"Handy to have you naked. Guess where it bites." I could guess alright. In a spasm of anxiety to avoid the ugly thing being clipped on my nipple I stood up again, only to fall back once more, moaning. I longed for hands and arms, but they were no more than a burning misery behind my back. I was cruelly helpless and felt like tears.
"It's a sort of leash, see? I pull, you follow." There was a cord attached to the pair of serrated jaws. I knew that, ordinarily, I would indeed follow with alacrity. But now! "You're asking the impossible," I told Jennie miserably.
"Never know 'till we try, love."
"Please, not on my breast." She was right about my nakedness being convenient. What she did then she did with ease. It caught me unaware. A moment later I was gasping at a fresh pain and looking down between my legs to where the metal clip was firmly biting one full lip of my vulva. From it the cord trailed to Jennie's hand.
"Oh please, please take it off. It's awful! I'll do anything!" The cruelty of its intimacy within my being had me demoralized. Jennie did not bother to answer. She knew what she was doing. I expect she had done it often enough. In response to the tug on my most sacred flesh I stood up and took a step. Talking about pain can be the same sort of bore as harping on the moments and strokes of being whipped. What I was feeling now on my ankles was a whole new dimension, something I had never tried before. It's principle awfulness was the knowledge I could end most of it my sitting down. In other words, I was torturing myself. That the clip on my cunt compelled me to was incidental. I knew, for sure, that given choice of a chair or a chance to run from the house I'd immediately sit on the chair. I glanced back longingly at the cot as I took my second step and gasped at what the wire band did to me.
"See what a brave little girl can do when she tries." Jennie sounded almost sincere. The tension on my leash was minimal. I looked at her with a strange mixture of appeal and wonderment at what I was managing to do. The bathroom was nice. I mean about being washed and my hair tidied more than the other things. Jennie allowed me to sit while she did what she wished with me. I could not do a thing for myself. The ropes on wrist and elbow had become a part of poor little Euphemia. When the tug finally came, I plunged into agony once more. Ashad stood looking out of the bay window at a couple of suburban elms and a ragged sycamore. I was led to the center of the big drawing room and made to stand. Jennie did not even bother to hold my leash. I would not run and I was too scared of authority to sit down. My latest owner turned and appraised me with eyes preoccupied with more important things, probably murder. He nodded in approval at what he saw. I was not thrusting my nipples at him on purpose, the rope 'round my elbows did it for me.
"You are a delightful property, Miss Carstairs." How does a naked girl answer a remark like that? I didn't. "I deplore your status as something more than merchandise." He gave me a lovely insincere smile before adding: "But we're going to have a heart to heart talk now, I'm sure?"
"May I sit down please?"
"No." It was not auspicious, was it! I hurt all over the place. "Please take this clip off my… my-"
"What did Royden say about Sinclair and the options?"
"I don't know. You've got the wrong girl or something."
"Where is Sinclair now? Surely Gyorkos let that slip?"
"Don't you understand? Gyorkos had me kidnapped so I could entertain his V.I.P.'s. Mr. Royden was whipping me for his own pure enjoyment when you came."
"You slept with them both. You heard them talking."
"I didn't! I didn't! Oh please believe me, you must!"
"You are in a good deal of pain, aren't you?"
"Yes. It's awful."
"Yet you invite more?" It was hopeless. I was lost in his disbelief. I moaned in desolation and burst into tears.
"You know what to do, Jennie." He turned once more to the window. Jennie knew what to do. So did I! Only once on the return journey did I pause long enough to get a peremptory tug on my puss lip. Deliberately, I invited punishing pain with each step, but I took them and ended up back on my cot in the cell.
"Well, we got that over with," Jennie said matter-of-factly.
"Now for phase two. Sorry, love." This time the wire was a bit heavier. I couldn't fight. I couldn't do anything except turn this way and that as she directed while she contrived my torture.
"Nice and simple, ducky. Takes a bit of time to get the full benefit."
"Can't you take that beastly thing off the lip of my pussy now?"
"It's part of the picture, love," she snickered. "You may become fond of it." Certainly it was simple. Everything was simple — for her! The rope was peeled off my wrists but left on my elbows. My hands were placed palm to palm and my hurt wrists circled with a single strand of wire. The pliers and Jennie's strong fingers did the rest. When the ends of wire were clipped my wrists were welded together by a band of scorching fire.
"If I knew anything, I'd tell you now," I said heartbrokenly. My hands were helpless behind my back, so it was easy for her to loosen my elbows and put another single length of wire 'round them too. She had to take a bit of trouble to cinch my forearms as close together as she wanted. Throughout the operation of readying my arms for torture I sobbed and pleaded without pride. I had never known such miserable impotence. I was helpless and hopeless and afraid. I kept vowing I'd do anything… I'm ashamed at the memory. But I'd had enough experience with being tied to make a good estimate of what I was in for after the pliers made their final clip.
"You can always get these off, love," Jennie said comfortingly. "You have only to ask and say a few words."
"I can't! You know I can't! If I could, d'you think I'd bear this?" It was not finished. My arms screamed, but Jennie's voice was firm. "Stand up, ducky." I was so obedient!
"Exhale and tuck your tummy in." There was a sort of logic about the wire 'round the narrowest part of my waist. It would hurt cruelly as I breathed or moved. I made my middle as concave as I could, and was surprised at how little wire it took to circle me. By the time it was tightened and snipped at my back it was indented too far into my flesh for me to see. "If I knew, I'd tell," I sobbed. It had become a litany.
"I believe you, love," Jennie assured me unemotionally.
"Maybe tomorrow you can convince Ashad. Then all you have to worry about is who buys you. You can sit down now." Sitting saved my ankles but made the wire 'round my tummy hurt more. I moaned and relapsed full length on my side. But even with the pain I was femininely curious. "Where will I be sold?"
"Could be anywhere, love. Surprised me when I first got in on this. I'd thought slavery was long gone. But it's everywhere. All you need is a great deal of money and a big enough house so you can keep the girl out of sight. I 'spose they chain 'em up or something. It's not all Arabian oil millionaires either, could be in Belgrave Square." That looked after that. My concern returned to the wires by which I was bound. "You're not going to leave me like this all night, are you?"
"Of course."
"But the circulation?"
"Don't worry. We know what we're doing."
"It will cut my skin — I'm sure it will on my elbows."
"It may do. Depends how you struggle. But the customers won't mind. The weals are quite good. They get a hard on over them same as with the whip marks. I tell you, kid, a girl can't win."
"You could let me loose, help me escape. I'd get you ever so much money?"
"Couldn't spend it with my throat cut."
"They wouldn't really kill you?" Jennie shrugged. "They kill the ones they sort of like. If they are really mad at a gal' they slice her breasts off or the fingers of her right hand and, of course, her ears. Sorry, no escape."
"Please don't leave me like this all night." I was whimpering.
"Sorry, love, no choice." She took her pliers and the rest of the wire and went out, locking the cell door and blowing me a girl to girl kiss through the bars. I was alone with what had been done to me. Urgently I sought what ease I could. It wasn't much. The explorations themselves were pure torture, but I had the night to think of. I ended up face down, my breasts flattened on the hard little mattress. Even that way I had to use caution because of that damned clip biting between my legs. If I got it the wrong way on the cot the result drove me wild. My fire had gone out completely. I thought longingly of Yolanda but she was in another world. There was nothing nice between my legs at all. Only that blasted clip biting steadily. Being a prisoner affects a girl strangely. She does silly inconsequential things. The biggest compulsion is to use whatever freedom she may have been left with. The other is to find what solace she can with a finger, or whatever's available, in her puss — that one was out for sure! So I essayed the other, even though it all hurt so bad I wanted to scream. I stood up and hobbled to the bars and looked out into the passage, rubbing my breasts and nipples against the cold steel. I got only the faintest response from them, not enough to compensate for the pain. Next I got up against the door, it was firm as rock. I was captive in more ways than one. Then I knelt down and had a drink from the pan Jennie had left me. By then I'd had enough. After a lot more pain I got myself flat on the cot again and called it a day. I cried myself to sleep. My cheeks were wet all night. " In the morning Jennie was kind in the things she did for me, except for the wires now deep in my flesh. With those she was unrelenting. I had to wear them to my next interview with Ashad. I was a sad and dispirited young female as I hobbled my agonizing way behind my wardress, striving with every nerve and sinew to prevent the jerking of the leash that held my pussy as much captive as the rest of me. But when we entered the big room there came a moment when I forgot my travail. Sitting across from Ashad was a man I knew. It was James Pollard.
"Good morning, Phemie." At the sound of the familiar endearment I almost wept. But the pain re-asserted itself so that I burst out with the first spontaneous exclamation that came to mind. "Are you at the bottom of all this?"
"Mr. Pollard is without guilt." Ashad's voice was cold. "Thanks, old chap." James eyes devoured my nudity and as many of the wires as he could see. Even hurting as I was I longed to do something with my legs that would hide the shameful clip between them from view. "Dammit, man! Do you have to have the girl tortured like this?"
"She is an uncooperative little bitch, Mr. Pollard."
"Well, if there's going to be any discussion you can damn well get those wires and that… that… thing off her." The words were magic. Ashad motioned with his hand in a manner eloquent enough for Jennie. The pliers snipped and snipped and firm fingers relieved my pussy of its enemy. I gasped in an ecstatic mixture of relief and agony as each infliction was peeled from my skin.
"You're a brutal lot. The poor girl's bleeding." Again the magic gesture. Jennie hurried away for a damp cloth. Without permission I sank down on the carpet. While she laved my wounds I stayed there in a sort of blissful coma. When she handcuffed my wrists behind my back it seemed a very trivial indignity.
"Do you have to handcuff her?" James was in great form.
"Come, Mr. Pollard, she is a girl and a captive. Let us be reasonable."
"Well, I suppose…" James was eyeing me anxiously. His concern did me a world of good. Suddenly aware that I was naked and helpless before two men my fire rekindled. It was tiny, but true. After a bit of an awkward silence James said to me with a bit of a break in his voice: "Phemie, things have gone wrong. This is not the way it was supposed to be."