"May I speak frankly, Master?" How glorious she was! I nodded regally.
Dorinda knelt before me, her raised eyes amused assessing the possibility of getting her bottom caned if she said too much.
"It's a lot different with Pettie," Terry butted in. Dorinda nodded. "Yes Master. We are afraid you may feel brutal before us two if you do what you must with this absurd girl. She will need very firm and painful treatment. She isn't very nice."
Amazing, aren't they? Think of everything.
Dorinda concentrated. Her words were slow. "We think, master, you may have become accustomed to us. We are slaves. Real slaves. We know we can never escape. We know we must do what we are told." She smiled ruefully. "It took a lot of time and a lot of pain to bring us to where we are now. But we will do what you desire. You may tie us or chain us or whip us to your heart's content. We will try and please you."
She paused and grinned in genuine humor. "Pettie Corbin isn't going to be like that at all."
"The thought had occurred," I admitted dryly.
Dorinda flushed. "Do I offend, Master?"
I was about to let go some shocking blurb about hou impossible it would be for anyone as beautiful as she to give offence, when I realized I had a position to maintain. "Don't woory, dear girl," I said firmly. "I'll whip you when you cross the line."
"Thank you, Master." She made the three words reek with gratitude. Then gave me a small apologetic smile for what she had to say: "In our slavery, master, we have come to learn that there are two ways in which a captive girl can give joy to men. One is to be submissive and obedient, the other is to fight him with tooth and claw so that he must beat her into acknowledging him master." She looked at me winsomely. We both knew which category I belonged in.
But I wasn't having any. Dammit! I was in the middle of everything I'd ever wanted. I might as well know it all. "I think I'll try a spot of breaking-in." I announced bravely.
"Probably not my cup of tea, but after all there's a sort of noblesse oblige. How'd you two girls like to tie her up on tiptoe with her hands far apart and high?"
"Of course, Master." Was there hidden laughter in the voice?
"Oh… and leave her clothes on, eh."
"Yes, Master." Definitely laughter.
I'll admit I paced the floor feeling a bit of an ass. I'd have been just as happy if old rabin had taken his Pettie Corbin somewhere else. From the sounds that were reaching me in considerable volume I suspected my two girls were probably feeling the same. Pettie was meeting her Waterloo noisily. When my slave girls returned they were panting and arranging their hair. "She's an absolute demon, Master," Terry said with feeling.
"We think you'll find her positioned to your liking, Master," Dorinda said demurely.
I had no doubts on that score, and was about to embark on my impersonation of the Duke of Wellington when two girlish voices asked: "What about us, Master?" I detected sadness and pique.
Damn difficult, y'know? Figure it for yourself. Worse than having three wives. Wives don't expect much from husbands, not after the honeymoon. But with these three damsels I was obligated to play the ruthless Pasha whether I wanted or not. I'd bloody well paid my cash, and they were honor bound same as me. Amazing.
"What would you suggest?" I had a feeling I'd asked that question before.
"We are slave girls, Master. You must instuct us." Gentle reproof!
I wasn't doing too well. I'd have been glad to have em read a book while I dealt with the recalcitrant vixen. But I realised that wasn't the proper drill. And besides, I didn't want them watching or walking in and uot while I was doing a bit of softening up on Miss Petulance. Maintaining my tenuous hold on authority I gathered up two pairs of handcuffs and beckoned in masterful fashion. Leading the way to a room notable for its total absence of Pettie I snapped the cuff round Dorinda's right wrist and clasped the other one to a ringbolt in the wall. Then did the same for Terry on the opposite side. There they stood, Captive by a wrist. About as innocuous an imposition as I could devise. But no matter how they tugged or twisted they could not get away. They would await their master's return as slave girls should.
"Thank you, Master." Their litling voices followed me as I shut the door.
Miss Corbin eyed me with disfavor. She was beautifully tethered. The girls had done a marvellous job. She was well up on her toes, her arms strained upwards. She was a pretty picture, but I did not tell her so. I could see her wrists were hurting.
"Fuck off," said my guest in welcome.
I stood in majestic mastery. It was a lovely feeling. I smiled to show tolerance.
"Look here," said Petulance, evidently having done a bit of thinking, "you've got me. I can't get loose from these damn cords that are hurting like Hell. So O.K. I admit I'm a nothing. You can hurt and humiliate me so I suppose I'll say whatever you want me to say. I'll beg. That's what you want… So let's consider it all said. I concede everything. You've won. So now let me loose and i won't press charges. I'll go back to mother and tell her a few things."
Females are incredible! Petulance was looking at me with bright expactancy. I believe she honestly thought I'd buy it. She was spoiled rotten.
"That's not quite the idea," I said gently.
Her face wa pure dismay.
"Your mother mentioned a few preliminaries, y'know."
"You aren't paying any attention to that nonsense, surely?"
"You are grossly overdressed." Talk about cat and mouse! I should have felt a bastard. But I didnt. The remark hit home. She tensed. She'd been thinking about that one too. "Oh very well." Her feigned indifference wa laughable. "I suppose it's something you feel you have to do. You'll find I have nice breasts and there's a good growth of hair round my vulva. They are the main points of interest to sex maniacs, I believe."
I was beginning to enjoy the situation. Pettie Corbin was the sort of girl a chap could whip with an easy concience. Anything you did to dent her massive self satisfaction was a kindness. Confidently I stepped on stage for Act one.
The heel of her shoe narrowly missed my genitals. It still hurt on the thigh. "Five strokes for that little trick," I told her casually.
"Drop dead." She had abandoned sweet reason and returned to normal.
I worked at her back. Her kicks and squirms were ineffectual. My fingers found buttons, hooks and zippers. But first I relieved her of her shoes. Their heels were a weapon.
It hit me all of a sudden. I was about to strip a girl naked. It had taken me one Hell of a while to get round to it. I savored each moment. Let me be honest about it: those moments were damn precious. One more dream come true. The tally grows…
"Well, I hope you're satisfied."
When I circled her and stood out of range of her bare fet my naked captive was actually blushing.
Damned irrittating, but I was too.
"Have I provided you with an erection?" she inquired icily.
"That will be two more strokes," I informed her matter of factly. "You are going to have to learn to curb your tongue."
"Do I get raped standing up or laying down?" she ignored my warning.
"You are now up to nine. Are you sure you're not doing it on purpose?"
"Don't be absurd! Girls haven't been whipped for a century. Forget the whole thing, Buster."
"The word 'Buster'is an opprobrium I cannot endure. It will cost you four. You are now up to thirteen."
She was panting. Never mind her emotions. I expect there was a bit of everything. She glared. Then softened enough to ask in a rational tone: "Are you really serious?"
It was a sensible question that deserved a sensible answer. I realized I'd better get on with the job before she racked up a score that would half kill her. "I am absolutely serious. I am going to start now before you earn more. Remember, keep a civil tongue."