"Was I selfish? I feel a bitch."
Griselda nuzzled 'Tonia's troubled cheek and rubbed a bare breast against one that was clothed. "Of course you were selfish, darling. But I belong to you. I can't be shared around just because I was getting naughty thoughts about her. You'll have to punish me for that, y'know."
"Oh, don't worry, I will. But I felt sorry for that woman, she's conquered her world, and she's lonely. We had a shocking impact on her. I'm surprised that, with her resources, she's never discovered herself."
"She hasn't discovered herself yet, she's looking in the wrong mirror." Griselda said pensively. "And of course we had an impact. We're not the least bit ordinary, and I teased. Darling, how about using a whip on me this time instead of the crop?"
"I'll use both." Antonia assured absently. "But now I'm wondering what to do if she approaches us again."
"No problem." Griselda was again excited. "You lay down the Law. She gets stripped, tied and whipped within thirty minutes or you don't let her in."
Antonia laughed. "Shouldn't we allow time to give her a drink."
"Alright, forty minutes. I terribly want to see her naked. I bet she's got the loveliest things for me to play with and you to punish."
"But, Griselda dear, think of what she is! She came too far too fast today. I bet right now she's ashamed of herself and tucking us away in a closet."
Griselda giggled. "She didn't come at all, and she really needed to, I longed to make it happen. And what she's thinking of right now is my bottom and my bush.
She'll probably rape her secretary, and it will be all our fault. Oh, and I think I should get a sort of medium punishment for getting sexually aroused over her, don't you agree?"
"I'll decide what you get, you outrageous odalisque." Antonia sighed happily.
"You're adorable. I ought to whip you daily."
"Why don't you?"
"Shortage of skin? though I suppose we could do a sort of rotation. Your bottom on Tuesday, back on Wednesday, shoulders for Thursday. . But then we'd have to move round to your front. You might not mind but I would!"
"Darling, would you really consider whipping my breasts?"
"No I won't! It's a good thing one of has a bit of restraint." Antonia examined a thought. "Griselda, today's been a sort of happening. Would it be the day to take off your handcuffs? It's been a long time?"
"Do you want to?"
"They frustrate me sometimes, like now in fastening you to be punished."
"Mmmmm, what a delicious decision! I can't possibly make it." Griselda clinked and tugged the bands on her wrists, twisting her shoulders to emphasize impotence.
"Decisions are your department, darling."
"Oh sure, and I nearly always decide what you want."
"That's because we both want the same things. I'm not sure about my handcuffs,
'Tonia, they frustrate me a lot more than they do you. But they're a part of ME. It would be a sort of excision." Griselda pul ed even more fretfully, clinking the link that robber her of her hands. "A Case of: 'parting be such sweet sorrow'."
"But is it sensible to rob us both of your hands forever, establishing some sort of a record there's only us to laugh over?"
"We've got an investment already, a sort of vested interest, darling. Way over two months. . ! And I've loved every moment, and I've learned to do so many things."
Griselda giggled. "Did you see Ilona's face when I poured her drink?"
"Oh alright then, you concupiscent mink. We'll go on from day to day, each day another little victory in the handcuff marathon, and it certainly does keep you delightfully damp beneath your bush." Antonia pursed her lips. "I should simply announce the decision to keep you handcuffed like that for the next couple of years.
You wouldn't be a bit happy over that."
"Yes I would. You should try handcuffs, behind your back of course, the effect's meltingly devastating. Oh, 'Tonia, I love my handcuffs. Let's make that a deal? no, a sentence! Two Whole years! Oh, darling. . !"
"You can precede me to the punishment room." Said Antonia stiffly.
Punishment between them was rarely inflicted without a preliminary debate: the instrument, the severity, the binding. The discussion was serious enough towards its end result, but there would be laughter and wave after wave of hot lechery as they plotted their erotic mix. With mock seriousness they debated now.
"Handcuffed like that, I can't possibly get at your back." Antonia complained.
"But there's my bottom, and my thighs, and several bits and pieces!"
"Caning your hands used to make a nice change." 'Tonia mused thoughtfully. "It would serve you right if, instead of your back, I used the soles of your feet."
"But, darling, my bottom's absolutely virgin today. There's plenty of room on it to be punished all you want." Griselda affirmed anxiously. "And as for the soles of my poor feet, you know what I think of that!"
"If I decided to do it you couldn't stop me. That's one dividend I get out of your handcuffs."
"Oh, darling. . !" Griselda's exclamation was loaded with reproach. "If you decided to do that awful thing to my feet you know I'd let you, I'd be obedient. Even without the handcuffs I'd always obey"
She was hugged and kissed by an Antonia repentant for doubt. "Sorry, pet. That was thoughtless."
"Well, alright." Griselda conceded. "But you know me. You've got me excited about my feet. How do you go about whipping a girl's feet? Didn't they call it the bastinado?"
"Forget it, pet, that's not for you."
"But it's a bit of me we've never thought of!" Griselda was intrigued. "And if I stay handcuffed. . ?"
"The pain would be awful, and not a bit erotic."
"How d'you know?"
"I've read about it. People limp afterwards, or can't walk at all."
Griselda pouted. "I read about it too. It said the lucky girl got the bottoms of her feet rapped with limber wands, not hard enough to damage, but after a couple of hours she gets awfully cheesed off with the constant attention."
"Fine. Now we both know all about it. I won't do it to you."
"Another time, maybe? A 'once over lightly' so's we find out?" Griselda's plea was pensive.
"I'll think about it."
Griselda giggled. "So will I? that's the trouble."
"Very well, if it get's too bad I'll cure you. But not today. Why do you want the whip on your bottom instead of the crop? The crop's much the most suitable?'
"Darling, you've complained so much 'bout not being able to whip my back you've got me thinking erotically about the whip. If you use that short single thong it does a lovely job on me? so long as you don't lap it over my hip."
"I intend to lap it across your hip every stroke. You're a churning bundle of sexuality that needs a lesson."
"Then let's go to bed?"
"I should take you there and drain you so dry you'd come back here for your whipping cold, no erotic surges left to blunt the pain."
"Oh, 'Tonia, Mmmmmm. . "
Antonia Noyes knew what she must do. It was never a good idea to allow her captive to gain the initiative, even in girl talk. From a pul ey above she drew down a hook and inserted it between the steel bands on Griselda's wrists. A moment later the girl to be punished was bending painfully forward with her cuffed arms drawn high behind her back. As her head bent lower and her hair cascaded to the floor, she gasped.
"Tonia, I'm handcuffed. Remember? Not tied with rope."
"Hurt bad?"
"Jeepers, yes."
"Good. Still set on the whip?"
Griselda turned a pink face to peer back and up. "I think I'd like to call this whole thing off." She admitted unhappily. "I don't seem to feel in the mood. Couldn't we go to bed?"
"Later. Not now. When we do go it will be me who has the fun. Your's will be the only tongue used. That's part of your punishment."
"Ohhhhh. . Oh, darling!"
"This the whip you want?"
"Well, it's the one I thought about. But I don't seem to actually want it any more.
Sorry!"
"Griselda, do you always have to quibble? I've heard all this before."
"Weeeel, yes. But if you were in the spot I'm in you'd quibble too. Gosh, 'Tonia, you've bent my bottom tight as a drum."
"The better to whip you, my dear. Want a gag?"
"No, I'll scream. You're terribly unkind."
"Prefer the dungeon, dear?"
"No!" The denial was emphatic.
"I knew you wouldn't. Ready for me to start?"
"Oh alright. I suppose you have to."
It was a most satisfying mark. It leaped across the twin curves like a scarlet beacon. The girl who had placed it there stood and gazed at it's formation into a weal, her heart thudding, her sex aflame. This first mark upon the taut bent bottom was pure beauty. Griselda's foot bent back from the knee, flexing in agony, but she did not utter a sound. Antonia Noyes struck again.
"Ohhhhh. . Oh damn! Oh, darling, d'you have to do it so hard?"
"Of course. You know I do."
"I'm trying not to scream."
"How very sweet! Keep trying."
"Tonia, you're still dressed?!"
"So I am. How thoughtless. It's that woman. . Hold on, it won't take me a minute."
"Please don't hurry. And, darling, when you're bare come and stand by me so's I can pick up your scent."
"No, you're being punished."
"Ohhhh, oh please! It's such a little thing. It would help me with the pain. I think I'm behaving awfully well considering how hard you're belting me."
"Oh alright!" The girl with the whip thrust her pubic hair against the bent head.
With her free hand she grasped Griselda's chin and raised the punished head.
"There, you can see as well as smell. Satisfied?"
"Oh yes, oh thank you! Darling, If you'd help me I'd??"
"No you won't. You're being whipped. No diversions."
"Darling, you're so beautiful when you're naked. Why d'you ever bother with clothes. You're every bit as beautiful as me."
How sweet she was! Innocent even in pride. Adoring and adorable. Antonia's naked breasts were heaving as she again took her stance and swung the whip.
"Ahhhh. . Ohhhh, Oh wow Oh, 'Tonia, I'll scream next time, I can feel it coming." The errant foot kicked at nothing several times before it subsided to the floor.
It was their custom that, no matter what Griselda's punishment might be, Antonia Noyes should be naked for its infliction. Both girls were certain that when the whip was used it struck harder when swung from a bare arm, or that after the heavy chains and the thudding door were locked by a white nakedness the dungeon would seem doubly drear. Nudity became them both, even in their diverse roles. Carefully selecting her target, Antonia Noyes struck hard.
Griselda screamed.
The sound was as satisfying as the thin red lines. Antonia stood, with heaving breasts and absorbed her beloved's paean to her pain. First one bare foot, then the other proclaimed anguish as the slim hips weaved. Above the strained and helpless arms the pul ey creaked and the tether vibrated as the punished girl distressfully fought her bonds in a response purely instinctive. The girl with the whip took a deep, deep breath and cut at the crease between soft thighs and derriere. Antonia Noyes stood, enraptured, while the bound girl screamed.
"You are too beautiful, Griselda. I could whip you forever." She heard her own voice as from far away.
"Oh. . oh. . oh! Oh, darling!" The exclamations came as gasps, pantingly under stress. The lovely bent features looked back, pinkly, "I can't help it, 'Tonia, it hurts so terribly."
"But you are happy."
"Yes. . Oh, yes!"
This time the thong deliberately spent its force upon a hip. Griselda yelped in shock, then screamed. Her bare feet beat the floor in anger as well as pain, her torso heaved and surged within the confines of her handcuffs and the rope. Across her hip the whipweal spawned purple and a drop of blood. When her sounds and motions subsided she asked haltingly:
"Tonia, may I spread my legs?" They both knew why.
"You want an orgasm, Griselda. Why should I give you one?"
"I'll die if you don't. I'm? I'm? oh, 'Tonia, please!"
"Very well. I shouldn't do this. But open up."
The naked feet and naked thighs spread far apart. It was invitation to the greatest agony a girl could know. Antonia measured distance and shrewdly struck up and under into the open crotch.
Griselda's orgasm cut short her scream, converting it to amplified sounds of brutal coitus. Unaware of the agony of her chafed wrists she worked out the spasms and convulsions in a writhing gavotte which left her sweat drenched but still captive at the end of it. When she could again speak, her voice was husky and breathless.
"Thank you. Oh, 'Tonia, thank you so much." Then, in a whisper: "How many more strokes?"
"You must never know that, darling." Said 'Tonia cheerfully, then swung her whip in a wide arc of female joy.
They had a tacit understanding, Ilona had no doubt of that. But the afternoon and Paisley Publications had sapped her courage. The work now placed upon her desk eroded it further. It was first class: letters, drafts, estimates. The girl was good.
She looked up into the serenely beautiful platinum blonde smile in which there were no more reservations now than when she had hired a secretary five hours ago.
"I'm good at this too, Miss Paisley." The young voice was quietly assured. It was also amused, and there was a faint tinge of sly reproof.
"You're damn good, Susan." It was the approving publisher who spoke. She riffled the papers. "I'm more than pleased."
"Will there be anything else, Miss Paisley?"
The girl was trying to help. She must not be told to leave along with the rest of the office because it was five o'clock. Angrily fighting down inhibitions, Ilona contrived coherence: "Yes, of course, the thing we spoke of."
"I wasn't sure." The wise young eyes wel ed sympathy. "You're finding this difficult?"
"Surprisingly difficult, Susan."
The girl nodded. "It shows, and it doesn't need to be difficult, not with me. I should be the one who's shy and awkward, not you." The smile widened. "You're?
you're? well?"
"Yes, I'm Paisley Publications. That's the trouble. I've been Paisley Publications all my life."
"But why have you left. . this, so long?"
"Too damn busy to notice. Then there was an incident." Ilona smiled ruefully. "It shook me enough to go looking for you. Susan, what d'you want out of life?"
"A Mistress. I have to have a Mistress or I'm not happy. I had one but? oh, never mind."
"l do mind. Tell me."
"She was killed in a car crash. Not too long ago. We loved each other. . That's why I'm running around loose."
"Metaphorically? Or did she actually??"
Susan smiled in memory "Both. I'm shockingly at a loose end. But, yes, she did keep me?" The smile became shy. "Well, we can call it 'restrained' if we want to be very proper. Mostly she chained me and kept me naked. It's surprising how many jobs a girl can do when there's a bit of chain attached to her someplace."
Ilona Paisley sighed thankfully. The hurdle was past. They were communicating.
She thought of Griselda and the shackled ankle, the memory flaring heat through her sex. But in spite of it her next question was still hard to phrase: "Did she? Did she punish you?"
"Of course. She was awfully good at it. Would you like to whip me, Miss Paisley?"
"Yes, I would."
"I can tell you've never whipped a girl, Miss Paisley. Don't feel awkward about wanting to. If you don't think you're good at it I'll give you lessons."
"How the devil did I find you, it's miraculous!"
"We're both lucky, Miss Paisley. It's not a bit easy. I'm a natural submissive, and there's a lot of demand for submissive girls, but it's mostly with people who are just plain awful? Ugh!"
"You know so much. Susan, I'm thirty-three, but you make me feel about thirteen."
"You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Paisley. If you'l let me I'll make you a lot more beautiful. You'll find me a very competent slavegirl."
"You use that word: slave?"
"Of course. That's what I am. May I start calling you Mistress?"
"I'd love it. Susan, you're too good to be true. I'm way behind?"
"You must whip me quite soon, Mistress. It will set our relationship. I need whipping often. You've probably noticed how easily I get bossy."
The girl was pure delight. Ilona Paisley recognized good fortune. But, in human perversity, the hand of Paisley Publications still rested heavily on her shoulder. To thrust it far away would need all the moral support she could get. Hesitantly, she laid bare her conscience:
"Susan, this means a new life for me. Much less time in the business. D'you ever get bothered by good old Protestant work ethic?"
"Why should I?" A slender finger pointed at the typescript on the desk. "I can produce as much as most. If you want your slave to be a part time secretary, a chain on my ankle or a collar round my neck won't stop me typing." The lovely young features brightened in amusement. "You could allocate quotas and award penalties."
"Mmmmm. . That's because you're highly intelligent. But let's look on ourselves as ordinary people who are playing out two roles because it heats our pussies. So much of all human existence revolves around the compulsions of our glands? It's something I've always deplored. In you and I creating a relationship, a life together in which we will be constantly sexually aroused, are we diminishing ourselves?"
"You poor dear Mistress, how you do torture yourself!" Susan's eyes danced. "I think you're confusing hedonism with emotional identity. We're not seeking pleasure, we're just trying to be ourselves." Susan stopped short. "Say, am I being a bore?"
"Go on. I want you to."
Susan grinned, her agile mind easily finding words. "Don't you see that, up until socialism, the world was divided into slaves and their Masters and Mistresses. Other names were used, but that's what it boiled down to. Socialism destroyed this human force of gravity, they insisted everyone was, and should be, exactly the same. This left about half the human race out on an emotional limb. Slavery was abolished, they had nowhere to go." Susan giggled, her young girlishness laughing at her words.
"Gosh, Mistress, that sounds stuffy!"
"Dear girl, you should know whereof you speak. You've been a slave looking for a Mistress."
"Well, yes. But money and society will pressure us, at least it will you, into thinking we're playing a role. We have to kill that. We're not acting, we're for real!"
The youthful face was pinkly animated. "That's why we must have restraints and punishments. When you whip me or lock me in a cage it keeps me in my place. In inflicting my punishments you'll do some serious thinking."
"But it's still wickedly erotic, a sexual thing."
"Given the least chance, anything at all involving females becomes erotic. Read the papers: it doesn't matter what happens to anyone of us it comes out sexual."
They gazed at each other in wry amusement. Ilona laughed. "So I could be a better publisher because I whip your bottom?"
"Don't laugh, Mistress, it could be so. I'd be a happier girl because I'd been told what to do and knew I'd better do it or else. It would be a return to civilization."
"When I have that chain on you I'm going to order you to write articles for the mags'. The stuff coming out of your pretty head will sell."
"Oh, yes, I want you to do that." Susan was alight with enthusiasm. "But don't let's make the mistake of apologizing for ourselves by being solely intellectual. If the kitchen floor needs scrubbing and polishing, make me do it. Whip me if I pout."
"Do you realize what you do to my glands when you say something like that, Susan?"
"Of course I do. It works with me too, y'know." Susan grinned confidingly. "I'm frightfully casual with that cute expression: 'whipping my bottom'. But whipping me is something you absolutely must take seriously. If it gives you a wet pussy, that's a bonus. We eat because we must, but we also get great pleasure from it. We mustn't dwel on these coincidentals. Once you start whipping me you'l realize there's a lot more than my bottom, and a lot of different ways and instruments. You use 'em according to the end result you're seeking. It does not matter that the first few strokes wet my puss and make me tremble, that just happens. After they're done with I take my whipping very seriously indeed, just as I've said you'll have to."
Ilona Paisley knew herself under scrutiny. To this lovely creature across the desk she must seem archaic, a pathetic relic striving to catch up lost ground. Action was vital. Pinkly shy, she said, awkwardly: "I should take you home now."
"Of course." The young eyes twinkled. "Or does Paisley Publications have a dungeon?"
Best to keep it light. Ilona chuckled. "I wouldn't keep you in a dungeon all the time anyway. It would be a waste of gorgeous girl. At home I've had a room prepared."
She laughed at the memory: "The lies I told to get the work done. . !"
"I'm ready, Mistress. We can send for my stuff another day. I brought a small suitcase with me. Being a slave girl is awfully handy, y'know? no clothes!"
"You'll come home with me on trust, Susan?"
"Oh, you mean about getting carved up or sold to a brothel!" Susan negated such ideas by a wave of gorgeous hair. "You're not the type, Mistress."
Ilona Paisley wondered if the thudding of her heart could be heard in the elevator.
Its pounding was actually painful. The ride to the underground garage and her private stall was the most pregnantly exciting of her life. Susan reached and held her hand, the platinum beauty was utterly at her ease. If she was being delivered into slavery, no one would know.
In the car, Susan once more advised on what was proper.
"We mustn't drive back like this, Mistress." The younger girl was genuinely shocked. "You must tie my hands, behind my back of course."
"But what could you do! Susan, I mean??"
"I could get out and run. I could push you out and steal the car. Please, Mistress, we have to start sometime."
"But you wouldn't do those things!"
"How d'you know? If you'd just punished me cruelly and I was angry, running would be most natural? You should never give a slavegirl the least chance. Tie me."
"But I can't, I haven't any rope."
"Mistress, please. . !" Susan's tone was almost severe. "Fortunately I've got some cord in my bag."
Ilona accepted the loops of nylon. Stupidly, she admitted: "I've never tied a girl. . or anyone."
"I can tell that. If you fumble I'll try and set you straight."
The cord imparted a new sensation. Ilona ran its length through her fingers, breathlessly conscious of its purpose and her own intent. But she felt only dismay when her insouciant companion turned on the seat and crossed her wrists behind her back.
"Always make me cross my wrists. That tie is the most positive." Susan's instruction were cheerfully patient. "But if you want to tie my elbows too, then you have to tie my hands palm to palm." Susan peeped back over one shoulder and winked. "The elbows are for when you don't trust her, or if she's good at getting loose."
"What do you recommend now?"
"My recommendation is purely selfish, Mistress. You shouldn't trust it."
"Let's have it anyway"
"Since its only cord and will hurt like blazes I'll plump for my crossed wrists."
"Thanks. Now put your hands palm to palm."
"Oh, Mistress!" The long sigh was ecstatic. "That's so much better. I was beginning to wonder."
So far so good! Ilona picked up intense vibrations and returned her own. Feeling inadequate but excited, she passed the cord twice round the passive wrists.
"That's right, just two or three strands. That hurts me if I struggle. But get 'em over and under and round and round. Then cinch 'em through the centre."
Such a sense of power. And such a flame of heat! Ilona tugged, she circled and tugged again. She found the centre and plied her cinch. The soft skin was exquisitely indented by her strength.
"Now make me struggle. Then take up the slack." Susan was heavily involved in what was taking place. "See, like this."
It was pure beauty. Ilona Paisley sighed in happiness and wondered what she would have done without her slave. She patted her work in approval and, grasping strained shoulders, turned their owner back to normal on the seat. "You've forgotten my elbows, Mistress."
Feeling foolish, Ilona turned the complaisant slave around and used more cord.
Susan had been right, the thin stuff did indeed bite cruelly into maiden flesh. She used strand after strand to minimize the pain.
"Now you sort of push my elbows together with your forearms while you pull on the cord." Susan explained helpfully.
It worked. Ilona grasped the technique. When she was finished the two bare elbows were tight together, pinioned painfully.
"You've done better than I thought you would, Mistress." Susan struggled and twisted. "I really don't believe I can get free." She peeped back mischievously. "What about my ankles?"
"You mean I have to tie them too?"
"If the door opened I could leap out and run. Mistress, you have to watch slavegirls, we're tricky."
"Oh alright. If you say so. But there's not much cord."
"You'll find handcuffs in my bag, Mistress. Use them, it will save you bother."
Handcuffs! Ilona's heart leaped. Pictures of handcuffed maidens ran through her mind. She had always wondered why arrested girls were so routinely robbed of their hands when put in the police car. She had guessed at motives. . ! Now she held the bright chrome circlets in her hands.
"They're not meant for ankles, Mistress, but they will go round, just the first or second notch, or maybe tighter while I'm sitting. When I stand the tendons swell."
So many things to know! Ilona clasped hard and managed two clicks. The shining metal was lovely over the sheen of nylon. Susan was now completely helpless. Susan belonged to her. She owned Susan, and there was nothing Susan could do about it anymore. Her breasts were heaving.
"Do you wish to gag me, Mistress? It's considered wise."
"I don't want to. But, should I?"
"You should. There's two in my bag, a rubber ball affair and a band with a rubber phallus. Don't be shocked."
Ilona chose the phallus, it seemed more practical and less obscene than the ball.
By virtue of Susan's uncomplaining cooperation she inserted the beastly prong and strapped it tight. Susan winked slyly and relapsed into the corner of the seat. She had become an exquisite platinum package, totally enslaved.
The woman who had been Miss Ilona Paisley of Paisley Publications started the motor and drove up into daylight.
"This is your room, dear. Ooops, I forgot!" Ilona tugged at straps and took the wet phallus from Susan's mouth. "I had to unlock the handcuffs so's you could walk.
Shouldn't I untie your arms'?"
Susan wet her lips with an impudent tongue. "I'm not supposed to have anything to say about that, Mistress." She explained demurely. "But while you're showing me around I ought to be helpless."
"But your elbows. . ! They must hurt. . '?"
"They hurt terribly. I have to put up with it. Mistress, remember, I'm a slave."
"But I don't want to be unkind?" Ilona felt herself slipping. "Oh well, I'm sure you know?"
The girl with hurting elbows looked around with bright interest. Ilona had the feeling she was looking for something, something seemingly not there. "It's a really lovely room." Susan breathed gratefully. "Are you going to keep me here sometimes?"
"When, it's your's." Paisley publishing sensed hidden depths. "I'm a great believer in a good night's rest."
"Yes, of course?" The lovely young features were still seeking. "Mistress, could I see your room, your bedroom? That would be fun."
It was the same thing again. Ilona felt like the curator of a museum whose visitor finds the dinosaur skeleton less than expected. "You've got a lovely home, Miss Paisley." Susan ventured uncertainly, "But what about the evening. . the night?"
She turned limpid but enquiring eyes upon her uneasy companion. "I mean, am I a nine to five girl? Slaves are supposed to stay slaves all night, y'know"
"Oh dear, you mean there aren't any??"
Susan laughed. "That's right, there's nothing. Not a chain, a ring, a post, a bit of rope, no whip hanging on the wall as a reminder?"
It was Ilona who blushed. "I never even thought? Oh, Susan you must think me so? so?. Well, anyway we can fix things whatever way you want. Just tell me. Oh, and please, don't call me Miss Paisley."
"Poor Mistress!" Eyes dancing, Susan planted a kiss on hungry lips. "I'm afraid there'l be a list. Let me be bossy that long, then stop me cold. You're going to have to punish me unmercifully, I've been running around loose far too long. I do respond to punishment, y'know. I become a sweetly submissive small girl Who's a little frightened and wouldn't say boo?"
"You're sweet now, sweet to put up with my fumbling." Ilona kissed back and patted a captive cheek. "What's the worst deficiency so far?"
"A ringbolt in the floor beside your bed is sort of de rigueur, Mistress. If you're displeased with me or want to sleep alone you lock my collar to it and I sleep on the floor. If you want me in bed with you there should be a shackle somewhere for my ankle, or maybe one wrist. I must never be completely free but, in bed, it's nicer for you if most of me is."
Paisley Publications was busy with pencil and paper. "O.K., Susan, what next?"
"Mistress, we're lesbians. Talking about it doesn't bother me, but how do you want me to put a name on what I do for you as your slave? Do I 'service you' or do I 'eat you'?" The tied girl giggled. "I always think of it as 'nibbling'. I'm terribly good at it."
"Susan, you can see I'm blushing. Call it anything that pleases you. We'll just let it happen. Now, about that collar?"
"Oh yes, it's locked on me always. I have one with my things, or you can buy me whatever you like. There's shops y'know, they have the loveliest stuff?" Susan paused and wrinkled her brow. Her tone was flatly decisive. "Mistress, I do think you should take me to that room?"
Ilona Paisley was trembling, a seething welter of desires. Desperately, she longed to thrust her Publishing House over the horizon of consciousness. It was an intruder between herself and this glowing radiance. She longed to acquit herself well as a Mistress to so willing a slave. She wanted Susan's respect but had not yet earned it.
She wished to enfold this sensual delicacy in hungry arms but was defeated by the girl's bound elbows and wrists, she was too much a novice to believe in the making of physical love when one partner was tightly bound. Most of all she wanted her 'Room'
to find favour. She was proud of her room, and threw open its door with a flourish.
Susan took a slow but starry eyed survey of the compartment equipped to give her pain. Her breathing quickened as she took quick inventory of the things for which Ilona had paid so much in cash and courage. Then, in a gesture of contrition, she sank to her knees before her new Mistress and buried her face in the folds of Ilona's dress. "It's wonderful, you've thought of everything." Her voice was husky with a threat of tears. "And I've been so bitchy and critical and? and snooty."
"You've been sweet, you're always sweet, and I still need help." Ilona grinned shyly.
"The next thing is you can help me whip you."
Susan sparkled, she was a girl-child ecstatic with a promise. "Oh, may I, I do so want to. I'll only tell you things this first time. After this you mustn't let me say a word."
They became two girls having fun in a shared experience. Both were breathless.
Ilona asked questions rather than waiting to be told: "Susan, had I best untie you now?"
"Yes, I have to strip. When we do this next time I'll already be naked and you'l have to fasten my feet, or control me some way when you free my hands. That's a first rule: I just must never be without restraint."
Susan's elbows were cruelly lovely as the Mistress peeled the thin cord from the redly indented skin. "You poor darling!" Ilona was shocked. "This must have hurt?!"
"It sure did. You must remember my elbows, Mistress, they're one of the punishments. I'd sooner be whipped than have my elbows tied all day."
The slender wrists were better. As she unbound them Ilona found no wounds.
They had been well tied. She felt proud, but she still sought knowledge: "If you'd been alone long enough could you have wriggled free?"
Susan laughed. "I can't tell that. Once you've tied a girl's elbows she's had the course. Even a sloppy tie on her wrists doesn't matter, tied elbows defeat everything.
That's something else to remember."
The large well lit chamber designed for punishment suddenly held magic as Susan deftly cast aside the scraps by which she had been covered. Naked, she posed, her voice mischievous: "Like me, Mistress?"
"My pussy's throbbing in agony at the sight of you." Ilona admitted. "But seriously, Susan, you must be one of the most beautiful girls in the world. You're lovely? all the superlatives."
"I am, aren't I! I know I am." The admission was without conceit. The platinum statue broke pose and massaged her rope weals while she talked. "Mistress, unless you have another idea like putting me in those stocks or tying me to that whipping post over there, may I suggest the trapeze bar? It's controlled by a hidden motor, isn't it? That makes it easy for you and stretches me any tension you like. I don't think there's a better way of making a girl vulnerable to be whipped? or more helpless."
"Of course, darling." Ilona pressed a switch.
As Susan's willing wrists were strapped, one to each end of the lowered bar, the two girls were very close, bombarding each other with vibrations and female musk.
Their eyes were meeting easily now, bright with anticipation and an increasing knowledge or each other. When the straps were drawn tight on Susan's wrists, buckled and tested, it was she who suggested:
"You can stretch me to different heights and tensions, darling. Experiment as you whip me, see which one you prefer." There was a breathless pause. "Oh, Mistress, I called you darling? I shouldn't have."
"I liked the sound of it. Call me anything you find natural to the moment." Ilona kissed her rueful slave. "Don't let's be slaves to titles. That word, Mistress, could become a bore. Call me Ilona if you want. I bet the whip will hurt just as much."
"You have to select a whip, Ilona, or whatever you're going to use. . But get my arms up first."
So exquisitely easy! The Mistress clicked the switch and beheld the bare arms rise.
As freedom slipped away, Susan turned and smiled. When the tug of the trapeze on her raised wrists stopped she look up at her captive hands.
"Mmmmm, it will do for a start, Mistress. I'll be able to jig around a bit. But I'm helpless."
Ilona was enraptured, entranced by beauty. "Mind if I ogle a bit, sweetheart?"
She asked reverently. "Not that it would do you any good to say no. I'd look anyway.
You're one of the loveliest things I've ever seen."
"It's a flattering pose, darling, my arms up like this." Ilona circled the nude helplessness.
"You could kick me." She pointed out reasonably.
"Too crude, Ilona. You could then tie my ankles together. That would be too crude too. Besides, you've forgotten the best part. If I kick I get punished. I'm frightfully vulnerable, y'know."
"Keep teaching me, you absolutely delectable creature." Ilona was lost in joy. To think she possessed such loveliness as she now beheld! The bonds gave her power over Susan's nakedness, but Susan's affection and submission were far more powerful arousals. She gazed down at her slavegirl's pubic hair in her first genuine examination.
Susan giggled. "I can't explain it, darling. I must have had an Indian ancestor to get black curls down there along with what I've got up above. I rather like it though
? nice contrast."
"Oh, sweetheart. . !" Ilona stood in erotic contemplation of a new found treasure. "And there's so much of it! You've got a marvellous, wonderful, beautiful bush! I don't mean it overflows. It's all right where it belongs. . But such a rich sheen. . ! And the thick curls."
"Why don't you feel it, Mistress?" Susan giggled. "It does belong to you, y'know?
along with the rest of me. Feel my pussy too, you'll get a wet hand."
Ilona got a wet hand. But she left it there to cup the swollen lips and their secretions. Her breasts were tumultuous. She was suddenly aware of Susan's laboured breathing. "We must stop this." She said firmly. "Another minute and I'l unstrap your wrists and take you to bed."
"Mmmmm oh, darling, me too. But the whip will cure me. It won't please my bottom but it will make my pussy behave herself? oh, and your hand: make me lick it dry."
In a daze of wonder, Ilona Paisley lifted her wet palm to willing lips and beheld a tongue at least twice the size of her own. It was delightfully pink, muscular and competent. She remembered Griselda. Would her own?? In time??
"Oooooo, they're lovely!" The naked beauty looked down to where Ilona had strewn the instruments of her impending punishment on the floor. "I'd love to swish them; you know, get their feel. But I can't. So why not use a riding crop on my bottom and a whip on my back? It will be good practice. . ?"
"Point out your choice, Susan, and tell my why."
A bare pink toe made its choice. Ilona picked up the items chosen and put the rest away. Her heart was pounding furiously.
"The crop's slender, Mistress. It will hurt like crazy but it won't bruise. The whip's not a long one and it's only a single thong. It will be easier for you to control and be accurate with. A long lash curls and cuts sometimes where you don't want it to."
"Like your breasts?"
"Yes. That short one with the slim lashes: that is the one for my breasts if you ever want to whip them."
"Did your previous Mistress whip your breasts, Susan?"
"Not very often. She was sort of in love with them."
"I'm in love with them too. They're out of this world."
"But if you want to whip them, then you must. I don't like having them whipped, but it's one of the punishments. . ! What I mean, darling, is: after today you mustn't let me influence you."
"Ready to be whipped, sweetheart? Want me to start?"
"Yes, oh yes! Hurry! A couple of hard one's across my bottom may stop this orgasm?"
It was quite unreal, a turgid dream. With the lovely slenderness of the crop Ilona struck and struck again with all her strength. Panting, she stood back and surveyed the picture her own hand had wrought.
Susan's nakedness went wild. Feet kicked, hips twisted and swayed, arms heaved against strapped wrists, fingers clenched and then spread wide. From Susan's mouth came sounds. . Suddenly the lovely torso and its limbs tensed in spasm? again?
and then again. . ! The moans changed tempo. When the sweat bedewed nakedness hung limply from the bar a girlish plea for forgiveness came from shamed lips.
"Oh, Mistress. . ! It happened. I climaxed. Oh, damn, I'm so sorry. .
Punish me."
"But it's not your fault!"
"I'm supposed to control it better, to keep them for you. You have to punish me."
"Oh alright, we can say that's what I'm whipping you for. Did I do alright?"
"Ohhhh, Mistress, I don't even know. I just exploded."
"The marks on your bottom are wickedly gorgeous."
"Run your fingers along them, Ilona, I can probably tell."
"Like this?" Ilona traced the angry flesh with sympathetic fingertips. "I feel a brute. But, gosh, they're lovely!"
"Mmmmm. . !" The platinum slenderness writhed in a plethora of sensation.
"Mmmmm:. . Mistress you did well. Ohhhh. . my poor bottom!" Susan managed a grin. "But it says thank you."
"There was a cane. Would you sooner I used that?"
"No. That's the British thing. You use a cane on my bottom when you make me bend over. It's awful."
"How many strokes should I give you?"
"Six on my bottom for this first time, darling. I don't want to cheese you off with my contortions. It hurts shockingly, y'know."
"Ready?"
"Mmmmm. . Four more. You can space 'em out a bit. I'm not terribly heroic."
Ilona Paisley took a deep breath and swung her arm. Never had she felt so involved in sensation. Sensation possessed her. She stared fixedly at the thin red weal forming on Susan's innocent skin, a wound inflicted there by her own hand. . !
Miss Ilona Paisley of Paisley Publications climaxed in the most eruptive orgasm she had ever known. For a long time she quivered under spasm after spasm as she heard her own keening wail blend with Susan's moans. As expressions of physical anguish they were remarkably similar.
"Oh, Susan, I'm? we're both?!"
"We are, aren't we!" The whipped girl laughed at Ilona's chagrin. Their panting gasps had subsided, their loins quiescent. Ruefully, they gazed upon each other and laughed again.
"I'll let you loose dear."
"Whatever for?" Susan writhed cheerfully against her strapped wrists. "I'm O.K."
"But? but? isn't it sort of all over for both of us, for the time being at least?"
"Poor darling!" Susan giggled. "Do you suffer from what the clinical boys call
'post coital depression'?"
"Well. . " Ilona blushed again.
"A mixture of feeling drained and guilty?"
"Well. . sort of."
"Oh, Mistress, you'l have to do better than that. It's in the mind, y'know." Susan giggled and scratched the inside of a bare leg with an agile toe. "I never feel that way for more than a minute. Right now my fire's starting to bum again. Being in the spot I'm in helps, of course. Why don't you take your clothes off? I think you should."
It was a new idea. Ilona examined it. In the course of doing so depression vanished. Doubtfully, she asked: "But does that go along with my role? I always thought?"
"Darling, we're not acting, we don't have roles. You're thinking of jack boots and black leather." Susan was vehement. "But if you want to be classic I believe female slave owners used to disrobe when whipping naughty maids. The idea was they got a less restricted swing with the whip. And there was always the afterwards."
"Afterwards?"
"The poor whipped girl had to service her, silly. You should make me do the same for you. It's a real punishment, darling, because the whipped girl wants it in the worst way, but all she gets to do is give it to someone else."
"You really think we should continue? You've still got three to come with this awful crop."
"Add one. Make it four. I called you silly. Don't ever let me get away with anything like that. I told you: I'm bossy."
"You're wonderful, Susan."
"Yes, I am. Now take your clothes off."
Knowing herself under a spell, Ilona obeyed. Impelled by erotic mischief, she did her strip before the interested eyes of the girl strapped to the bar. With Susan she felt no shyness, only a feminine unity. Without realizing it, she shed years along with her clothes.
"Oh, darling. . !" The youngster's voice was hushed. "Why do you ever wear clothes!"
"You like?" Ilona stretched and posed. "I've never done anything to hurt my figure.
Tell me it's good."
"I'll tell you how good it is. It makes me wish I was free. I'd have a hand between your legs so fast?"
"I'll undo those straps. Oh, Susan. . !"
"No!" The girl undergoing punishment seemed suddenly the elder. "Mistress, you have to control such impulses. I'm your's, you can use me anytime. Right now I'm being punished." Slyly, Susan insinuated: "I thought you were feeling all washed out?"
"Weeee. . Oh, damn!" Ilona ineffectually stamped a bare foot. "This is so new.
You were right about the clothes: I'm horny."
"You're a really terrible Mistress." Susan pouted. "For a successful tycoon, you've got the most un-orderly mind. It would serve you right if I stopped prompting and just foxed you around to please myself."
Ilona pursed her lips. "O.K. Fox me now."
"I can't." Susan giggled. "You called my bluff. You'd best use that crop on my bottom some more. I'm on number four out of seven."
Ilona made the swift backward swing. It was true! A female did shed inhibitions with her clothes. She had never felt so vigorous or so free. With the lithe motions of nudity she cut another vivid etching on virgin skin.
Susan did not scream, she did not kick. Her only tribute to agony was a controlled sinuous undulation to the tune of pantingly suppressed gasps. As the first wickedness of pain subsided she volunteered: "I'll scream next time. But I have to do this now and then just to tell myself I can." She looked back apologetically. "Don't you think you should lift my arms a bit more, Mistress?"
It was easily done. Ilona gasped at the effect. Susan's breasts were taut, her bel y was taut, her rib cage beginning to manifest itself. The girl was superb. Ilona struck the wealed twin curves once more. Susan's scream was the peal of nightingales.
When the seventh mark had been placed upon the tender rounds, Ilona took her tautly stretched slavegirl in her arms. Their kiss came close to a lasting bond.
"Shall I let you down now, sweetheart?"
"Mmmm. . of course not. My bottom's just had the prelude, now you move on to the symphony." Susan rubbed an affectionate cheek against Ilona's.
"But aren't you tired, and your wrists hurting?"
"Of course they are, silly! Ooops, there I go again! I'll tell you how to punish that later. But being tired and having hurting wrists is part of the package, I've been naughty."
"You couldn't be naughty, Mistress. It's one of the precepts you have to remember.
All pretty girls are whippable. Doesn't seem fair to the homely one's."
"You want a rest though, don't you? How about a cocktail?"
"Mistress, you're hopeless. Punished girls don't get cocktails. They're lucky to get a drink of water."
"Just this once, this first time?" Ilona snickered. "I could use one myself."
"Alright, darling. You're sweet. But don't do it again. Slavegirls absolutely must NOT be spoiled."
Ilona Paisley felt like a teenager again. The publisher had vanished. She was a vibrant young woman who held a platinum beauty captive and was about to whip her back. That she would do so under the guidance of the victim herself added piquancy to a situation already incredible. Busily, she slopped the spirits and the mix. The drinks were strong.
"I'll get tipsy on this, darling." Susan opined as she sipped from the tilted glass.
"I'll tell you to do the most atrocious things to me."
"I won't do them, sweetheart."
"Some of 'em sound so innocent you won't know. Look, darling, while I'm still sober can I give you a couple of helpful hints about whipping my back?"
"Go ahead. Your back's very precious to me."
"With a whip you have to sort of get the range. It doesn't matter about the tip snapping on my back, backs are like bottoms they're designed for it, but it's so easy to overlap, and then the tip snaps on my breasts or my bel y or my hip or across my bottom rib." Susan grinned apologetically for being verbose, and took several more quick sips. "If my front has to be whipped sometime there's other kinds of whips, not the one we're going to use now."
"I'll be careful, sweetheart. How about I put your bra' back on? Would it shield?"
"I'm not supposed to wear a bra: while I'm whipped." Susan chuckled. "And my bra' wouldn't even shield my nips."
"Gosh, darling, I don't know how you manage to be so carefree about something that hurts so much."
"The secret is to not believe it will happen 'till it happens. The other thing to watch, darling, is how hard you whip me? there's such a range. . ! Al the way from a love stroke to a slash bad enough to cut me in two."
"But you're going to guide me?"
"Sure I am. But when it gets to hurting bad I may get a bit biased. Watch out I don't cheat."
Ilona did not care. This lovely creature could cheat all she pleased. Susan might be calm, but she herself was quivering at the prospect of what she was about to do.
"How many should I give you?" She asked breathlessly.
"How about ten, Mistress? One extra for calling you silly makes eleven. Hurry up, darling, I'm starting to tremble."
How beautiful she was! How exquisite the white back across which the thin white line turned pink, then red, its skin rising in tribute to the blow she had just inflicted!
Ilona stared at her work in awe, while Susan responded in the, now recognizable, sounds and motions of extreme pain. Choosing the strained shoulders, the Mistress cut her second stripe across their breadth.
After the scream, the futile kicks, and all her acknowledgements of agony had run their course, Susan gasped: "I expect that's about right, Mistress. Gollies, it hurts!
But still. . ! Darling, there's something else?"
"I don't want to hurt you any more."
"It's sort of part of the same, Mistress? oh, and are my marks nice?"
"They're lovely. . redly graphic. They've made me all wet."
"I'm so glad. Now, a bit to each side, there's a ring in the floor. Tie my ankles out to them so as to spread my legs wide apart."
"But what's the need, Susan, you're helpless?"
"Just do it, darling. . Please!"
Ilona obeyed. It was a thrilling enough task. The separation of her slavegirl's legs created a new beauty all its own with Susan's nudity. Her hand automatically went to the damp junction of her slavegirl's thighs. She kneaded it with a wet palm while she kissed its owner's lips.
"Mustn't indulge me, darling, that's enough. Now stretch my arms up some more."
"But, Susan dear, tying your ankles out the way I've just done has the same effect.
You look awfully tight."
"Well, yes I am. But you can give me the other nine quickly and get them over with. I'll scream a lot but that doesn't matter. If you have me stretched so I can't twitch you'l have seen the whole range of this position. Stretched like you're going to do me I'll be in the ultimate helplessness, open for whatever you want to do."
"Aren't I doing enough?" Ilona clicked the switch but almost instantly clicked it back as Susan's nakedness snapped into a tension to make the ropes and straps creak in protest. "I'm going to hurry. Then I can let you down."
"Darling, out of nine strokes slip three of them inside my spread legs. A girl's inside things are gorgeously sensitive, and you can snap one up into my pussy."
"Susan, I can't!" Ilona was shocked.
"Yes you can, and you will. Remember I'm running this one. That's why I had you tie my feet apart, so's you experience the whole range."
"But your pussy! Sweetheart. . !"
"Do it, Mistress, do it!"
Miss Ilona Paisley did it with a joyous competence in which she felt much shamed.
Long afterwards when their kiss ended and their mingled sweat had dried in their embrace, Ilona guiltily exclaimed:
"I forgot, I've left you stretched while?"
"It doesn't matter, darling. It's another Must. You leave the whipped girl as she is for an hour or two to think over her sins and their penalty. It's frightfully potent."
"But you're hurting so terribly??"
"I'm managing to bear it. But, O.K. let me down a little while we talk."
Ilona could not get at the switch fast enough. Happily, she watched Susan's nudity lose its graphic delineation of bone and sinew and return to normal. The bar and its strapped wrists kept the bare arms raised but with elbows bent. Susan could not free herself but the stress was gone.
"I'm longing to see my marks!" The irrepressible Susan giggled joyously. "Please, Mistress, don't keep me here more than a couple of hours."
But the Mistress had sunk to her knees between the slavegirl's spread thighs. In a desperate hunger for female communion her face was buried in Susan's pubic hair.