"You're going to shock them out of their socks, darling." Cicely was excited and pleased. "You're a perfect package of contradictions. Look at yourself."
Ilona was already doing so. The big mirror was sending her pulse into a galloping race. She was not believable. "They can't possibly accept me like this." She said breathlessly. "Someone will call the police. . or the men will want to rape me."
"Of course they will, darling! The rape, I mean. Not the police! These people are my friends, hand picked. They'll be expecting something. .! You're my answer."
"I can't possibly! Oh, Cicely, I just can't. . like this with all those people!"
"The alternative is the dungeon and a hundred strokes, darling. You don't want that, do you?"
"Oh, Cicely, you wouldn't?"
"Yes I will, and you know I will." Cicely's voice was loving but incisive. "Smarten up, my little chicken. After the first five minutes you're going to love it."
"They won't. . just look at me!" Ilona wailed. "A Stetson hat, an iron collar, and a pair of riding boots. The rest of me's naked. Everybody will laugh."
"Like hell they will!" Cicely's affirmation was positive.
"You're forgetting your breasts and your gorgeous pubic hair. . and all the rest of you. To say nothing of all our work fixing your face and doing your hair."
"I look like a cowgirl after a cyclone."
"Nonsense! Look, darling, are you going to be awkward?"
"No, I suppose not. I don't want to go in the dungeon. But, oh, Cicely. .!
Oh. . wow!"
"That's my girl! Be nonchalant. They'll adore you."
"And I won't know what to do with my hands?"
"You may not, darling, but I do. Turn around."
"No. . Nooooo! Oh, Cicely, please! Not behind my back, I won't be able to cover anything." Ilona wailed.
"You're not supposed to cover anything, pet. Especially the kind of 'any things'
you've got."
Ilona passively allowed her arms to be taken from her.
She knew herself once more prey to the conflicting emotions she had come to expect: Horror at what she was going to be compelled to do but a delicious excitation at the touch of her mistress's hands. She look a deep, deep breath as her wrists were captured and linked by the familiar sounds and bite of steel, consoling her by the loss of decision in obedience to the woman who held the key. Over all was a radiant joy between her legs.
"There you are, pet." Cicely patted a bare and helpless arm. "Nice and tight. I've used the black one's to match your collar. You look scrumptious."
"I feel beautiful and I feel ridiculous." Ilona tugged fretfully at the newly locked handcuffs. "Cicely, darling, what am I supposed to dooooo!"
"Just circulate, sweetheart. Make all the women green with envy of me and give all the men erections."
"Cicely, will I? have to??"
"No, dear, you don't have to go in a room and let the men fuck you." Cicely assured sweetly. "It's a cute idea, and maybe we'l use it at another party. But that lovely cunt of yours is mine, I'm getting more and more jealous of it."
"Thank you. But I'm still scared? all those people!"
"Only one plane, pet. Maybe twenty guests. They can taxi right into this big yard.
Anyway, you won't be mauled by a multitude. I still think you'll enjoy yourself."
"Can I have a drink, please?"
"No, you're going in there cold. There'll be no shortage of men anxious to offer you sips." The mistress patted a cool bottom. "But let me warn you, darling: Get tipsy and you'l end up in the dungeon, and with a tender rump to boot. So smarten up, you delectable slave. I think I can hear the plane."
Ilona's first reaction to the large and splendid room was chagrin. Her entry did not stop the buzz of conversation, it did not even give it pause. She was briefly noticed by couples by the door, but they nodded approvingly and returned to their talk.
Perhaps they thought her an eccentric guest! The idea was exciting. Obedient to instructions, she advanced and mingled, blushing under repeated scrutiny and bright wise smiles.
"May I get you a drink?"
He was tall, dark and handsome for sure, eyes friendly and admiring, not dwelling unduly on any part of her exposed nudity. Ilona found herself unexpectedly grateful for attention. "I'd love a drink." She admitted. "But I? I don't have any hands."
"No problem." He patted her shoulder in big brotherly assurance. "Don't go away."
He was nice. Ilona lost some of her blush. His regard was intent and amused, and he held the glass to her lips at just the right tilt. His voice was masculine and intimate, reminding her of how little she had seen of such men for so long.
"Guest, or one of Cicely's purchases?" He enquired blandly.
Ilona cocked an eyebrow. "You know all about her, then? I'm a purchase. I never did find out how much she paid for me."
"Cicely Woods is an Institution in Texas." He said thoughtfully. "These affairs of hers are a privilege. She always has a surprise for us. I'd imagine you're today's little bomb."
"I think I'm fizzling. No one notices."
"Don't kid yourself. Right now I can see a Senator, an arab sheik, and a stockbroker assessing your contours. Al the women hate you already, except for Cicely, you're the most beautiful female present."
"My name's Ilona, and can I have another drink?"
"Bruce." He winked. "You've been rationed?"
"I sure have! I could have used a drink, walking in here like this."
"Change nothing, you're perfect." He was back with the drink almost instantly.
While she gulped it greedily, he said, suavely: "D'you mind if I compliment you on that amazingly lush patch of public hair. . and those breasts?"
"Of course I don't mind, Bruce, I'm female. But now I'll be conscious of all three for the next few minutes." She looked up at him wistfully. "Am I really that lovely?
Or is it just that I'm naked?"
"You're lovely. Here, finish this drink. I think you're crowd shy."
"Wouldn't you be if you were like this!" Ilona took the last swallows and asked the question she had to ask:
"Bruce, if I asked you to help me escape, would you report me to Cicely?"
"Of course. We're all under oath to do that. We owe it to her." He chuckled.
"Some of the propositions I've had here. .!"
"I sort of expected that. Are you going to report me?"
"Yes."
"She'll whip me."
"That was a chance you took."
"I don't really want to escape at all. I can't explain that, so don't ask."
"It figures. Cicely's the most radiant female in Texas and the most accomplished lesbian extant? Ilona, are those handcuffs bothering you?"
"No, I'm bothering them. I wiggle at them all the time. I expect it's a reflex, or I'm embarrassed? For sure I don't hope to get loose."
"That collar? It won't come off?"
"No, never. Add a padlock and chain and I become a permanent resident."
Bruce surveyed her soberly. "You're for real, aren't you? Or could you walk away?"
"I can't walk away. I did try, but it wasn't any use. That's when Cicely had this iron collar riveted on my neck. It's something else I can't walk away from."
He nodded, intrigued. "How else did she punish you?" Ilona squirmed. "I don't know yet. It's still hanging over my head."
"You don't seem too worried." He bestowed a charming grin. "Think Cicely would sell you to me?"
The blaze of heat in Ilona's sex was as unexpected as his question. Sold! Bought!
People wanted her badly enough to pay money. Thought of being both marketable and desirable caused the handcuffs to mock her wrists and the collar to burn her neck, her pulse quickened. "I don't think I'm for sale." She said primly. "But thanks anyway, I'm flattered."
"The girl doesn't need money" Bruce mused quietly.
"But I might tempt her with a deal. .!" He tilted the glass to her lips with gentle concern. "I like you, Ilona. I like you a lot."
"It's my nakedness you like, Bruce. If I was dressed and without the handcuffs you wouldn't notice me."
He waved her surmise to the winds. "I've seen a lot of naked girls, Ilona, that impact's gone. But there's a quality about you. I'd make a guess you amounted to something before you were kidnapped? You were kidnapped, I suppose?"
"Oh, sure." Ilona laughed at his perception. "I expect it adds sexual punch to my charisma. I've been properly bound and gagged in the old tradition."
"Don't laugh." Bruce warned. "There's a wickedly potent emanation from you, a radiance. I'd like to turn you round and look at your handcuffed wrists. But we're watched. Not the proper moment."
She liked him more and more. Laughing, she teased:
"Suppose you made a purchase, what would you do with me?"
"First off I'd cane your bottom."
Again the heat! His direct insouciance was enchanting.
But his intent was unexpected. "Why would you do that to me? I mean, to punish me right away?"
"Because you're still too much of your own woman. I'd see it as cementing my possession of you. I've got one of those lovely English canes. . yel ow. . they come from Singapore. I'd bend you over to get the proper stretch on your skin."
"So I hurt more. Yes, I know all about it."
"Hate me?"
"Goodness, no! Why should I?" She twinkled at him mischievously. "I'm a slave, and I know I'm a slave. I know I'll be whipped and caned. . and things, from time to time. The shock factor's over for me."
"And you're feeling quite safe under Cicely's ownership." Bruce wagged an admonitory finger. "Don't underrate me. You and I might just have a date one of these days with a long yel ow English cane. . !" His voice changed. "Look, I've monopolized you long enough. I'm getting signals. Come along."
They were a pleasant middle aged pair, only slightly hardened by wealth. The woman examined Ilona's features, the man looked at her breasts. Bruce's introduction was casual: "Ilona, this is Senator and Mrs. Hardwick. I expect they'l let you call 'em Bill and Marian."
Ilona watched Bruce's departing back in dismay. Marian Hardwick's regard was affably hostile, her husband's frankly lecherous. She did her best to smile.
"You're just what Elmer's always wanted." Mrs. Hardwick got in the first sharp words, no doubt she would also say the last. "Don't mind him ogling your tits, honey.
He's got a fixation about tits. He never did like mine."
"Say, girl, are those handcuffs for real?" The Senator's tone was warm, as for a voting constituent. "Cicely thinks up the damnedest things for these little affairs."
Obligingly, Ilona turned and stood passively while her handcuffs and hands were lingeringly fondled. Mrs. Hardwick snorted jeeringly. "Why don't you ask her if her tits are real, Elmer? She'll stick 'em out for you."
Ilona flushed angrily. "I'm sorry." She said coldly. "If you'l excuse me?" She turned away.
"Hey, hold it!" The senator's voice held authority.
"Marian's getting a dig at me. Look, honey, we called you over on purpose."
"He wants to buy you from Cicely, or a reasonable facsimile." His wife retorted acidly. "Let him get it out of his system, Miss. . whatever you are. He's harmless."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did Cicely actually buy you for cash money?"
Why not be amused! Ilona shrugged away her pique, replacing it with girlish charm. "It actually starts when you get kidnapped." She explained patiently. "Then the kidnappers, you could describe them as brokers, sell you to someone who wants a slave. They whip you until you decide to behave." Her eyes twinkled. "I've become very obedient. So far as buying me, I don't think I'm for sale. But you could ask Cicely."
"She the one who whipped you into shape?"
"I was lucky to have several trainers."
"Huh, this Cicely business! Sounds disrespectful. You use first names with each other?"
"Yes. We thought the Mistress and Madam image overdone, Mrs. Hardwick.
Punishments are so very personal when they come from someone with a real name."
"Hurt more?"
"Yes they do. The pride gets bruised along with my skin."
Mrs. Hardwick's interest was captured. "Damn girl makes sense, Elmer." She conceded briskly. "Here, don't let me hog the talk."
"You wouldn't happen to be the young lady who's getting herself whipped as the grand finale today?" The Senator asked hopefully.
A cold hand touched Ilona's spine, but she forced her voice to be casual. "I haven't even heard of that." She admitted. "I'm only a slave, y'know. There's lots of things Cicely doesn't tell me."
"But it could be you, eh?" He could not hide his hunger.
"Well. . yes. I suppose it could."
"Not too fussy 'bout the idea either, are you?"
He was understating her fear. "To be whipped a little can be terribly exciting."
She said lightly. "But the sort of thing you've described. . Ugh! It could be too awful."
"The girl doesn't want to talk about getting her ass whipped, Elmer." His wife chided with feminine scorn for male insensitivity. She turned to the handcuffed girl.
"I've given him permission to go to the local whore house, but the idiot thinks he'd like something along your lines around the house."
"Same as Cicely." Said Elmer brightly.
"It's not as impractical as you may think, Mrs. Hardwick." Ilona was inwardly chuckling. "A slave like me mustn't be regarded as a person. For instance; if you bought me you should regard me as a pet, a pretty plaything to be whipped or caressed according to your mood. I suppose I could perform some useful chores."
"You're putting me on. You! A pet!"
"Why not! Look at me!" Ilona turned full circle. "I've got a nice body and I'm helpless. I have to do what I'm told."
"You know the first thing Elmer would want you to do." Marian Hardwick hinted darkly.
The nude girl laughed. "You'd have to draw up some terms of reference." She embraced them both in her warmest smile. "It would be between yourselves as to whether the senator fucked me, and at what times, or whether my pussy wasn't to be used."
"I'll be go to hell!" The senator was visibly moved. His complexion had become even more florid.
"And if I was ever de trop or sort of redundant you should have a cage to pop me out of sight, or maybe a nice little cell?"
"First thing I'd do with you is whip that impudent little ass." Mrs. Hardwick affirmed. "You're altogether too damn cool?"
"Is my darling misbehaving?" Cicely Woods's tinkle of laughter took charge.
"Senator, I can see a light in your eye. No, this exquisite creature is not for sale at any price. She is beyond rubies."
"I could swing the Colorado Concession your way?"
"Not even for that."
The senator sighed. "You got too damn much money, Cicely." He cocked a bright and eager eye. "Say, is this little trick the one who gets whipped after awhile?"
"Whipped! Why, senator, as if I'd allow such a thing!" Butter would not have melted in Cicely's mouth.
"C'mon, now. The word's got around."
"You've frightened the poor dear? and she's so sweet?" Ilona was led away by firm fingers towards the bar. She sucked desperately at the straw held to her lips, her eyes bright upon the woman who held the glass.
"Darling, you're trembling?"
"Cicely, it's true, isn't it? What he said?"
"My poor pet!" Cicely's whisper was loaded with love. "Are you terribly frightened?"
"Of course I am. Oh, Cicely. .! Please tell me it isn't true? Please. .?"
"It's true, darling."
The glass was lifted once again for red lips to seek solace from the straw. The slave and her owner were very close, eyes locked, their vibrations merging as one.
When the cocktail was gone Ilona admitted, wryly: "You're right, I am trembling."
"There's a logic about it. Don't you see??"
"It's my punishment? The one that's been hanging??"
"Two birds with one stone, darling. D'you mind?"
"A Roman holiday? Because I ran away?"
"Sweetheart, you put that so well."
"No, Cicely, I don't mind." Ilona's heart was racing. "My pussy's going crazy down there. .! But, darling, to have me whipped in front of all these people. .!"
"It's going to be a beautiful and glorious spectacle. A ritualistic whipping of an errant slave. Darling, every one of us is going to remember it always."
"Me especially." Ilona was holding tight to equilibrium, telling herself she had known she would be whipped and that all the spectators didn't matter. They had already seen her naked. It might be better than to hang by her wrists day after day. . Quaveringly, she asked: "Cicely, is this the whole of my punishment, or is there more?"
"I won't tell you, pet. After all, you were a naughty girl."
"Yes, I know. I? I won't complain. You've really been terribly sweet." Ilona's voice faltered. "Is it too late to ask to have my ankles ironed instead? You did mention it. . '?"
"Too late, beloved child." Cicely kissed her frightened slave. "Ironed ankles, for you, are a bit impractical. You've become a part of my life. Can you see yourself walking around in this room with all that metal on your feet?"
"Oh alright, Cicely, but I sort of had to ask. I'm so damn scared and ashamed. I'll scream and scream? I just know I will."
"Of course you will, darling. Everyone will love it." Ilona Paisley examined the proposition that she would be fastened naked and flogged for the delectation of people like Elmer and Marian Hardwick. Once, briefly, her limbs had been freed and she had run away into the hills. She wanted to be punished for that stupidity, sharing with her mistress a conviction a punishment was just. But all these watching eyes. . ! They would double and treble her agonies. Breathlessly, she pleaded:
"Punish me worse, Cicely, something really awful. Pain between the two of us without them watching?"
"Darling, you're panicking. You don't need anything worse than what's going to happen. Believe me, you don't! But it will be over today. Isn't that better than a punishment that could go on and on and on'?"
"Well. . perhaps."
"As part of your punishment you must now go out and let anyone talk to you who wants to. Be sweet and cheerful and do try and sparkle a bit?"
"I'll try. I've got over the first shrinking embarrassment."
"I know they'l all want to buy you and ask a lot of silly questions." Cicely's voice had become matter-of-fact. "But you can handle that. Oh, and if any of them want to handle your pussy you'l have to let them. They're always curious about how wet a slave gets. Or maybe how dry she manages to say. O.K.?"
"I'll be a good girl."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
It was like 'Sports Day' at school. A pounding heart, the spectators out there waiting, the last minute admonitions. Her owner's voice was urgent: "Darling, except for your collar you're bare. You look so damn sweet. . ! I want you to walk slowly and very erect to the whipping post. Al the guests will be scattered along the way. They'l close in and follow along behind as you pass. You must look at the post and nothing else. Never look at them, make like they're not there."
"Cicely, who's going to whip me?"
"I am. Hate me?"
"No. I'd have hated it to be Nora or Josh."
"I'll be merciless, darling."
"Of course. You must be. And it's O.K. for me to scream?"
"Hold back as long as you can. After that they'll expect it. Away you go, pet. Sorry it's such a long walk but that's part of the ceremony, darling. You're a penitent on her way to the stake."
"Isn't there a final touch you've forgotten, Cicely?"
"Mmmmmm? Why, of course!" Cicely instantly understood "Poor darling. You're going to feel all hands again during the long walk, and it's out of character for you to be totally free. Turn 'round."
This time it was rope. The slave winced but made no sound as her wrists were crossed and the rope bit savagely, far, far too tight. But for that short a time it would not matter. Ilona understood the strictures as a final admonition. She was grateful. Slaves should never be freed, it imposed too great an emotional stress.
Head high, eyes focused on the distant stake, Miss Ilona Paisley stepped out into the sunlight.
This time there was no chatter, no cocktails. No one was blase. As Ilona walked her measured paces she was aware of eyes, they focused and followed. Behind each pair would be an emotion, perhaps a wish: some to hear her screams, to watch her writhe while the weals formed. .! Here and there might be sympathy. To most she could only be erotically contoured flesh punished for their amusement. Approaching her destination, the naked girl beheld Nora waiting, her feet still trailing the heavy links of the ankle irons, her eyes alight with concern. They exchanged smiles of wisdom in their sisterhood of pain.
On each side of the post was a strap and buckle, looped.
To reach them her arms must be raised above her head. Ilona looked at the simple things by which she would be held. Behind her, Nora tugged at the cords so recently knotted. When her hands fell free, Ilona took the few remaining steps and positioned a wealed wrist within each leather circle. Nora tugged again to make the leather bands a part of the woman they would render helpless while she screamed.
Strap and buckle were neat and tidy without loose ends. They compelled their naked captive to face the post, breasts touching the wood to tease pink nipples. When the whip started its play with her she would have a choice of flattening her nudity against the vertical timber or bending back to writhe and twist in pain. "Nothing round my waist, Nora?" She asked in whispered surprise.
"No, Miss, it's more cruel this way. Those straps up above will hold you tight."
The maid's words became tremulous. "Ilona, I'm so glad it isn't me who whips you."
They would have kissed but slavegirls do not kiss in public. Nora stepped away.
It was bad and it was beautiful. Bad only for the strapped girl, but for those who watched she had become twice beautiful, the symmetry of back and buttocks held, in their white innocence, an infinite promise of things to come. Ilona heard the sighs and was thrilled in her trembling, heat flaring within her crotch. She wondered if she would have the courage to thrust her sex against the rough surface and friction it to climax as she undulated beneath the lash.
There was no hurry. Ilona would have to wait for her agony. This was proper and in an old tradition. Her white nakedness was so spotlighted as to reveal even her smallest motion to the watching eyes. She held the stage, so that to tug at her strapped wrists or to thrust her bel y against the post evoked responsive murmurs from the audience. She could not forbear to look back over, a strained bare shoulder from time to time, but it was a restricted view. Palpitating, she studied the grain and splinters in the wood before her eyes. She would remember them always.
The cool sweet fingers smoothing her back and the twin curves below were Ilona's first awareness of Cicely's presence. The gentle loving hands generated waves of ecstasy. The soft voice was tender. "I won't prolong this prelude, darling. I'll soon start to whip you. Are you O.K.?"
"I'm O.K., Cicely." It was an affirmation of love.
"You are more beautiful than ever." The fingers smoothed away hair to allow warm lips to kiss the soft flesh below the iron collar whose weight the slavegirl no longer felt. The beloved voice tinkled laughter: "Maybe not the hundred lashes you asked for, darling?" Then Cicely was gone.
No matter how the strokes are measured, the whipping of a girl takes unto itself an inescapable rhythm. The breathless cringe of anticipatory flesh, the pounding heart. Then the blow itself: strangely it is the least awful of all in its brief moment of impacting within the female skin. It is the wave after wave of the unspeakable, spreading to encompass every feminine secret crevice, that is the true agony. It fades reluctantly to make way for a fresh hope and a slowing of the heart. But while it lasts the restraints are tested to the full by limbs which find, in futile struggles, the only vent a whipped girl can know: that and her screams which sometimes she herself does not hear. And then the panting sweat soaked aftermath, inevitably merging into another fearful dread.
Pain and love! Surely not many whipped girls could be a prey to both! That pain be synonymous with adoration. . ! Was it an anomaly she shared with none! As the straps creaked against her surging arms and her feet kicked helplessly, Ilona Paisley wondered about herself and the woman with the whip. Why, why, why did she love. How could that love endure what was happening now! But it did endure. It flamed more brightly in longing for Cicely's arms. But who could explain love. . ?
No one ever had.
Ilona did not scream for a surprisingly long time. She did not count the cuts on her skin, nor did she set herself a goal. She thrust herself against the post, finding a rough and illusory refuge in the wood as her breathing merged into moans and small feminine cries of desolation as she was lashed. But soon there came the stroke she could not bear. It was no different from the others but told her of an endless going on and on. . ! Her scream was part of anger and part of pain. She pealed it out into the Texas sunlight, not once but twice. As though released from unseen bonds, her body and her limbs abandoned themselves to whatever wild gyrations hurt flesh dictated. Ilona forgot her audience, forgot Cicely. She remembered only the whip. If animal responses gave her easement from its venom she would render them gladly without shame.
Did she lose consciousness? Ilona was never sure.
Certainly, after she had been whipped for what seemed eternity, she retreated into a world of her own wherein she felt the impacts of the whip as the defenders of a castle might have felt the hammer blows of a ram against their massive gate. When the blows stopped she was kissed and tried to return the kiss but could not. She then became the lonely tenant of a vast silence.
The post was friend and enemy. It held,her prisoner but it was something to lean on. It had shared her travail, now she found herself luxuriating against it as sentience returned with a flood of thankfulness that she had been whipped and it was done. If she had to stand thus with her wrists strapped above her head what did it matter! Tentatively, she tried to test herself. She was positive the whip had made her outrageously wet. But her pussy was denied. She could contrive no contortion by which it might be reached:
There was but the one way, to thrust her pelvis against her post while she curled a leg around its circumference. Her Venus mound made contact instantly, and then the soft swelling below. . ! Furtively, she looked at as much of the scene as her strapped wrists permitted. The posture she must use was obscene. But there was no one in sight. In an urgent need she did not try to analyze, she began the hip motions and the thrusts by which she would give surcease to her sex.
Miss Ilona Paisley felt better. The climax had been explosive enough to elicit moans and cries and more sweat. She was at peace. The straps on her wrists did not hurt if she did not struggle. They were broad and snug and would accept some of her weight if she became weary enough to wish it so. She looked up at them from time to time in chagrin that two strips of leather could make her so helpless, but she never for a moment had dreams of freeing herself. She and the post were wedded by a firm bond.
The punished girl's back and bottom were beyond her ken. Any movement told her they were tender and sensitive. She knew she would be shocked if she could see what the whip had done. But she could not see, she could not touch. Her back and bottom were for another time. Certainly she would not sleep on them! She wondered, as she had often done, about the whip. Fiction said the screaming agony went on and on.
But it did not go on and on. It was unbelievably terrible while it lasted but slowly it faded. The shock and the trembling could outlast it. She knew this was why she and others would choose to be whipped rather than endure more lasting penances over many hours or many days. Ilona had just received the most severe whipping of her slavery, but she knew she preferred it to a week of days and nights chained in the dungeon.
She heard the departure of the plane. Cicely's party was over. Soon now someone would come. It was a blissful thought that the straps would be,loosed and she would lower her arms and for a moment stand free. And then. .! This euphoric dream lasted her some little time before she realized it was dusk and night not far away.
Despite herself she shuddered as a frightening loneliness descended with the dark.
She could not get free. . there was no way she could get free.
By the time the Texas night possessed the land Ilona was fighting panic. Cicely might sometimes be cruel but she would not do this to her slave. True, she might leave her thus for the night as an additional punishment, but there would have been a kiss and whispered girl talk before she was left alone in penance. Something was wrong, something was desperately wrong indeed! In atavistic fear she panicked, sobbing and berserk she fought the straps, she fought the post, she pealed out cry after cry for help. But at the end of it the wood remained her only friend, she leaned against it, panting, cheeks tear stained, her wrists as firmly strapped as though she had not moved. Her whipped back made its own contribution to desolation.
Hopelessly, Ilona Paisley slipped back into her own world of unreality, the dazed and hazy place to which the whip had delivered her not long ago. In it she fitfully dozed through the night, the post and the straps giving enough support to make sleep possible. Exhausted and emotionally drained, she continued her cat naps into the morning. She had lost hope.
"Hey, Luke, I've found her."
The stentorian male bellow galvanized the captive into life. Ilona stood erect, her hurt wrists grateful for relief. Peering beneath the bare skin of her captive arm, she beheld Rance grinning at her nudity in lewd satisfaction. Within seconds he was joined by Luke. She could have wished other rescuers but was irradiated by thankfulness even for this unprepossessing pair. "Thank goodness." She gasped gratefully. "Thank goodness you've found me."
"The gal's pleased ter see us, Luke. Hot damn, lookit' that back!"
"And her ass! Hey, kid, how come?"
"I was punished. I'd misbehaved."
"And look at that collar on Her neck! Damn fancy. This Woods dame is quite a lady. Say, honey, ain't you ever in nothin' but grief?"
Ilona tried to smile. "I expect it looks like that. Please undo the straps. . I'm so tired."
"Gal's bin' tied to that post all night, Rance. No wonder we couldn't find her.'
Betcha' that weren't no coyote last night?" He grinned at Ilona. "You do some fancy yowling, kid?"
"I was frightened. I got in a panic. Please unfasten me. I've been here so long."
She endured their fondling of her sex and breasts without demur. It was a small price to pay for freedom. When the straps were unbuckled from her wrists she' slid to the ground, still leaning against her refuge, massaging busily. "Thank you. I'm so grateful. I might have died." She voiced her next urgency: "Where's Miss Woods and the staff?"
"They're O.K., lady, doin' fine."
It sounded as though they had been in an accident and were on their way to recovery. Her next query was cut short.
"What say we take the kid to the house, Luke. Betcha' she could use coffee and the can."
They carried her. Not because she was weak but because she was naked.
Laughing, they allowed her to scurry to the bathroom. When she emerged, washed and refreshed, she slipped into a frock and returned to the kitchen. Once more she felt dazed. Except for the three of them the house was empty.
"Hey, whatcha' put that thing on for!" Luke viewed her covering with disfavour.
"Take it off, pronto."
Ilona was already resigned to paying for whatever these two oafs might do for her, and she knew the coin. Resignedly, she returned to nudity. The hot coffee almost made it worthwhile.
"You're a damn beautiful woman."
"Thank you. Where's Miss Woods and Nora and Josh?"
"Takin' yer right to 'em, gal. How's 'bout a couple o' fried eggs?"
She ate and drank hungrily, thankful for the rough kindness. They watched her every motion. "We ain't gonna' fuck you right off, kid. You had a rough night."
Rance's consideration sounded sincere.
"What yer wearin' that iron on yer neck for?"
"I'm not wearing it, not the way you mean. It's riveted on. I can't get it off." Ilona flushed. "It's something between Miss Woods and me."
"I bet it is!" The remark was cryptic. Luke leered. "How many times a day you eat her cat?"
She did not answer. The food and coffee was fast returning her to life, her mind active. When Rance produced rope and ran it through his fingers while surveying her thoughtfully, she exclaimed: "You don't need that! You know you don't! Al three of us know what you're going to do with me. I'm not screaming?"
"You'll be tied. Don't beef."
He meant it. She could only temporize. "What, right this minute? I'm so sick of being tied. I don't see why you can't trust me?"
"Hell, kid, we like ter' see you with them little flippers crossed behind yer back.
Makes you look damn purty." Luke reassured. "Besides, might stop yer doin'
somethin' foolish."
"Have I got to get up and let you tie me right now?"
"We'd 'preciate that, maam." Rance's politeness was mockery.
Pouting, Ilona rose for the shame they would impose. Sullenly, she stood while her wrists were crossed and tied tighter than need be. While the cords bit at her already chafed skin she wondered, bitterly, why girls were not born with hands fastened thus. . It seemed their natural condition.
"You still concerned 'bout Miss Woods, lady?"
"Of course I am. Where??"
"Even though she ironed yer neck? Seems like ter me?"
"Never mind my collar. I like it. Where is she?"
"Right handy. No need to fret. Come along."
This time the bound and naked girl's trek led to the barn. Luke and Rance engaged in repartee which she ignored. Ilona's first euphoria at release from the post had been displaced by suspicion. Now, the rope on her wrists told her something most definitely was wrong. She had a terrible premonition of what it might be.
"Just a nice friendly visit." Said Luke.
"Everything neat and tidy, and real handy, like." Rance added.
Two bales of hay. On one, Cicely, on the other Nora.
Both were naked. They had been simply but ingeniously bound upon their backs, arms dragged down and forward so wrists could be tied to ankles dragged down and back. Both ties were cinched and held by a rope beneath the bale. In Nora's case her irons had been similarly disposed of beneath the tight packed hay. Their breasts were taut under stress but arrogantly displayed, their pubic hair and splayed thighs were an open invitation, a pillow had been thrust beneath each pair of hips to elevate the vulva above the lower end of the bale. They were perfectly postured for the impalement of their sex. They could not move.
"Real cosy now we've found all three of you." Luke said warmly.
"I hoped they'd miss you, darling." Cicely said wanly. "You'd be better off strapped to the post than in on this deal. Oh, shit!"
"She's a nice piece of ass but damned ungrateful."
Rance explained good naturedly. "We're doin' our best fer her but she's got a fool notion 'bout bein' untied and walkin' around."
"Why not, you bastard?" Cicely demanded. "We're naked. We can't outrun you.
Tying us up this way is just plain mean. It's a beastly way to tie a woman."
"Damn handy fer us, maam."
"Dammit', man, I've got handcuffs, I've got chains and padlocks. I've even got a dungeon. You can screw us to a fare-ye-well and still keep us prisoners without roping us into pretzels. And you don't need to gag Nora, she didn't call you anything worse than I'm likely to."
"Still the grand lady, aincha', Miz Woods."
"I'm not whining: if that's what you mean. You've fucked me and I know you'll fuck me again. I'm willing to look at it as simply one of those things. . I think you're crazy not to let me pay you off." Cicely was straining at the ropes in anger. Her voice still held authority.
"We'll take what you got in the Ranch House, maam. It's 'nuff ter git us far, far away. Now we're havin' us a time with three o' the prettiest cunts I ever did see.
When we can't git it up no more we'll breeze along."
"How long will that be?"
"Can't tell, lady. Never did have three cunts at one time 'afore. . ! Mebbee a week."
"A week, tied like this! We'll be dead!"
"Sorta' doubt that. You're real spunky. Don't worry none, maam, you'l git ter go to the bathroom and you'l git ter eat and drink. Might give yer a shot o' bourbon.
We've sorta taken a shine to you."
"Alright then. Put the other two somewhere safe while you have your fun with me." Cicely was vehement. "I promise I'll be a lot nicer for you if they don't get touched."
"You'll be nice, maam. If you don't, all three of you git's your little asses whipped, but good."
Ilona saw her darling sag. It was useless. The men held all the cards. Three females would service them in bound obedience. Help would come sometime but not soon enough. The privacy of Cicely Woods's ranch hideaway was too well respected.
"You're passing up a million dollars." The richest girl in Texas said listlessly. "I think you're nuts."
"You three gal's worth more'n a million, Miz Woods. Luke and me's wel satisfied."
Ilona had expected a third bale. Instead, she was laid down on the straw and her ankles tied back to her thighs. It was a painful stress on her knees to have her heels digging into soft flesh and to have them bound there by cords that must, of necessity, be deeply indented in her skin. When the knots were tied she found herself with nothing below her knees. Her feet and legs had been taken from her as though by amputation. She lay on the straw, helpless to do other than roll around. The only help she could give her tied wrists was to lay on her side.
"Neat and tidy." Said Rance.
"Still needs a little something." Luke looked around.
"Ah, this'll do!" He took the sawn off broomstick and began to whittle away at both ends. "This here's gonna' be damn cute."
Ilona wanted to curse them but was too frightened. She watched the sharpening of the stick in trepidation, then moaned in desolate protest as one point was thrust against her flesh above one knee, and then her thighs spread far asunder to enable the opposite point to be similarly positioned. When the tension of the spread was released the broomstick held her thighs wide open, each end anchored by its puncturing of her skin. Looking down, she saw her pubic hair flaunting itself like a flag.
"We want to fuck you we take the stick away." Luke demonstrated. A spot of blood above each knee made it easy for him to replace the spreader. Blood marked the spot. "In the meantime yer little pussy gits ter look around."
"It hurts. . horribly."
"That spreads her wide open, you sons of bitches," Cicely protested. There's no need of it. She's helpless anyway."
"Shut up." Luke admonished. "We like it."
Ilona moaned. She now had no choice but to lie on her bound arms. The obscene deployment of her lower limbs robbed her of any effective motion. The pointed stick hurt enough to make her want to cry. She watched their captors saunter from the barn, then turned to her beloved. "Oh, Cicely, you shouldn't be like that, you just shouldn't! It's so terribly wrong!"
"What about you, sweetheart! I'm not sure you don't have it worse."
"Well. . well, I'm. . I mean, I belong to you. I don't count. Oh, Cicely, I can't get loose! Just no way! I want to get loose so much so's I could untie you."
"That makes three of us, pet. I'm thinking of your poor back and dear little bottom. They must be sore as hell. I feel an absolute bitch. I whipped you, but good!"
"Darling, we can't help my back. This isn't your fault. Where's Josh?"
"Locked in a corn crib. No help there. These bastards had things timed perfectly.
Look, see if we can't soft soap 'em into putting us in handcuffs or chains. Being tied like this for hours and hours is murder. The sons of bitches know their knots."
"How many times. .?"
Cicely laughed bitterly. "Four for me, two for Nora. We must have exhausted 'em.
They'd have fucked you by now if they'd had an erection to do it with. Gosh, sex with men is filthy!"
"Suppose they use us so much they lose interest?"
"That's our only hope. Sweetheart, all three of us have to use our wits and our mouths like crazy. Cut 'em down to size so they make their getaway. If and when I get loose I'll have all Texas on their trail. But by then we'l be the most screwed females in the State. . Damn and double damn!" Bitterly, she added: "We'll be lucky if we don't get pregnant."
By noon, Ilona Paisley had been impaled twice. Cicely and Nora once more each.
In the afternoon feminine lips and tongues had to be employed to rejuvenate male genitals. None of the females were children. They did what they must without concern for a fate worse than death. Their principal interest at the moment was in getting themselves chained instead of tied.
"Damned if we ain't hit the mother load here!" Rance exulted after a sexual afternoon. "These gals is good."
"Gotta' hand it to 'em, they're tryin'." Luke conceded.
"Seein' as they'l git screwed steady tomorrow, what say we make 'em a bit more comfortable at night?"
Three female hearts raced hopefully.
"Shit, why not! This dame's got more stuff fer keepin' a gal' in one place than yer kin shake a stick at. No problem."
"I'm goin' ter take the nigger wench ter bed with me. She got muscles in her cunt like yer wouldn't believe. I'll keep her well cinched. Look, Rance, I got me an idea.
How's about we give her majesty the sort of a whippin' she give the one with the collar? I mean, make a big deal out of it tomorrow with the other two watching. It'll perk our pricks up, and she won't be so sassy after."
"Hot damn, you got an idea. Luke, that's a humdinger, I like it." Rance slapped his thigh in glee. "Give her ladyship something to think on."
"Could whip one of 'em every day fer that matter. But the gal' with the collar ain't got much free space."
"Can always whip her cunt. Always bin curious 'bout whippin' a gal's cunt? You know them books. .!"
"Shit, man, we whip's any part o' 'em we gits a notion to. They ain't got nothin'
ter say 'bout it. Good idea this, ter talk 'bout it. Git's their attention."
"Why d'you have to punish us when we're doing everything you tell us to already?"
Ilona demanded.
"Ain't punishment, lady It's just good honest fun."
"It's good honest agony for the girl."
"Ain't she sweet, now! Speaks right out. 'Spose yer can't blame 'em not wantin' ter git their pelt striped."
"Look, boys, here's a sensible idea." Cicely's voice still held its ring. "We'll give you the best time you've even dreamed about if you drop the rope and drop the whip.
Chain all three of us together? we can't run that way. At night lock the chain to anything handy so we stay put. You'll have girls with a bit of life in 'em. The way you're telling it we'll all be half dead."
"Dammit', maam, I like you. You sure do try. I'm a lookin' forward to that whippin' you're goin' ter git."
For the girls it was an impasse, for the men it was the most powerful moment of their lives. Their authority over the triple nudities was absolute. Throughout the afternoon they used their sexual facilities as the mood took them. When night came Nora was taken away to serve her masters elsewhere. Ilona and Cicely found themselves under an intense and amused scrutiny.
"Time for pee-pee and supper, ladies."
Handcuffed wrists, handcuffed ankles! Luke and Rance carried a girl each to the house. There were no struggles, no protests. What was the use! In any case it felt good to be free of the punishing immobility of the barn and the orgasms they had yielded there in shame.
"Let us sleep properly in a bed tonight. . Please!" Supper was done. Dual handcuffs had impeded them but little. Cicely gave her plea everything she had.
"You aimin' ter sleep together or eat together, maam?"
"Can't we forget sex for a moment? You're going to half kill me tomorrow at that whipping post. Let me sleep tonight?"
"Gal's got a point, Luke. Her ass'll wiggle better under the whip fer a night's sleep.
But nix on the bed."
They were carried back to the barn.
"I suppose we'd better feel grateful, darling." Cicely's cuffed hands were fingering the chain and padlock round her neck. "I think the bastards figure they're being kind." She shrugged dolefully. "Hell, maybe they are."
Ilona's collar had been put to good use. It, too, trailed a chain and padlock.
Bitterly, she saw its anchoring lock would keep her from touching her love. Each of them were attached to one of the barn's vertical timbers. "I suppose the handcuffs don't matter much." She mused ruefully. "We aren't going anywhere."
"With this hardware on our necks they didn't need to cuff our ankles." Cicely sniffed. "And the only reason they make us sleep here on the straw is to rub my nose in the dirt." She sniffed again. "We could figure on being chained apart. No way they's let us get at each other? the sons of bitches!"
"Do we want to?" Ilona mourned. "After what they've done to us. Oh, Cicely. .!"
"Of course we want to, pet. But that's beside the point."
Cicely was still testing the new restraints by which she was made prisoner. "I asked for chains." She confessed bitterly. "So I suppose I can't complain. Two things to do, sweetheart, sleep and watch for chances."
"They mustn't whip you tomorrow, Cicely. They mustn't!"
"How we going to stop 'em!" Cicely paused. "Darling. . being whipped like that. .? It's damn awful, isn't it?"
"It's unimaginable. A girl can't bear it." Realization hit Ilona like a bomb.
"Dearest, you've never been whipped, have you? Not ever in your life? Oh, Cicely. .!"
" 'Fraid not, Pet. I don't expect to enjoy it, or be the noble heroine. They'l make you watch, and I'll disgrace myself."
They sat on the straw, chained, prisoners of the padlocks, looking at each other in dolor. Surveying the morrow, and the next day and the next. .! Unhappily they slept.
Sometime in the night a gentle hand shook Ilona awake. She sat up, startled and afraid. Smiling at her in the gloom was a face she could not believe.
It was Susan Carmody.