Drusilla

2 Pain

“You’re up to something,” Diana said pointedly. “There’s a look about you.”

Drusilla tried to erase the look. But without success. She could never hide anything from Diana Winslow anyway, so why try. From beneath the sunshade of the garden umbrella she looked across the Winslow swimming pool to the neatly coiffured Winslow palm. Breathlessly she said: “It’s Bryce. He’s gone crazy.”

“Of course it’s Bryce.” Diana Winslow’s pick-up was always instant. “With you it’s Bryce, with me it’s Hinton. Don’t try and hold out on me.”

“It’s nothing really.” Drusilla strove for diffidence.

“He’s just picked up some weird ideas.”

“Is that why you won’t swim?”

Drusilla flushed. Diana had the damnedest knack!

“Oh, Di’, drop it. I’ll tell you when there’s something... ”

“That dress is two sizes too large.” It was an accusation.

“I know it is. I’ll do better next time.”

“Taken up whoring? Where did you practice that swing of the hips? With your bottom going from side to side like that you should carry a red light.”

“Diana! Oh, Di’, does it show that much?” Drusilla forgot reticence and stepped into the trap of girl, girl confidence.

“Does what show that much?” Diana had scented blood.

“Well—” Drusilla blushed and looked unhappy.

“Want me to tell you?” Diana persisted.

Drusilla sniffed. “You couldn’t. Nobody could.”

“You’ve got something fastened around your tummy.” Diana adjusted conversationally. “Something you’re ashamed of.”

The silence seethed. Drusilla dared not meet the amused regard.

Diana enumerated on her fingertips. “I’d guess it to be a chain and padlock. A strap and buckle that locks. Or a weirdo corset. And I’ll bet you can’t get it off?”

“How could you guess?”

“Don’t be silly, darling. I’m a woman. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“It’s a corset. Oh, Diana, I’m so—!”

Diana rose and grasped her girl friend by the hand. Her words brooked no demur. “This way to the bedroom, darling. ”

Drusilla followed meekly.

“Drusilla! Oh wow!” Diana Winslow backed away to admire the full effect of the miracle wrought by the shedding of the crumpled frock discarded at the feet of the transformed woman who now, before the big mirror, was one huge blush.

“You’re right,” Drusilla said morosely. “I look like an old-time prostitute.”

“You don’t! Oh, darling, never say such a thing. You’re a dish!”

“I’m all hips and tits.”

“Oh no!” Diana was breathless. “You’re all of everything—everything that’s female. Be a sweetheart and take off that scarlet pantie. But don’t touch the garter belt and nylons. Oh, yummy!”

“Diana, you make us sound like a pair of lesbians.”

“Well, aren’t we!” Diana stuck her chin out aggressively. “All females are. I’ll eat you later. For now I’ve got to look.”

“Do you really like it?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

“You’re right about not being able to take it off. There’s a padlock.”

“The perfect hour glass! The Victorians would drool.”

“It hurts—sort of. I can hardly breathe.”

“You must never, never take it off.”

“Oh, Diana, you could at least sympathize. I’d use a knife and cut it off if I dared. But I don’t think—”

“Sacrilege! Don’t ever think of such a thing.” Diana was awed. “Look in the mirror—the way your breasts rise up and your hips! Your nipples are pink above the lace—I suppose there’s friction?”

“Of course there is! It’s embarrassing. I’m always half ready to come. Diana, what are you so damn pleased about?”

“I’m looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. I say, darling, what are those slots for— side and back?”

Drusilla’s blush deepened. “Bryce puts straps through them for my wrists.”

“You mean he actually?” Diana’s eyes were sparkling.

“Yes, he does. He straps my wrists side or back and I can’t do a thing. It’s part of what he calls un-Iibbing me.”

“And you re loving it?”

“No, I’m not!”

“O.K. then! When’s the divorce?”

Drusilla stubbed an exquisitely shod toe in the rug and. contrived only to look bashful. “Well... ”

“Well what?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. It’s so—well—it’s outrageous! ”

“You’re the luckiest woman in the U.S.A.”

“Oh, Di’, don’t tease. You wouldn’t want this instrument of torture cutting you in two.”

“I’d give half my life to have a man do something like that to me.”

“Diana!”

“Don’t sound so shocked. You know what Hinton is. Hinton’s so square you could use him for a building block.”

“At least he doesn’t punish you.” Drusilla looked uncertain. “Does he... ?”

“Of course he does, silly. You’ve seen him go into a sulk sulk—moody as hell. And sarcasms... ! I’d far sooner he made me wear a corset. I say, darling—has Bryce—? Well, has Bryce whipped you yet or something really exciting?”

“Diana!”

“You said that before. But has he?”

Drusilla sniffed resignedly. “He’s bought a whip.” She grimaced at her best friend. “I suppose that thrills you to bits?”

“But of course! Oh, Dru’, you lucky, lucky girl!”

“Diana, don’t be absurd. It’s awful.”

“No, it isn’t! Ask him if he’d like to whip me after he’s through with you.”

“I certainly will. And I hope he does!” Drusilla gazed at her glowing companion with quizzical comprehension. “I never knew... I mean, where did you pick this up?”

“No reason to tell you, darling. You’re such a sweet pussy cat—even though you’re the naughtiest of the lot of us. And who’d have dreamed of Bryce! He and Hinton both vote Republican. You really must have rubbed him raw... Darling, would you like to see something?”

“What?” Drusilla was cautious. “We’ll go and visit Ginny?”

“But she’s your daughter. She lives here?”

“Well, yes... but you may be amused, or consoled, or something. Put your panties back on— if you want.”

“And my dress.”

“No. Not your dress. Give the little darling a treat.”

“But she’s only a child. She shouldn’t—!”

“Don’t be coy. Ginny’s fifteen, and knows more than both of us. Come along, you erotic package.”

For a week, Drusilla had been reserving judgment. She suspected her husband of adroitly managing her. Freedom had been interspersed by penalties that led her to the brink of revolt but never pushed her beyond. She consoled her prides and chagrins by thoughts of a tomorrow when... ! But curiosity had held tomorrow at bay. Curiosity, not only in Bryce, but in herself.

Pandora-like, she had used her first freedom to search, and had met no trouble in finding what Bryce had not bothered to hide. The whip had looked up at her from the drawer with an almost personal air of complacence. It was beautifully new and shiny, wickedly tapering. Beside it lay a set of handcuffs, gleaming and cruel and shockingly provocative. She had been obliged to fight down a lust to fit one round her wrist. She had found in them a shivery delight, a sensuous promise which annoyed yet intrigued. It was the following day that she stumbled on the limber length of the slender riding crop in the hall closet. It, too, had its own personality—waiting.

Ginny said. “Hello, Mrs. Hammill. I knew Mummy would show me to you sooner or later.”

Drusilla gasped. Ginny was naked, a sweetly adolescent nudity. Her wrists were strapped to a bar drawn up above her head so that, whilst not exactly on her toes, her posture was strained and very feminine. The child had twisted to look around a bare raised arm to greet them.

“Hello, Ginny.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, you do look scrumptious.” The pert teenager seemed totally unaware of anything untoward in her condition. “Oh, Mummy dear, can I have a corset?”

“You don’t need one, Squirrel.” Diana Winslow’s voice was placidly maternal. “Tell Mrs. Hammill why you’re like this. ”

“I borrowed the car without asking ... and two dollars! And I was cheeky and sulked.” Ginny’s confession was brightly insouciant. “Now I’m waiting to have my bottom caned... ” Her voice became only faintly coloured by concern. “I’ve been waiting quite a long time.”

“Are you complaining, Ginny?”

“Oh, no, Mumsie!” Ginny’s reassurance was hasty. “Is Mrs. Hammill going to watch my bottom get striped?”

“Do you want her to?”

“I don’t mind. Honest! I expect you’d like to, Mrs. Hammill?”

“Of course she does,” said Diana firmly. “Where did you put the cane, dear?”

“There’re several in the second cupboard,” Ginny said absently as though canes were a small matter in a girl’s life. “I say, Mrs. Hammill, you’re not shocked, are you?”

Drusilla was shocked into inanity. “You mean about you being punished?” she asked bemusedly.

The naked youthfulness giggled. “Not about being punished, Mrs. Hammill. I mean about the way Mummy does it?”

“Oh, the cane!” Drusilla eyed the horror Diana was flexing between her hands. “Well, I’m sure your mother knows best.”

“Mummy loves caning my butt,” the tractioned teen explained without rancour. “That’s why she has this room. She calls it my ‘Playroom.’ Daddy thinks I do exercises and things. He doesn’t bother.”

“And you, er—you don’t mind?”

“She’d better not,” Diana said grimly. “Ready, poppet?”

“Yes, Mother. But please... not too hard?”

“Always hard, Ginny. You know that perfectly well.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“D’you want a go at her, Dru’?” Diana proffered the cane.

“Good heavens no!”

Even as she made the declaration, Drusilla was aware of hypocrisy. Ginny’s small, curved, pink bottom was infinitely alluring. Even though the young slenderness stood straight with raised, tied hands it had a life all its own. Its contours were an enticement. She repressed a surge of longing for the cane with desperate guilt.

“Oh, please, Mrs. Hammill” Young, wide eyes looked back appealingly.

“The saucy minx thinks you’ll hit her lighter than I will,” the maternal voice explained, amused.

“Well, she can give me extra then.”

Drusilla could swear there was hope in the moppet’s plea. “How do you know I won’t hit you a lot harder, Ginny?” she asked, her pulse suddenly racing.

“I just don’t think you would, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny said ingeniously. “Anyway, I’m willing to take a chance.”

“l think I’ll pass, dear.”

“Oh, well,” Ginny sighed resignedly. “O.K., Mother. I’m ready.”

It was cataclysmic. It was beautiful. It was absurd. It was shocking. It was mundane... ! Drusilla heard the cane snicker and cut the air, then beheld the neat, thin bar of scarlet form on the chubby cheeks and raise its proud flesh in acknowledgment of the impact. Ginny’s sweet nakedness vibrated, exuding sensitivity. One of her legs jerked up from the knee... again... and again. Gaspingly, the punished girl accepted stroke two. Her legs, again, making its mute admission of agony.

“Are you able to notice it, Ginny?”

“Oh, Mother!” Ginny’s voice throbbed with hurt reproach. “It’s awful! Much worse than last time. You’re showing off in front of Mrs. Hammill.”

“I’ve got to make you feel it, dear.”

“But you don’t have to cut me in two. Oh, Mumsy... Please?”

“Delightful little moppet, isn’t she!” Diana flexed the cane.

Drusilla knew the adjective inadequate to match the heated surge within her loins. The naked Ginny was pure beauty. A strapped sylph, she was elemental in her agony.

“Please, Mummy dear, not so hard?” The youthful plea was anxious.

“That’s a bit rough on the poor kid, isn’t it!” Drusilla’s protest was insincere. Guiltily, she knew she had no wish for the caning of the impudent cheeks to end, or even to be less severe.

“All right, you give her a few, then.” Diana offered hospitably.

“Please, Mrs. Hammill. I wouldn’t mind. Honest!” Drusilla never knew if it was her own overwhelming need or the naivete or the youngster’s request that gave her the courage to accept the cane. With heaving breasts, she sliced the air in a wide arc. Then watched her own personal brand proclaim itself across the innocent rump.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Hammill.” Ginny sounded truly grateful.

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling.”

Drusilla did better. A fierce new exhilaration set every nerve afire. Her arm seemed endowed with the speed of light. This time Ginny gasped more satisfyingly and her leg paid its homage to the pain.

“Oh, gee, Mrs. Hammill, that was—Woo... Woo... Oooo’” Ginny contrived to mix pain and adoration in a strange blend.

“I bet you’ve done it before,” Diana accused.

“No! Oh, no!” Drusilla denied. “Here, take it back. That’s enough.” She was trembling. “I think it’s enough for Ginny, too.”

The maternal hand took back the instrument of punishment. The maternal voice admonished sternly: “Tell her; Ginny.”

“I have to have ten strokes,” Ginny said politely, her voice a couple of octaves lower than before.

“I think it would be nice for Mrs. Hammill to hear you ask for them, dear. Ask properly.”

Ginny gulped and took a deep breath. Her fingers worked desperately above the straps that fastened her wrists to the bar. “I’ve been a naughty girl.” she declared in a bolstered voice. “So I’ve been sentenced to ten strokes with the cane. I’ve had four ... or I think It’s four,” she amended hopefully. “Now will you please give me the other six?”

“Well done!” Diana sounded proud. “You’re getting off with one light one but I’m not going to quibble.”

“Thank you, Mummy.”

It explained so much. The cheerful teenager everyone liked. The mother-daughter togetherness so often remarked... Or did it? Everything in her world had gone topsy-turvy. Drusilla watched, panting, while number five and six etched Ginny’s skin and extracted Ginny’s gasps When the strapped slenderness lifted itself from the floor in a paroxysm of pain, she felt obliged to ask:

“Don’t you think the poor girl’s had enough?”

“Tell her again, dear.”

The delinquent daughter responded anxiously. “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Hamill. It does hurt quite a lot, so I do silly things and make silly noises. I’m awfully sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, dear. I think you’re wonderful.”

“I know I ought to stand quite still and not make a fuss, but it really is quite painful.” Ginny sounded helpfully contrite. “But I’ve only got four more to go. I’ll try real hard.”

“She’s a good kid,” said Diana with maternal pride.

“Here, I’ll show you something.”

“Oh, Motherrrrrr!”

Drusilla shared the childish embarrassment as Diana cupped her daughter’s sex in a knowing hand and exhibited the glistening wet palm to their fascinated guest. “The little sweetheart actually enjoys every stroke.” she said complacently. “Just bothers her a bit when they land.”

Drusilla eyed the evidence and felt sorry for the girl, who, this time, did not look back over a wrenched shoulder. A moment later it was she herself who gasped in shock as Diana’s other hand slipped inside her panties to make a similar test. Feeling betrayed, she gazed down at a hand that was very wet indeed.

“Don’t play the innocent, darling,” Diana was laughing at them both.

“But it’s all so—so—”

“Incredible?”

“Yes, it is. I mean, I’ve never—never—”

“Never had a daughter to practice on? Don’t worry, Dru’, it works both ways. Wait ’til you get whipped.”

“Oh, Mummy, are you going to whip Mrs. Hammill?”

Ginny was galvanized into vivid excitement.

“I will if she wants me to.” Diana’s eyes were dancing at the interplay. “But right now I’m going to whip you.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ginny stood very straight and very still. The cane smacked home. Ginny neither moved or gasped.

“little Trojan, isn’t she!” Diana exclaimed with pride.

“Lets see if she can stand this one.”

Drusilla wanted to protest, but she was in the grip of a stronger will. This time the caned child responded by the kicking of her leg and a barely audible whimper. The final strokes sent her into wild gyrations against her bindings and the utterance of small, strangled sounds of which she was obviously ashamed.

“That’s the lot, dear. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“She means it, y’know.” Diana said equably. “She knows it’s good for her. You do, don’t you, pet?”

“Oh, yes, Mother.”

“She means it, Dru’. The kid isn’t dissembling. Tell Mrs. Hammill what comes now, dear.”

“I’m left to stand like this and think about what’s happened ,” Ginny proclaimed brightly. “Mummy calls it ‘letting it sink in.’ I expect it does me ever so much good.”

“Aren’t you quite sure, dear?”

“Well, I do get awfully tired.” For a moment Ginny drooped, but instantly brightened. “But of course I’m supposed to. I’m being punished.”

“That’s my girl!”

“Thank you, Mumsie. You’re sweet to me.”

Back at the pool. Drusilla gratefully downed a martini.

“I don’t believe any of this,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe this damned corset that’s locked round my tummy, and I don’t believe you’ve just whipped your naked daughter.”

“You will, darling. Give it time.”

“But—but—” Drusilla waved a baffled hand. “How many people—?” She looked at her smiling companion in wide-eyed appeal. “Have I been living with my head in the sand?”

“Not really. But there’s more than you suppose. They’re the lucky ones.”

“Lucky!”

“Of course. You know the Albertsons. She’s a perfect submissive. He whips her for every fault. When they’re alone together he keeps her chained.”

“Why doesn’t she leave him?”

“She loves it, stupid.”

“What you’re trying to say is that I ought to love it with Bryce?”

“You already are. You just haven’t found out.”

There was between the two women an empathy born of old acquaintance. Drusilla, in a sudden need of sharing, looked Diana squarely in the eye and admitted:

“So, all right, some of it makes me horny. But where does it lead?”

“Couldn’t that be the excitement, darling, the finding out?”

“Suppose it doesn’t lead anywhere, except a lot of discomfort for me?”

“What would you have lost?”

“Where do you fit in, Diana?”

Diana grinned. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I envy you, so I must want what Bryce offers you. I think I’d find the extra fillip—about the threat of divorce, I mean, tremendously exciting. One hell of a turn-on.”

“You mean that old thing about his secretly wanting compulsion?”

“I suppose... ” Diana made a wry face. “But I’ve been carrying around a sort of fantasy. Remember Elaine Neilsen?”

“Of course. She worked with us once.”

“Remember how she had a thing about Europe. Saved her money and took the trip and had a wonderful time?”

“Didn’t something go wrong?”

“Badly! The day before she was due to come home some chap gave her a thousand bucks to deliver a package back here. She took it for a giggle. The F.B.I. picked her up at customs. She’s still doing time.”

“She was an idiot.”

“A nice idiot. Harmless as they come. Happy, lovable. Civilized. Surely you remember the papers? They made a big tarada over the case because Elaine was a pretty girl.”

“But what’s she got to do with... ?”

Diana gestured in frustration. “You may well ask. But the press and T.V. featured so many pictures of the poor girl being led here and there in handcuffs—and sometimes with a chain around her middle so she couldn’t raise her joined hands! It got to me.”

“Sympathy?”

“No, dammit! Pure lust.”

Drusilla remembered the naked girl strapped to the bar back in the house... waiting! Something glimmered.

“Bryce gets a charge out of seeing me like that. I know he does.” She looked at the earnest woman across the table. Understanding came easily. “You mean you’d get a sexual bang out of seeing me handcuffed?”

“I think I’d melt in joy.”

“And that’s the reason you do that to Ginny?”

“Am I a bitch?” Diana looked contrite. “Actually, it’s working out real well. Can’t you tell?”

One more anomaly! But there was no denying Ginny was fine. A girl to be proud of. Drusilla grinned. She began to feel on top of things again. “Bryce bought some handcuffs,” she admitted demurely. “I’ll model them for you if you like.”

“Would you! Oh, darling... !” Diana was suddenly an eager child.

“Of course I will, Di’. But this Elaine thing? Is that all?”

“No, that wasn’t all,” Diana said slowly. “The fact was I couldn’t get her out of my mind—I mean, the visions of her as a chained captive. After knowing her around the office. So normal. So well-adjusted and with so much to look forward to. Young, lovely. Now, here she was, locked in a cell, hauled around in handcuffs wearing a prim little prison dress that was actually damned sexy.”

“But she must have got a fair trial?”

“Oh, sure. But it didn’t do her any good. She was still sentenced. And that’s where the compulsion thing hit me. It still wets my puss when I think of her behind bars. She’s basically innocent. She made one silly goof. Now she’s shut away from life, and love, and... and everything. I wish it were just sympathy I feel. But it isn’t. It’s envy! Can you understand that? Good old green-eyed envy.”

“For a girl in prison!”

“Nuts, eh?”

“A month ago I’d have said yeah, it was nuts. But now... !” Drusilla shook her head angrily. “What the devil are we females made of anyway!”

“Longings. ”

“You want to be put in a cell? And handcuffed?” Diana nodded whimsically.

“Yes. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. But it looks as though I’m going to find out. How about Elaine? Was that the end?”

“I couldn’t let it be.” Diana chuckled. “I got permission to visit her. I laid it on the line. Told her the visit was to help me, not her. Told her the way I’d been affected... Guess what.”

“I bet she got mad.”

“Hell no! She burst out laughing. It had worked the same way with her.”

“You can’t mean... ?”

“Sure, I do! She said, without a blush, that all through her arrest and trial her panties were sopping, and that they weren’t much drier now she was in the house of correction. She told me that to have to walk through a door and have it locked behind her still took her half way to a come. She said she and several others had been moved not long past. In a transit they were handcuffed together. She had two orgasms. She didn’t pretend to understand it, but she was grateful it was there.”

“Crazy!”

“And wonderful.”

They looked at each other in discovery. It was Diana who broke the silence.

“I’d like to whip you; Dru’?”

Drusilla got decisively to her feet and offered her hand.

In a silence neither of them needed to break, they retraced their steps.

A helpless Ginny viewed their return with eyes that were big question marks. But she, too, was chary of words. When the bar was lowered and her wrists unstrapped her youthful resilience reasserted itself. “Am I forgiven?” she asked hopefully.

“You’re forgiven, poppet, but only because we need the bar.”

“Coooo... Oh, wowie!” The child’s orbs sparkled. “One of you’s going to be whipped?”

“Watch that tongue, girl,” Diana admonished. “Be grateful and run along while you’re home free.”

Thankfully rubbing chafed wrists, the teenager looked from one to the other of the two women. “Can’t I watch?”

“No, you can’t! Vamoose.”

Drusilla blushed under the youthful, speculative gaze. “I bet it’s Mrs. Hammill who’s going to get it,” Ginny said with the wisdom of intuition. “It’s not fair I can’t watch. You watched me get it, Mrs. Hammill.”

“Let her stay,” Drusilla laughed. Her mind was in such turmoil that Ginny’s presence was without menace. Besides, she liked the girl.

Diana was still a mother. “Two on each hand,” she said decisively. “That’s the price of indulgence. Want to pay it, Ginny?”

“Oh, Motherrrrr!”

Ginny’s exclamation was a feminine blend of vexation and acceptance. But it left no doubt as to her willingness to pay the painful price.

For Drusilla it happened very quickly. Diana disposed of the shapeless frock and scarlet panties with an air of disdain. Drusilla moved as in a dream, placing her wrists and watching them snugly strapped as though they belonged to someone else. The leather was soft and warm and slightly damp from Ginny. The two women were very close, their vibes almost tangible.

“You do look lovely, Mrs. Hammill.” Ginny was enraptured.

“Shall we leave her the garter belt, the nylons and the shoes?” Diana now treated her exuberant daughter as a partner.

“Yes, please, Mumsie! They’re so—so—! You do want to wear them, don’t you, Mrs. Hammill?”

“It’s not for her to say,” the mother chided: “Her corset’s locked on, so we may as well maintain the ensemble.”

“And her bottom does stick out so nicely. It’s—it’s sort of framed.” Ginny was breathless.

“With that corset I can’t whip your back properly, darling,” Diana decided thoughtfully. “So I’ll cane your derriere same as I did Ginny. O.K.?”

“Yes, please.”

Ginny might have said it. The affirmative was a child’s acceptance. In a strange transformation she had returned to adolescence. Her sit-me-down was about to be punished with a cane. Drusilla refused to think. She surrendered her whole being to sensation. When the bar ceased to rise and she was almost on tip-toe, her principal awareness was of vulnerability. The erotic scraps fastened upon her nakedness offered no protection at all.

“Since you’re here, poppet, you might as well start things off. Here’s the cane.” Diana’s voice held mischief.

“Oh, Mummy, you’re so sweet! I say, Mrs. Hammill, you don’t mind?”

“Go ahead, dear. Do as Mummy says.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, I do think you’re nice. But I’ll hit you terribly hard. I won’t be a bit kind.”

“I’m sure that’s the proper way, dear.”

“And you won’t hate me after?”

“Get on with it, you little vixen. You’re deliberately making her quiver.” Diana’s admonition was maternally discerning.

In the flash of agony, Drusilla had a momentary vision of how she must look. Mouth agape fighting a scream, eyes staring in dismay, her torso and legs obscenely active.

“Worse than you thought, darling.” Diana made a complacent statement. It was not a question.

“Yessss—oh yes! Oh—!”

“The first one’s always awful, Mrs. Hammill.”

The second was no better. Drusilla was prepared to believe it worse. The third brought capitulation.

“I don’t think I can stand it.” Drusilla’s admission was tremulous. “I’m awfully sorry... ”

“Now you grasp what I mean about the compulsion, darling. Give her a really good one, Ginny. Square across. Not on her hip.”

Drusilla beheld a vast abyss. What had she done? What had she allowed Bryce and Diana to inveigle her into? The story of Elaine and the clanging door had become real. Looking up at the straps about her wrists she knew herself lost. “Please... !” she whimpered. “Don’t be mean.” The cut was very mean indeed. Drusilla abandoned silence.

“You react so beautifully, Mrs. Hammill.” Ginny was awed.

“I’d like to be unstrapped, please,” Drusilla quavered.

“Ginny knows how you feel. Don’t you, Ginny?”

“It’s sort of beautiful terrible, Mrs. Hammill.”

Drusilla considered the next scald across her flesh as terrible. Its beauty escaped her. “Oh, stop it! Oh, don’t do this! Diana, make her stop.”

“You’re thinking we don’t understand how it hurts, darling.” Diana’s words were placidly reasonable. “But we do, don’t we, Ginny?”

“Do we ever!” Ginny’s agreement was fervid. “Give me the cane, dear.”

Drusilla’s scream was part anger, part protest, but mostly pain. She felt herself curling up from the awfulness of the searing blow. Bemusedly she realised she had lifted herself from the floor in a writhing seeking of an impossible escape.

“That’s all, darling. Ginny, you run along now.”

It was heaven to be rid of the straps. To know herself returned to the world. To fling her arms around Diana’s neck and sob. To have Diana’s hands pat her back and, tenderly, trace the weals on her bottom.

“Ashamed, darling?”

“Yes,” Drusilla sniffed.

“So you should be! Such a fuss!”

“But it’s so awful! Couldn’t you have—?”

“No. It’s best you know. Next time there won’t be the shock.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Yes, there will. In thirty minutes you’ll be horny. Maybe you are now. Let me feel.”

Unconsciously, Drusilla separated her legs. Diana’s hand tested.

It came away wet.