Ilona could feel herself curling up. The lovely idea was not likely to be pleasant.
But she was a slave and had best show willing. "Naturally I'm interested, Cicely."
She said lamely.
"I'll have Nora spreadeagle you someplace, darling." Cicely was alight with enthusiasm. "First off we'd have put those things on you so's you'd be blind. Then we'd leave you awhile to wonder what was going to happen. You'd feel ninety percent pussy with your legs wide open." Cicely giggled. "You wouldn't know whether we were watching or not."
"You're right, Cicely, I'd hate it. I'd be frightened" spread out and not able to move."
"Gorgeous, isn't it! You see, darling, the real kicker is you won't know what's roaming around. There's some livestock and a dog? animals are so attracted by pussy perfume. Then there's Josh! Josh isn't much intellectually but he's wonderful y hung, the damn thing's enormous! And I could always get some other fellows over."
Cicely sighed happily. "And then there's all the things we might do to you without bothering with your cunt at all. Mmmmm, you really would get a bang out of it, y'know? no pun intended."
"I don't suppose there's anything I can say to stop it happening to me?"
"Nothing, darling. You're so lucky."
The two of them were in a strange rapport. In response to a lifted eyebrow, Ilona turned to the post, exposing her back. She accepted the blow with as little fuss as she could manage. The crop was a brute, a hateful intimate thing biting her skin.
Pressed against the refuge of her post, eyes closed, she absorbed the agony as it crept and flashed to every nerve she possessed. She speculated, fearfully, on how many such strokes her mistress might inflict. But when she turned back to face her owner, Cicely Woods was sauntering back towards the house. She was alone with the vertical balk of timber to which her wrist was chained.
It was to be expected that she must stand. Ilona Paisley supposed all owners of kidnapped females thought alike. The impact of waiting at a place of punishment was obvious, as were its advantages. A girl could not be whipped forever, nor could she be tortured without cessation. But the cringing wait in anticipation and the exhausting stand while still quivering from the pain of her punishment were cheap and harmless inflictions without wear and tear on the merchandise. Ilona Paisley stood.
Frustration is a poor companion but the punished woman had no other. The metal band round her wrist was infuriating, it held her as implacably as dungeon walls. She could not stop fingering the bond that clinked back at her in metallic mockery.
And there were her fettered feet! Ilona thought of them, irritably, as 'ironed ankles.' They would hold her captive even though her wrist was free. In this realization she found strange comfort, the philosophy of hopelessness: 'why bother!'
She leaned against the whipping post and explored her wounds to discover the magic of fingertips lightly caressing whipweals as arousingly erotic. Knowing what to expect, the palm of her hand gathered secretions from her sex. She longed for Susan with an infinite longing.
Ilona supposed the dark figure ambling towards the whipping post must be 'Josh.'
There was nothing she could do about her nakedness, she would just have to stand and be ogled. One hand cannot cover two breasts and a triangle of pubic hair. She watched his approach with distaste, a middle aged coloured man with an amiable grin.
"Hi, Miz Paisley." The grin widened. "The name's Josh."
A hand was tentatively offered in greeting but quickly returned to a pocket.
"Hi, Josh. Sorry about not having any clothes." Ilona made it carelessly cordial, suddenly conscious that Josh could do whatever he pleased with her.
"Gals don' wear no clothes here, Miz Paisley. Just the boss lady. She don' wear
'em all the time neither."
"How nice for you! Do have a good look."
"Thanks, maam, I aim to. Mighty fond of cunts. I am. Surprising the way they all come different."
"How interesting."
"Yo bein' snotty, Miz Paisley. You mind if I check them chains?"
"Please do."
"Yo' still bein' snotty." He reproved gently as his big fingers tugged and twisted.
"Yo' chained real nice. Ain't no way yo' goin' ter git loose."
"I've been suspecting that for some time."
"I git ter fuck yo' sometime, Miz Paisley. Yo' lookin' forward ter that?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"Yo' ain't all that hot on the notion. I kin tell by the way yo' makes a fist and pulls on that iron."
"Well, never mind, I don't have much to say about such things."
"I'll jest have a gander at yer twat now, maam' Yo' can't spread them legs much. . but iffen yo' don' mind??"
"Do you have to touch it?" Ilona was suddenly afraid.
No one was in sight, they were alone.
"Don' yo' worry none, Miz Paisley. I don' touch yo' nowheres lessen the boss lady says O.K."
"Very well then." Ilona found it hard to hide relief. "I'll try and help, but with my ankles chained this way?"
"Thass O.K. I gits me down on my knees."
This absurdity was a part of it all, it belonged. A middle aged coloured man peering from below, between her spaced thighs, up at her pudendum. She herself thrusting her pelvis forward for his benefit. Perhaps It was as well they were alone. . !
"Real nice tidy slit yo' got. Miz Paisley." Josh sounded sincerely pleased. "Some gals, even the youngun's, got enough folds ter keep a guy guessin."
"I'm glad you like me, Josh. Are you going to unlock me?"
"C'mon now, Miz Paisley, yo' knows yo' ain't gettin' loose nohow." Josh got back to his feet and scratched a balding pate. "They all tries it though, can't blame 'em really. They all wants Josh ter turn 'em loose."
"You think it's O.K. for us to be chained like this?"
"Sure it is, maam. Yo' knows where yo' at. Hell, if I had a woman no way she'd git no chance ter romp over the hill."
It had been a good try and a relief from boredom. Perhaps she could learn more.
"What does your boss lady do with the other girls she's had here, Josh?" She asked casually. "Are they always chained?"
"Whups their little ass, Miz Paisley, same as she'll whup your'n. Hangs 'em up ter watch 'em wriggle? the way them gals carry on. . !"
"And you think that's O. K.?"
"Sure do, Miz Paisley. Money like Miz Woods got make any thin' O.K." Josh beamed reassuringly. "I think she got somethin' more interestin' up her sleeve for yo'"
"Like what?"
"Dunno', maam. Jest a notion I got."
"What happens to a girl when your boss lady tires of her?"
"They git sent overseas to a whore-house, maam. Or mebbe' she sell 'em ter some guy ter take home." Josh cackled. "They don't git wasted."
"Don't you feel sorry for Nora, Josh? The poor girl's being made to walk around naked and with her feet chained."
"That snooty little pullet! Hell, no!" Josh had evidently met with a coloured rebuff.
"Ah wants ter be there when she git her tight little ass blistered. Right now she got a job tendin' yo'."
"I think you ought to help her escape?"
"Yo' crazy, maam?" Josh was shocked.
"I suppose if I offer you a lot of money you'l go and tell Cicely I tried to bribe you?"
"Sho' 'nuff, that what I do, Miz Paisley."
Ilona sighed. She had expected nothing so was not disappointed. When he produced a piece of dirty string she eyed it with suspicion.
"Yo' mind if ah measures yo' neck, maam?"
"What for?" She knew, but had to ask.
"Ah gotta' forge yo' an iron collar, Miz Paisley. One what gits riveted on and stays awhile. Yo' seen the one little hoity-toity got on her neck. I make 'em real good."
A crude iron slave collar! It would be just the thing to amuse Cicely, a deftly contrived humiliation. Seething with resentment, Ilona stood stiffly while string circled her neck and was duly knotted to mark the spot. Josh returned it to his pocket and offered a farewell grin. "I gotta' go now, Miz Paisley. Be seein' yo' in the blacksmith shop."