“You’re doing fine, dear.”
To the woman who watched, it seemed inadequate praise. The slender youthfulness stood now with both arms extended, head high. The young breasts rose and fell tumultuously. Two hurt hands offered themselves as sacrifice to an impetuous tongue. Diana took her time. Drusilla guessed she was demonstrating her daughter’s total involvement.
This time Ginny’s total nudity responded. It twisted and turned under the bite upon the open palm. But the lapse was momentary. Within seconds the youngster had stiffened and resumed the pose required. Both arms remained outstretched, one hand limp and curled, the other with fingers stiffly inviting the final stroke. With pounding heart, Drusilla watched it happen.
This time Ginny’s response was as old as the centuries.
Immediately her arm flinched under the worst blow of the four she uttered a sobbing wail, bent forward and tucked her punished hands under her armpits. As though making up for her previous fortitude she now gave herself utterly to the absorption of her pain. But even as she sobbed and writhed she enunciated in a clear young voice.
“Thank you, Mummy.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Hurt nicely?”
“Yes—oh, yes!”
“She’s a good kid. Isn’t she, Dru’?”
“I think she’s wonderful,” Drusilla said with heartfelt sincerity. “I don’t think I could have done that.”
“Want to try, darling?”
“Good heavens, no! I’d go crazy after number one.”
“Maybe.” Diana examined her handcuffed friend with amused assessment. “But you never know, do you! Wait till you’re on loan to me.”
“Diana, you wouldn’t?”
“Darling, you know perfectly well I would. In fact, I will.”
Drusilla felt outraged by this incipient betrayal of friendship. But the emotion was heavily laced with the tingling excitement that now seemed a part of all her days. Sulkily, she proclaimed the obvious.
“I won’t hold out my hand.”
“Want to bet?”
Drusilla blushed. She did not want to bet with this new Diana who knew too much. She was conscious that Ginny, whilst still busy hugging, was now taking a lively interest in in the exchange. “I’m not going to let you punish me like a child,” she proclaimed huffily.
“Tell her, Ginny.”
“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, you have to!” Ginny was anxious to offer the voice of experience. “If you don’t do what you’re told Mummy just keeps adding more.”
Drusilla sniffed. She had a suspicion she was being laughed at. “That’s all very well for you, dear,” she said kindly, “But I shall just go home.”
“Will you, darling! What are you wearing?”
Lust flared. She was naked. She was handcuffed. It was another of the new moments of realization. She would go nowhere. How could she! She glared at Diana in mock anger. “Oh, all right, have your fun. And anyway, it’s not likely to happen.”
“Is your bottom still tender, Mrs. Hammill? Mine’s stopped hurting.” Ginny’s query was politely sincere.
“You can dress and run along, poppet.” Diana’s directive was maternal. “And take the cane back with you.”
“Yes, Mother.” Ginny picked up her panties, then paused. “Mother, aren’t you going to cane Mrs. Hammill’s hands?”
“Why should I?”
“Well, I think it would be nice. You are sort of learning, aren’t you, Mrs. Hammill?”
“She can’t hold her hands out wearing those handcuffs,” Diana complained with obvious regret.
“I bet I could.” The girlish voice was eager. “All she’d have to do—”
“Ginny!!!”
“O.K., Mother, O.K., I’m dressing!” The small, swollen hand selected another feminine trifle. But the curiosity was unappeased. “I would so have loved to watch,” she added hopefully.
“Do you want to earn another four?”
It was impossible! Drusilla scarcely believed her eyes.
The bra stopped halfway to the youthful cones. Ginny’s face lit with excitement. “Oh, Mummy, could I!”
Diana’s reply bubbled laughter. “Ask Mrs. Hammill.”
“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, would you—please? I’d so like to watch. All you’d have to do is hold your hands out front instead of sideways. You could put the one that isn’t being caned underneath the one that is. Then change over each time. I’m sure it would work beautifully.”
“Not today, dear. I’m not as brave as you.”
“Poppet, go home!”
“Yes, Mother.”
Ginny’s disappointment was patent. Drusilla felt unkind and knew her values tumbling about her ears. She repressed, with difficulty, an impulse to offer her hand for one stroke only. It was too absurd!
“She’s quite insatiable.” Diana meditated after a once-more-smiling daughter had departed with the cane. “I sometimes wonder what I’ve started there.”
“She’s the happiest child I know.”
“I’m sort of proud of that end of it. But what will happen in a few years with boyfriends and husbands!?”
“Don’t let it happen, Di’.” Drusilla found her voice surprisingly vehement. “Keep the little darling. Keep her always.”
“The way I’m going to keep you?” The query was vibrantly sly.
Again the flame within the latex on her loins! She had known Diana for years—or had she? Were their true natures only now surfacing! Her lips still savored the flavor of her laughing companion. A sudden, delightful vision of a world devoid of Bryce or Hinton flashed and was gone.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Diana persisted.
“Yes.”
It had been easy to say. Once said, it changed everything. Drusilla shivered deliciously and raised her hands so that the handcuffs gleamed. Wonderingly, she said: “Without these—things wouldn’t happen... ”
“Locked on your wrists like that they do a lot of things,” Diana admitted. “They make me horny and force you to recognize something you’d otherwise reject. They stop you turning your back on what you’re scared to face.”
“Am I scared, Di’?”
“You were. But those handcuffs are giving you strength. I bet if I had the key you wouldn’t let me use it.”
Drusilla fingered the steel. It had become as much a part of her as her fingers themselves. “You’re right,” she admitted slowly, “But, Diana darling, don’t spoil things between Bryce and me. I seem to be committed to something or other—let things take their course.”
“I’ll wait,” said Diana comfortably.
4
The Cell
“Best you go to the bathroom,” Bryce advised briskly. Drusilla had become accustomed to such injunctions.
They were necessary where someone knew things you did not. The handcuffs no longer bothered her much at such times. When she returned, she voiced what appeared to be a certainty.
“Is this the day of reckoning, Bryce?”
“How did you guess!”
“The room’s finished.”
The room was as potent as all else that happened to her now. Drusilla felt it pointing at her like a beckoning finger. Because of her it had come into being. The carpenters had worked fast.
“like it?”
“It’s a prison.”
“Just the cell part, sweetheart. The rest’s for fun and games.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like it at all. Oh, Bryce, those—those—things! It’s grim.”
“It’s well illuminated.” Bryce turned a knob proudly. “See? It can be as bright or as dim as suits the mood.”
“Turn it on full. And that poor little window up there—it didn’t need to be barred.”
“Nice effect, though. Don’t you think?”
“And this awful little cell! Are you really going to lock me in it?”
“Only sometimes.”
“Oh, Bryce, don’t sound so damned pleased.”
“Why not! I am pleased. I’m particularly pleased with you. Come here.”
She went to him and clasped her shackled hands over his neck. Bryce hugged her tenderly. “Sometimes this isn’t easy for me,” he admitted in her ear. “But the way you’ve taken hold... ! You’re making me very happy.”