"Say the word and I'll take you back, love."
"It's too late. Azzam has committed me, and if we're going to be married you need Bolling's goodwill. I don't see why you can't keep your job with him if I put in these couple of sessions with rampant and sadistic males. If everybody's satisfied then it's worth a bit of pain." James squeezed me. "You're wonderful, Phemie." He tensed, "But there's still your return to the Sheik. If you go back to your slavery with him there's no wedding bells. If you don't go back there's no job."
"We'll open a hot dog stand," I said with more courage than I felt. James pensively started the motor. Bolling was better than I expected. Large and intense and alive. A girl always feels good in pampered luxury; Bolling had it. I almost disappeared into the soft upholstery of the huge chair. "We won't remove those handcuffs, if you don't mind," he decided conversationally.
"I love wearing them, Mr. Bolling." It was half truth and half sarcasm. He eyed me with approval. "You have a lovely figure, Miss Carstairs." Then added: "Quite remarkably decorated."
"I didn't love much of that."
"Ah! Now, how about a drink?"
"You'll have to feed it to me, y'know. I've got no hands."
"How charming!" He was pleased with me.
"I took a very large sip and looked up into his eyes. "Am I going to need this?"
"Frankly, that's what I'm curious about." His smile was disarming. "I've heard all these stories that infer Torquemada would extract nothing from you but a smile of delight?"
"I'll disappoint you. I manage the preliminaries very well, but after that I scream. With someone I don't like I scream from the word go."
"With me?" I had to like him. I winkled. "With you there will be a delay in the vocals." He gave me another drink. I knew he was enjoying me, but the look I got now was quizzical. "I'm a novice, y'know, Miss Carstairs. I'll rely on you for guidance. Do we start out with me giving you a sound whipping, do I hang you up by your toes. Do I get a hot iron? Is there a formula?"
"People seem to like whipping girls," I explained brightly. "That's what happens to me mostly. All those other… er, nice things are a bit of a bother for them. I've never had the hot iron. I'm sure it would be beautiful to have in suspense, but I don't think I'd want it any more than I'd want a tattoo."
"Interesting! You can contemplate the pain but not the permanent blemish?"
"Yes, I suppose that's it. You're not going to brand me, are you?" His grin was reassuring. "I must not send you home damaged. There's a gentleman's agreement. But I'm puzzled: all those whipmarks and you so blithe and cheerful'?'"
"Isn't that why you paid all that money, Mr. Bolling?"
"I'd feel a bit of a cad to put any more on you." I kept silent. There was something in his voice. He looked at me in frank apology.
"Fact is I'm not going to inflict any of these arcane delights on you at all. For my money it's a waste of a nice girl."
"You wish to make love to me, Mr. Bolling?"
"Of course! Who wouldn't!" He brushed the thought aside with an impatient wave of the hand. "But with you I'd see it as sacrilege. You're out and beyond that."
"Thank you, but I'm not really, y'know."
"Miss Carstairs, I have a confession. I'm not going to do anything to you at all." I waited, expectantly but without hope. "I have a daughter." Here it came!
"Dina is only twelve. She has persistently exhibited traits…"
"And I'm to be her guinea pig! Can I have another drink?" While I gulped, and gulped again, he radiated his charm so that I wished it was him I had to please. I looked up doubtfully, "I've never been the plaything of an adolescent, Mr. Bolling."
"Dina will seem more than her age. I need to know how she will react to you and you to her, In short, I need to know if I have a problem."
"Suppose she kills me finding out!" Roland Bolling laughed. "You may even like her." He pressed a button.
"You're really beautiful. Daddy said you would be." Dina Bolling's entranced gaze flickered up and down my nudity." I had risen at her entry and her father's exit. I felt silly, and wished I had my hands.
"I expect you're old enough that your breasts and vagina are fully developed, They're quite lovely, Euphemia — that is your name, isn't it?" Dina was lovely herself. I realized I was seeing one of those rare flowers that blossom early and forever. She was a youthful Eve or Aphrodite, Her poise was inborn. She laughed a delighted girl's laugh. "You like me too, don't you."
"You'll have to tell me what you want me to do, Dina."
"I want to explore cruelty and sexuality, Euphemia. I won't use those other names." She grinned confidingly. "I'm trembling with eagerness. You're so… so… female! Those are whipmarks, aren't they?"
"Yes. I've been whipped a lot lately."
"Is that a hint to me not to! I'll do what I want with you, y'know. I say, why are your arms-?" She turned me swiftly about, "Oh darling, how simply marvellous! You're handcuffed."
"I usually am. It's so I'll behave."
"You mean without them you wouldn't?"
"Sometimes."
"I don't see any key." Her eyes glowed with moppet wisdom, "Would it be… "
"No it's not." I parted my legs impudently. "See for yourself." If I had thought to disconcert her, I failed. She grasped a handful of my hair with one hand to control me and inserted two nimble fingers. "You mean feel, darling. I say, what a lovely big wet cunt inside such a shiny bush." I gasped and made an involuntary bend against the tug on my hair, The fingers knew too much. "O.K. No key!" The small digits quit me as abruptly as they had entered, "You do respond beautifully, Euphemia. Tell me, does being whipped effect you the same way?"
"If it's not deliberately very cruel."
"You're almost helpless, aren't you, with those hand-cuffs?"
"Yes. I could kick but I won't."
"Are you totally obedient?"
"I've never thought about it like that. I suppose I am, but I never really have any choice."
"If I told you to eat my pussy?"
"I would do it. Do you want me to?" Her eager features clouded. "That isn't just what I fantasied about. Wouldn't the really truly Classic thing be for me to subdue with pain?"
"You can do that with me. I'll grovel and scream and plead and promise if you hurt me enough. I'm not a bit stoic."
"Hmmm!" Her small hands darted to my breasts. A moment later I screamed and writhed against thumbs and fingers pinching my nipples with bitter cruelty.
"Oh please! Please don't. Not my nipples!" I screamed again.
"That was beautiful. Oh, Euphemia, I like you!" I moaned and panted; my head bowed. With instinctive accuracy the child had instantly discovered a girl's most innate vulnerability.
"I shall do it to you again, Euphemia." My slave girl reflex made Dina gasp in wonder. At her threat I had obediently stood erect and thrust out my breasts to be punished. But, at the same time, I pleaded. "Please don't Dina, please!"