The first impression was of an incongruity of scents.
Paramount, the barnyard. . hay, animals, straw. But here and there came wafts of Paris: Coty, Aviance, Shalimar. Ilona shook her bowed head dazedly at a restricted view: her own pubic hair, her own splayed open thighs, and a great deal of clean straw on which she was sitting. Memory prompted with a jolt. She could see!
She had vision! Her eyes opened wide in wonder.
"Hello, Ilona Paisley."
The voice began with riding boots and jodhpurs. Expensive! Ilona's rising focus took in a riding crop, negligently draped from the crossed knees of someone sitting on a wooden box, a silk shirt, and the amused features of Cicely Woods.
"I said, hello, Ilona. C'mon, wake up."
As was usual now, everything was wrong. As her head cleared, Ilona took stock.
Cicely Woods should not be there. Neither of them should be in a barn. She herself should not be naked in front of the richest woman in Texas, and she ought to be able to move. But she could not move. Her arms were spread wide along a pole, part of the partition of the stall, her wrists tied tight. Around her upper arms and almost within her armpits were straps, cinching her firmly. They had sustained her weight while she was unconscious. Her shoulders hurt.
"Out of the frying pan into the fire? Poor girl!"
She remembered the voice. Always a trace of mockery, amused, arrogant, coldly angry. No one forgot Cicely Woods. Ashamed of how she must appear before the insolent eyes, Ilona riffled straw with a protesting foot. Resignedly, she demanded:
"Alright, Cicely, what's the deal?"
The riding crop reached forward to touch a naked nipple, then its twin. From there it descended to rearrange pubic curls and insert its tip within closed labia to make their owner gasp.
"They're the deal, honey: tits and twat. The rest of you comes with the package.
Nice!"
"Karamal? That woman??"
"I just happened to drop in, dear. They grabbed a quick profit. I grabbed you.
Always wanted to whip your ass, ever since that first time. Now I'm going to."
"You mean you've bought me, like a slave?"
"Dammit', girl, show a bit of gratitude. You were on your way to a brothel."
There was a cool tinkle of laughter. "Or would you have preferred that to me?"
"Of course I'm grateful, Cicely, and I'll reimburse?"
"You know damn well you won't reimburse anybody, pet. You'll stay tied and chained and well whipped until I sell you to someone else. You can kick any notions of escape, there'll never be any."
"Cicely, you can't do this?!"
"Been doing it for years, honey. Mostly they've been squirming little butts and breasts. Tedious. There's a piquancy about you I'm going to enjoy," The lovely features softened. "Think of it! A leading publisher naked and tied in a horse stall waiting to have her bottom beaten."
"It's been beaten already, and where am I?"
"The ranch in Texas. This barn never sees a horse or a cow, just girls. I have considered breeding some of the little lovelies, but it's a sixteen year cycle. Handier to pay Karamal. Since the Arabs turned Shylock I've been deluged with cash."
"Cicely, you'll go to jail, you can't possibly hide me!"
"Don't be silly. You know better. You're like laundered money, you've been exchanged. No one's going to look here for you. Resign yourself to being a slave, honey. That's what you are."
They looked at each other levelly. Understanding was mutual. "What's my life going to be?" Ilona asked wearily. "What d'you want me for?"
"To thrash."
"What!" The naked woman surged against her bonds.
"Got to you, eh! But that's right. Whenever I'm in a foul mood I'll take it out on you. Remember the whipping boys and girls they used to have? Well. .! To thrash a naked girl's the best pick-me-up I know. You're marked now. You always will be."
"Is that. . all?"
"You know damn well it's not. I may be heterosexual as hell in New York, but here I'm pure Les', so that means you'l get to sleep in a bed sometimes? properly restrained of course. The rest of the time you'l be a maiden in distress, tied, tethered, caged, the whole bit. That scene's always intrigued me. Sometimes I may give you to a man, someone I want to tip or get a favour out of."
"Cicely, it's all cruelty?!"
"No it's not! I'll make sure you get your little cunt nicely frictioned, give you something to look forward to. You'll find trying to escape will give you no end of entertainment. There'll be a few human contacts. It's not all bad. Oh, and you're going to be exercised. I want that lovely body to stay as it is, or maybe refine it even more. You're almost as yummy with your clothes off as I am. You'll be able to see. ."
Ilona Paisley slumped in defeat. Cicely Woods owned half the oil wells in the State. She had always been selfishly implacable. She would be so now. Outrageous as the situation might be, it was cruelly plausible. Cicely would get away with it. She watched her new owner get languidly to her feet and saunter to the open door.
"Cicely?"
"Not now, pet, I'm busy."
"Cicely, please come back. Don't leave me like this?!"
"Don't be a bore, dear."
Watching Cicely depart into the sunlight, Ilona vented her frustrations in a furious battle with her bonds. She could not move either them or herself. She was nakedly free from her waist down, but what good did that do when her arms and shoulders were solidly clamped to a rail! Exhausted, she indulged in the luxury of tears.
Quietly sobbing, she allowed her head to fall forward in despair. As time passed and the ropes and straps hurt more and more she wondered what she had left to live for.
"Miss Paisley, you been crying??"
It was more of the impossible! The bound girl gazed up in astonishment. "Nora??"
"She bought me too, Miss. Seems like money doesn't matter."
"But, Nora, you? you're. .! Oh, you poor dear!"
A hope raised, a hope denied! Nora was as naked as she herself. The maid's feet were chained, metal bands round each ankle and a swirling length of heavy links.
She could not run, and would need to walk with caution. Riveted on her neck was a metal slave collar, snug, and with a ring.
Nora shrugged. "Seems like I've gone back a'ways, Miss. This woman's really something. . ! She's got a whipping post out in the yard-all sorts of stuff. Keeps my neck chained at night."
"But, how come you??"
"Oh, like I am? I'm supposed to look after you. She says I'm a groom. If you're thinking why don't I run off, it's because I can't run, can't walk properly with all this iron. And anyway, there's nowhere to run. This damn place is twenty miles from anywhere."
"Then we're both??" Ilona could not bring herself to say it.
Nora nodded despondently. "That's right. We're a pair of real old fashioned slaves. . except we take our orders different ways."
"You're still my jailer, and you'll still punish me?"
"Seems to be the idea." Nora grinned ruefully. "It's sort of crazy. . you and me now, like this. Look, Ilona, if you don't want to obey me, you just say so right now. I don't want to be mean to you any more. I'll balk. The worst she can do is whip me."
"But, Nora dear, you've never been whipped?!"
"If you can stand it, I can."
"It's awful! Worse than you think. It hurts so terribly! Nora, forget it. Cicely's got us! I'll toe the line. You do what you have to with me, there's no sense in us both getting hurt."
"I'm supposed to do something with you right now."
"O.K. Do it! If it means untying me, I'll stand still for the handcuffs or whatever.
I'm not crazy enough to run. She's probably out there on a horse waiting to rope me."
"First off it's these." Nora took leg irons from the rail.
"Lock 'em on me. I could care less."
Nora obeyed. "These don't have as long a chain as mine, but they do have a lock and key." She explained as she fitted the anklets on unprotesting ankles. "Mine don't have a key, they're riveted, just the same as my collar."
"Cicely does that!"
"No. There's a coloured boy. He does it in the blacksmith shop. And he's no help.
He adores the ground she walks on."
"Gosh, that feels good," Ilona flexed and massaged her wrists and arms. "It's almost worth being tied for."
"You can walk around, Miss. It's not too bad. You want to use the end stall?"
It took a moment to register. The prisoner blushed and demanded: "You mean I don't get to use??"
"No bathroom, Ilona. She says you're part of the livestock."
"But? but? won't it??"
"It's part of Josh's chores. Don't worry 'bout it."
"So he gets to see us both naked all the time?"
"Guess it's part of his pay. He takes a hard look at your pussy, but that's about all.
I bet he's seen a few."
Ilona hobbled to the end stall. Cicely would be laughing: But, at least, the motion was good. She had scarcely been allowed to use her legs for days. Then, as they walked their restricted steps into the sunlight, both girls laughed. The clatter of their chains was too absurd in this latter part of the twentieth century, but chained they were, and that was the end of it. Ilona's spirits rose a notch.
"This is the way she wants you washed." Nora was apologetic.
A bit of concrete. At its centre a post. Coiled ready was a hose. Without demur, Ilona allowed one wrist to be handcuffed to a ring at waist level in the wood. She was ready to be washed.
"You don't have to lock my wrist, Nora."
Nora shrugged. "Orders. And, anyway, the water's cold."
The water was cold. The captive took the proffered soap in her free hand and did the best she could. The hose followed her lather.
"Darling, I'm soaping my hair. But after? it's going to look awful."
"You called me 'darling,' Miss Paisley?"
"Why not! You've been sweet to me."
"Mostly I've been damn mean."
"Because you had to. You still have to. Let's call each other whatever comes easy.
Darling, my hair?"
"I'll rinse it good, and the sun's hot. If she ever lets me I'll fix it properly."
The prisoner avoided questions and answers. What was going to happen would happen regardless. It would be best to take one thing at a time. No matter what Nora was compelled to do she would be innocent. In docile compliance, she fol owed Nora to another post at another place and raised her hand that it be shackled at the level of her eyes.
"Is this the whipping post, Nora?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry."
"Only one wrist?"
"That's what she wanted."
They eyed each other in dolor. There was surprisingly little to say. Incredible as their plight might be, it had become shockingly credible to the two girls whose feet were chained.
"I'm going to be whipped?" The girl at the post asked quietly.
"Not by me, Ilona. She told me to fix you this way and leave you alone."
The kiss and the embrace were deeply satisfying. The free arm helped. They clung together, lips glued, sisters in distress. When Nora broke away, Ilona watched her receding nudity and heard the rattle of departing chains despondently. The nude Nora was gorgeous, and she had forgotten to tell her so.
Left along at the post, Miss Ilona Paisley examined the shackle by which her wrist was held. It was tight, it was heavy. A horse could not have tugged its ring from the timber. The post itself was starkly menacing and solid as rock. It had been there a long time. She herself would stand there until Cicely Woods decided otherwise. With her hand fastened at the level it was she could not sit down. No doubt her present conjunction with the vertical beam had been cleverly and cruelly thought out. After awhile she would get tired. . !
And the wait! She would probably be whipped, but she could not be sure. It was unlikely she was waiting for anything pleasant. Waiting was an ancient torture for naked girls, especially when tethered. She sighed and thought of the brothel? It would have been less painful. But still. .?
There was little sign of life. A horse in the corral, another barn further away, sundry buildings, beyond a clump of trees she could see the peaked roof of a house.
The yard was extensive, merging into brush and prairie. She pictured herself hop, skipping, and jumping through it with her chained feet. She amused herself for minutes by snubbing one ankle against the other. Leg irons seemed so innocent, yet a girl with her feet so confined could do little but obey. Even if given the freedom to depart, she would do well to hobble a mile an hour. She refused to let her mind dwel on the three girls now in Karamal's brothel. It was just too much?!
It was a long time before Cicely Woods sauntered from the path through the trees.
Waiting, Ilona knew the sensations of the tethered decoy as the tiger caught the scent. The iron on her wrist suddenly weighed a ton, her ankles were weighted with metal. She watched, naked and impotent while her owner approached. Cicely Woods carried a new crop, it was long and slender and thin.
"Enjoying the sun, dear?"
How did a slave answer such a greeting. The chained girl was tempted to respond in negro dialect. She hedged: "It's dried me nicely after the hose."
"Ready to be whipped?"
"Yes."
"Well, well, that's rather nice, dear. Sweet, innocent, and unaffected. You won't mind if I give you a sort of conversational whipping?"
"Not at all. I expect we've a lot to tell each other."
"D'you find the shackle. . trying?"
"Intensely! I expect it's intended??"
"Of course! It imposes a bit of a tax. I mean, darling, how do you dispose your pretty person for the whip, and how much do you wriggle afterwards? I find it delicious."
"I might too, if I held the whip?"
A flash of motion and the scald of fire! Ilona yelped and reached her free hand down to a wealed hip.
"It sets a mood, darling, don't you agree?"
"Yes, of course." The whipped girl wanted to beat her fists again the post and weep.
"Lovely response! Ilona, I've been meaning to ask your age? You're so young for what you were doing. You went up the ladder?"
"I'm thirty-three." The free hand was still rubbing the captive hip.
"Same as me. That's nice! We're quite lovely, aren't we? I'd imagine men still speak of us as 'girls.' Want to see me naked?"
"Yes."
It took but few motions. Ilona gasped. "You're lovely, you've got a gorgeous body."
"The better to whip you with, my dear. This does give more freedom for the swing. D'you mind?"
"Not at all. I expect I'm privileged."
A flash of white, then searing agony. This time across her belly. Ilona's wrist fought the shackle as she bent double.
"A touch of sarcasm, dear? I have to keep on top of such things." Cicely's voice vibrated intense pleasure. "If you like, you can turn your back on me and talk over one shoulder. I'll understand. I think that's what I'd do if I was standing there."
"Thank you? I'll? I'll?"
"And I've been meaning to ask? I bought you while you were blind. You didn't know I was looking. I found those metal thingummys in your eye hollows quite devastating. I purchased them along with your pretty body. Can you see anything when they're fastened?"
"Nothing. Just black."
"Interesting. I understand they saw it as an added inducement for cash when you were in their brothel?"
"Yes."
"I rather like the idea. It makes you so exquisitely helpless. A cunt seeking a Master? or a Mistress."
"They kept me like that a couple of weeks. It was bloody awful."
"But it softened you, didn't it!"
"Yes."
"Suppose I put them on you now, and then I whipped you while we talked?"
Ilona shrugged hopelessly. "Yes, it would be an ultimate cruelty. I can't tell you how awful. Please, Cicely, have a little mercy? I don't want to be blind."
"Poor Honeybunch! Alright, another time perhaps. Since I'm being so humane, how'd you like to stick your bottom out?"
The chained girl turned and protruded her posterior. It was not an easy thing to do.
"Gee, you've got a perfect rump, dear! Tell me how this feels?"
It felt as though she was cut in two. Ilona's scream was tribute to the crop and to the girl who held it. While pain blossomed, she grasped the post as though it was a friend, the fingers of her chained hand clenched, her breasts hard against the wood, an ankle tugged at its connecting links.
"Pure beauty, Ilona. Do turn round."
Fearfully, the whipped girl obeyed. With one wrist held high, she stood dejectedly for what might follow. Meeting her tormentor's laughing regard, she said hopelessly:
"I can't tell you about the pain. It goes beyond words. Unless a girl's been whipped she can never know."
"You respond so sweetly, dear. . Quite touching."
"I know it's fun for you Cicely, but from where I'm at I don't have much to look forward to, do I. If you keep on whipping me I'll want to die."
"Stand still."
Shocked and surprised, Ilona stood while an exquisite nudity welded itself to her's and warm lips absorbed her mouth. Impudent fingers found her nipple while a hand wet itself between her thighs. When she began to gasp in arousal she was suddenly released.
"Like that?" Cicely's query was as impudent as her hands.
"Yes." The affirmative was grudging.
"So! Now you've got something to live for, you silly little idiot? talking about dying. .!"
"Well?"
"I'm only whipping you, y'know. I thought you'd enjoy my conversational whipping. Spaced out the way I'm doing, it's so humane."
Ilona knew herself in a game she could never win. But Cicely in a good mood was better than Cicely angry. Hating her own subservience, she vouchsafed: "I'm sorry, Cicely. It? it just hurts so much I forget. Of course I'm grateful for the way you're. ." She had to swallow hard before the words would come. "For the way you're whipping me."
"Little liar!" The girl with the whip laughed delightedly. "But the way you said that?! It came out real sweet. Darling, is it very cunt crinkling to have to stand there naked, with just one wrist fastened, and to know I'm going to go right on whipping you?"
"It's everything you think it is, Cicely. I want to curl up and disappear."
"Lovely, lovely! Oh, sweetheart, I'm so glad I bought you."
"I'm glad I didn't go to the brothel." Ilona admitted in a surrender to frankness.
"But. . Cicely, please help me in this. . this. . I don't know what to call it. I'll try and not be silly. But? don't hurt me too much?"
"Hmmmmm! Careful with the blarney, kiddo."
"I didn't mean it like that. Oh, Cicely?!"
"Time for another spot of agony, darling." Cicely was brightly helpful. "You know this one's coming, so stand any way you please. . and offer it a nice welcome."
It was the veriest cruelty. Ilona tugged at her locked wrist and longed to flee, to disappear. . anything rather than just to stand and nakedly accept the cut of a whip on bare skin. Wishing she was tightly bound and absolved of decision, she turned and hugged the post with her free arm, her forehead hard against the wood.
"So prudent, dear, and so delectable."
The crop seared Ilona's shoulders viciously. She wept in a bitterness of pain.
"Cry facing me, honey. I want to see."
In shame, Ilona obeyed. She would always obey. She would never again dare not to. She sobbed and sniffed and did the best she could with one free hand. Cicely watched avidly. After awhile, the whipped nudity blurted: "I'm sorry. It? it? it hurts so bad."
"I bet it's worse because you can move around?"
"Yes. It's silly, but yes, I'm sure it's worse. Oh, Cicely, I don't want to be a cry baby. I'm sorry? honest!"
"Sweetheart, I want you to be absolutely natural. I'm enjoying every moment."
"Cicely, can I ask questions? I mean. . without being punished for asking?"
"Why, of course, darling. Why not?"
"When. . when those others had me I wasn't allowed to ask, not anything. I was always being punished."
"Ask away. I may not answer, but I'll be amused."
"There were two others and a girl named Susan??"
"I bet you and this Susan tongued each other. I saw her, she was lush."
"Well. . yes. She's a darling."
"Ilona dear, I only wanted you. The others had no stimulating background, torturing them would have been a bit of a bore. But with you. .! Just think if your staff could see you now!" Cicely chuckled at a delectable vision. "There's always going to be that connotation in anything I do with you."
"Yes, I can understand that." Ilona conceded slowly. "But those others??"
"They're almost certainly being well screwed in some warm climate, darling. I never liked that Noyes female, a couple of hundred hearty fucks will improve her enormously."
"But those poor girls, Susan and Griselda?"
"A waste of time, sweetheart. The young one's are blah. Juicy perhaps, and their first distress diverting, but no depth."
The woman at the post was seeing visions. Her protest was tremulous: "That gorgeous youngster, she was still a virgin, underneath some paunchy bastard in Buenos Aires? being pumped at? pierced?!"
"Gosh, she must have tasted good!" Cicely laughed. "There's no use shedding tears about us females getting pricked between our legs. Its been going on a long time, and some girls even like it. Your little pigeon is probably having the most wonderful orgasms."
The past was done. Ilona Paisley knew she had lost all power to revive or rescue.
She was literally a slave, or more accurately a plaything. Her life was predetermined.
Wryly, she coined an alliteration: 'chains and pains'! Cicely would sometimes be kind but such moments would only emphasize the cruelty. She looked at her wrist, shackled to the post, and again felt the sting of tears.
"I can read your mind, honey." Cicely Woods chuckled.
"You're feeling sorry for yourself. How about another?"
"How do you want me to stand?"
"I do think we should be a bit innovative, darling. I want you to face me this time and sort of stick everything out? and you must watch. No closing your eyes when I swing. Understand?"
"Yes, Cicely, I'll try."
"Sweetheart, you must do better than try. If you blow it we start over, and across your breasts."
The watching was a clever cruelty. The flashing crop slashed Ilona's bel y and lapped across one flank. She paid it tribute with a scream and the rattle of chain.
Her free hand nursed a livid wound.
With the serious attention of a connoisseur, the richest girl in Texas drank in the sight of a girl in pain. She was finding her purchase rewarding, Ilona Paisley was worth the money. She writhed deliciously. When the spasms of distress slowed, Cicely chatted brightly: "Remember we were talking about those blindfold things, dear? I don't seem able to get them out of my mind. I've thought of a lovely idea."
Ilona could feel herself curling up. The lovely idea was not likely to be pleasant.
But she was a slave and had best show willing. "Naturally I'm interested, Cicely."
She said lamely.
"I'll have Nora spreadeagle you someplace, darling." Cicely was alight with enthusiasm. "First off we'd have put those things on you so's you'd be blind. Then we'd leave you awhile to wonder what was going to happen. You'd feel ninety percent pussy with your legs wide open." Cicely giggled. "You wouldn't know whether we were watching or not."
"You're right, Cicely, I'd hate it. I'd be frightened" spread out and not able to move."
"Gorgeous, isn't it! You see, darling, the real kicker is you won't know what's roaming around. There's some livestock and a dog? animals are so attracted by pussy perfume. Then there's Josh! Josh isn't much intellectually but he's wonderful y hung, the damn thing's enormous! And I could always get some other fellows over."
Cicely sighed happily. "And then there's all the things we might do to you without bothering with your cunt at all. Mmmmm, you really would get a bang out of it, y'know? no pun intended."
"I don't suppose there's anything I can say to stop it happening to me?"
"Nothing, darling. You're so lucky."
The two of them were in a strange rapport. In response to a lifted eyebrow, Ilona turned to the post, exposing her back. She accepted the blow with as little fuss as she could manage. The crop was a brute, a hateful intimate thing biting her skin.
Pressed against the refuge of her post, eyes closed, she absorbed the agony as it crept and flashed to every nerve she possessed. She speculated, fearfully, on how many such strokes her mistress might inflict. But when she turned back to face her owner, Cicely Woods was sauntering back towards the house. She was alone with the vertical balk of timber to which her wrist was chained.
It was to be expected that she must stand. Ilona Paisley supposed all owners of kidnapped females thought alike. The impact of waiting at a place of punishment was obvious, as were its advantages. A girl could not be whipped forever, nor could she be tortured without cessation. But the cringing wait in anticipation and the exhausting stand while still quivering from the pain of her punishment were cheap and harmless inflictions without wear and tear on the merchandise. Ilona Paisley stood.
Frustration is a poor companion but the punished woman had no other. The metal band round her wrist was infuriating, it held her as implacably as dungeon walls. She could not stop fingering the bond that clinked back at her in metallic mockery.
And there were her fettered feet! Ilona thought of them, irritably, as 'ironed ankles.' They would hold her captive even though her wrist was free. In this realization she found strange comfort, the philosophy of hopelessness: 'why bother!'
She leaned against the whipping post and explored her wounds to discover the magic of fingertips lightly caressing whipweals as arousingly erotic. Knowing what to expect, the palm of her hand gathered secretions from her sex. She longed for Susan with an infinite longing.
Ilona supposed the dark figure ambling towards the whipping post must be 'Josh.'
There was nothing she could do about her nakedness, she would just have to stand and be ogled. One hand cannot cover two breasts and a triangle of pubic hair. She watched his approach with distaste, a middle aged coloured man with an amiable grin.
"Hi, Miz Paisley." The grin widened. "The name's Josh."
A hand was tentatively offered in greeting but quickly returned to a pocket.
"Hi, Josh. Sorry about not having any clothes." Ilona made it carelessly cordial, suddenly conscious that Josh could do whatever he pleased with her.
"Gals don' wear no clothes here, Miz Paisley. Just the boss lady. She don' wear
'em all the time neither."
"How nice for you! Do have a good look."
"Thanks, maam, I aim to. Mighty fond of cunts. I am. Surprising the way they all come different."
"How interesting."
"Yo bein' snotty, Miz Paisley. You mind if I check them chains?"
"Please do."
"Yo' still bein' snotty." He reproved gently as his big fingers tugged and twisted.
"Yo' chained real nice. Ain't no way yo' goin' ter git loose."
"I've been suspecting that for some time."
"I git ter fuck yo' sometime, Miz Paisley. Yo' lookin' forward ter that?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"Yo' ain't all that hot on the notion. I kin tell by the way yo' makes a fist and pulls on that iron."
"Well, never mind, I don't have much to say about such things."
"I'll jest have a gander at yer twat now, maam' Yo' can't spread them legs much. . but iffen yo' don' mind??"
"Do you have to touch it?" Ilona was suddenly afraid.
No one was in sight, they were alone.
"Don' yo' worry none, Miz Paisley. I don' touch yo' nowheres lessen the boss lady says O.K."
"Very well then." Ilona found it hard to hide relief. "I'll try and help, but with my ankles chained this way?"
"Thass O.K. I gits me down on my knees."
This absurdity was a part of it all, it belonged. A middle aged coloured man peering from below, between her spaced thighs, up at her pudendum. She herself thrusting her pelvis forward for his benefit. Perhaps It was as well they were alone. . !
"Real nice tidy slit yo' got. Miz Paisley." Josh sounded sincerely pleased. "Some gals, even the youngun's, got enough folds ter keep a guy guessin."
"I'm glad you like me, Josh. Are you going to unlock me?"
"C'mon now, Miz Paisley, yo' knows yo' ain't gettin' loose nohow." Josh got back to his feet and scratched a balding pate. "They all tries it though, can't blame 'em really. They all wants Josh ter turn 'em loose."
"You think it's O.K. for us to be chained like this?"
"Sure it is, maam. Yo' knows where yo' at. Hell, if I had a woman no way she'd git no chance ter romp over the hill."
It had been a good try and a relief from boredom. Perhaps she could learn more.
"What does your boss lady do with the other girls she's had here, Josh?" She asked casually. "Are they always chained?"
"Whups their little ass, Miz Paisley, same as she'll whup your'n. Hangs 'em up ter watch 'em wriggle? the way them gals carry on. . !"
"And you think that's O. K.?"
"Sure do, Miz Paisley. Money like Miz Woods got make any thin' O.K." Josh beamed reassuringly. "I think she got somethin' more interestin' up her sleeve for yo'"
"Like what?"
"Dunno', maam. Jest a notion I got."
"What happens to a girl when your boss lady tires of her?"
"They git sent overseas to a whore-house, maam. Or mebbe' she sell 'em ter some guy ter take home." Josh cackled. "They don't git wasted."
"Don't you feel sorry for Nora, Josh? The poor girl's being made to walk around naked and with her feet chained."
"That snooty little pullet! Hell, no!" Josh had evidently met with a coloured rebuff.
"Ah wants ter be there when she git her tight little ass blistered. Right now she got a job tendin' yo'."
"I think you ought to help her escape?"
"Yo' crazy, maam?" Josh was shocked.
"I suppose if I offer you a lot of money you'l go and tell Cicely I tried to bribe you?"
"Sho' 'nuff, that what I do, Miz Paisley."
Ilona sighed. She had expected nothing so was not disappointed. When he produced a piece of dirty string she eyed it with suspicion.
"Yo' mind if ah measures yo' neck, maam?"
"What for?" She knew, but had to ask.
"Ah gotta' forge yo' an iron collar, Miz Paisley. One what gits riveted on and stays awhile. Yo' seen the one little hoity-toity got on her neck. I make 'em real good."
A crude iron slave collar! It would be just the thing to amuse Cicely, a deftly contrived humiliation. Seething with resentment, Ilona stood stiffly while string circled her neck and was duly knotted to mark the spot. Josh returned it to his pocket and offered a farewell grin. "I gotta' go now, Miz Paisley. Be seein' yo' in the blacksmith shop."
Ilona watched him go, feeling small and childish and silly standing there with one hand raised as though in greeting to someone who was not visible. Her shackled wrist imposed a demeaning loneliness as if she was a domestic creature of small account, securely fastened while its owner was elsewhere and had forgotten. She had seen dogs in this forlorn plight. But dogs were allowed to lay down and sleep away their tethered captivity. For her there was standing only. Suppose Cicely left her to stand there through the night! It was by no means improbable.
But in a couple of hours Cicely returned, so did the crop! The greeting was loaded with intent. "Hold out your hand, darling."
"Oh, Cicely, no. .! Please not my hand?"
"Five on your little palm, or ten on each breast, darling?"
Ilona held out her hand.
Unbelievable pain! A hand numb, throbbing and useless!
Its owner, in silent misery, watched her shackles unlocked from wrist and ankles.
Cicely radiated affection. "There you are, dear, a free girl!"
"Oh, Cicely, what's the catch?"
"None, darling. Run. You're free as air. Or do you wish to assault me?"
"You've just made one of my hands useless, and I'm naked, and you've got that damn crop waiting."
"Honey, think of it? freedom!"
But Honey hugged her hand. All she felt was pain.