had troubles enough without a weeping slave.
Drusilla had entered slavery with an open mind. Enslavement had engendered responses undreamed, both in herself and from others. Now she was gripped by a fresh emotion that had not formerly been present. Fear! She had been captured and fallen into the possession of a hostile force. Bound tight and helpless, she faced a thralldom in which there was no love. She would actively long for escape, and be denied. Mrs. Pendleton would be thorough. Rope or chain would be on her always. She would be made subservient to the whip.