Both of us got a bit of a giggle out of using it and then putting it back just as it had been. We also left the locked collar right in front of the dog house door. It was too cute for words. But it was the last giggle we had.
You see, as usual when I act bratty, I hadn’t thought about afterwards. It wasn’t until we had run off into the trees that I realised I’d sort of inhereted dear Mabel. I’d got my liberty and I’d got Mabel. But what was I going to do with her?
We wondered. I showed her bits of the island. Finally we sat down behind some bushes and talked. She was tired and hungry. I felt sorry for her and a bit guilty over pulling her leg. After all, when you considered all that had happened to her it was understandable she’d be a bit put out. In the end I simply told her the truth and and wanted to know if she was going to try and evade capture or whether she’d be sensible and come home with me for dinner. I was sure Mark would feed her. But by that time I wasn’t certain about dear little Terry getting anything to eat.
"And get myself chained up?" she demanded.
She was still handcuffed and I was glad she was. It put me in the catbird seat. I’d had an inspiration. Supposing I’d walk in and delivered Mabel safe and sound without a fight, my own lapse of grace might be forgiven. Honest, some of the things Mark does to me when he’s angry….
"You won’t be any more chained up than I will."
"Wanted me to take my clothes off?"
"You won’t be any more naked than me and Dorinda."
"That older girl had clothes on." Mabel thought she had a point.
"She hasn’t got any on right now," I said certainly. "She’s being punished."
"What the hell for?"
"Part of her training."
"Training!?" Poor Mabel. I had to understand her incredulity.
"I’m already trained. But Dorinda isn’t. At least, Mark thinks she isn’t." I began to realise how impossible it might be to make her understand. "Look," I said firmly. "You’ll have to surrender sometime. Make a virtue of it. Come back with me now. I’ll get punished, but you won’t. Mark will be pleased with you. Butter him up a bit. Might save you a sore bottom." I was sure she would have called it a sore ass.
Mabel balked. I got pankicky. "Alright, if you won’t let me help you, then I’m going back and lock myself in the collar again. No sense getting punished for nothing."
She wouldn’t come. So I left her there and ran like blazes. I’m sure you can guess what I found.
The key was gone!
Well, I’d been whipped before and I’d be whipped again. Little Terry had had her fun. Now she would pay for it. I had turned disconsolately toward the house when I got another inspiration. It was worth a try. Once more I ran. At least I was getting excersize. Mabel was still there. She looked sad and forlorne.
I threw myself down beside her, put my head in her lap and burst into tears… I’m very good with the tears bit. Mark nearly always falls for it. I told her my plight and wailed that I was scared. But that if only she would come home with me I was sure I wouldn’t be punished too badly if she explained I had persuaded her.
It took a while. But it worked. Probably more from her hunger and fear of the night than my histrionic effort, besides I do think she has a kind heart. But now I’d got this far I wanted to make a real impression and I wanted to help Mabel. So I asked her to go back with me as naked as I was and to be really careful what she said. I knew she’d just hurt herself with all of us if she went on scattering four letter words around as though there had been a shortage. Mark doesn’t like tham any better than I do.
That was another tussle. I think Mabel had been naked often enough in all the wrong places. But she had a sort of lower middle class thing about it. I won by saying how much nicer it is to take ‘em off yourself rather than to have them taken by force by a man. I intimated, too, that it would mean about twenty fewer strokes. By that time Mabel was beginning to take strokes seriously. She never stopped looking at the pair I was carrying around. Poor Mabel.
I stopped feeling sorry for Mabel when we’d gotten her clothes off. We’d had to tear some of them, because of the handcuffs. But once in the nude Mabel was a beauty. Her figure was good enough to eat. In fact, I did get some bad ideas. But squelching them, she’d had a trying day. The quaint thing about Mabel was that, with a figure like that would have won any beauty contest, she was quite unaware of anything out of the way. She described the whole assembly as "tits and twat". I really think she’d be stymied if you mentioned nipples and pubes.
It was a triumphant return. I’d prayed the’d be on the terrace and sure enough they were. Dorinda pretty as a opicture in those glad rags I’d given her, but handcuffed and daintily sipping a martini. She grinned happily so I knew she’d survived the afternoon okay. Mark was viewing the two naked additions with an uncertain eye. I’m sure that he did not recognize a naked Mabel and for a minute wondered who on earth I’d picked up. But when he grasped the picture Mabel stole the whole show by coming out with a real diller I wouldn’t have thought she could have managed. Holding out her chained hands and with a beaming smile she advanced to the table and said: "Dear Mr. Esmond. I am sorry. I’ve been a silly girl. Please forgive me."
Amazing.
I got ten with the cane.
Dorinda is beautiful to whip. She is a dream come true. When the cane sinks into these lovely curves she has, there is an electric something that comes from her to me as though the cane had just joined two electrodes. In a sense, I suppose, that is what it does.
She is so right! I feel guilty about training her. If I wasn’t seeking perfection I’d let her talk me into stopping it. But syhe sees what I see. In her heart she knows there’s no other way to where we are going. She’s quite marvellous. In her time on the post with the cross under her arms, and it was quite a long time too. She often managed to talk to me as though nothing was happening. I know that’s not easy. Terry told me how she had felt when she hung there. She didn’t want to talk, just moan and plead with me to let her down. Poor little Terry. I couldn’t stand it and had to go away and leave her alone. Terry is beautiful too.
I’m very lucky.
The way Dorinda came to us out of the blue was a small miracle. If I live t0o be a hundred I’ll still remember my first sight of the lovely naked girl with her wirsts handcuffed behind her back walking up the road to the top of the hill, looking around her as thoigh in wonder at everything she saw.
She has a tremendous natural gift for accepting punishment. If it is not too long she will smile at me throughout. If it is more she will sort of share with me by small glances of apology. If she moans or screams – and she does both – she will catch my eye after wards and signal in some magic way she has that everything is okay and to please go on whipping her.
Terry is beautiful to whip too. But the two girls are different. Terry is the breath of early spring. Dorinda is a gorgeous day in June. Terry has always loved half her punishments, maybe all of them. She and I should have been twins; not that it matters. She is a magic child. And she is not jealous of Dorinda. Thank heaven for that. The little monkey has ideas about Dorinda herself. I won’t be too hard on them when they try and fox me. But about half the time I’ll trash both just to keep their nibbling within bounds. I don’t want Dorinda changed.
Do you think it terrible to whip a girl? Do you? I can only tell you to take your condemnation and go to blazes. If you have never whipped a girl you have never known her. Underneath every feminine facade there is someone quite wonderful that only the whip can release. The whip is a key to a magic door that most people never open.
Terry would be quite impossible of she was not caned frequently. Use a bit of judgement of course. But she is a bundle of mischief, a wicked little sprite who thinks up a hundred ways to twist me. I’m wise to most of them, even though she thinks I’m not. But I’m sure there are still a few she slips over on me. There’s always her tears, of course. They are mostly sure fire. But once in a while I’ll catch her out. She puts on a deliciously convincing act when she knows I’m really going to hurt her.