Drusilla

3 Her Master

“That virgin ass belonged to me, ’Silla.”

“If you hadn’t turned me over you wouldn’t have seen it.” Drusilla complained petulantly. “We had the loveliest time... and then you had to do that.”

“Sensational, wasn’t it!” A naked Bryce gazed down at his naked wife on a crumpled bed. Interestedly, he traced the angry weals on her bottom with an inquisitive finger. “Were these the reason?”

“Yes.” The admission was grudging. “How d’you know?”

“I’ve been horny ever since Diana did it to me. It’s absurd.”

“No, it isn’t. I think we’ve stumbled onto something. With a whipped ass you’re the most fantastic lay.”

“Well, I’m not getting myself whipped again. It was awful. ”

“It’s right in there with our deal, Drusilla.”

“We don’t have a deal.”

“I haven’t noticed you packing any bags, sweetheart.” The naked wife lay silent with her thoughts. When the tracery of male fingertips paused, she implored: “Don’t stop, darling, it feels so good.”

“And what do I get?”

“Another fantastic?”

“It’s a deal.”

With her scorched bottom imparting wave after wave of golden sensation, Drusilla considered decision. She could not make one. Retreat as she might, decision followed relentlessly, a demanding Nemesis. She wondered if her adventure with Diana and Ginny had affected her will to decide. She did not think so. The caning of her bottom had brightened her. But its aftermath had been a wave of passion such as she had never known. She would have called it lust but the word had a bad sound.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bryce said evenly. “Don’t bother with any cute, wifely evasion. It’s still clear-cut.”

Drusilla sighed. She was angry with the obvious premise that the longer she wavered the more she must be examining Bryce’s demand. She constantly caught herself peeping at its possibilities. She no longer dismissed them out of hand. Unwillingly she accepted that what had been done to her so far had undeniably made her life more vivid and exciting. The carnal pleasures she at this moment was enjoying made previous adventures in bed seem tame.

“I could save you the trouble of deciding by keeping a lock on you all the time.” Bryce’s fingers gave no pause to her pleasure. “But I think you ought to have a more positive say in the deal, and anyway, it’s best we continue to go out and around. No reason our social life need suffer. But if we do it that way you’re going to have to constantly resubmit yourself. No balking.”

“Be a good little slave,” Drusilla’s voice was only faintly bitter.

“You’ll dramatize everything at the start. But we’ll fall into easy patterns.”

“But anytime I—balk; I pack my bag?”

“It’s the only way, ’Silla.”

“So we’re talking about my life? All of it?”

“The best life ever. Honey, push your hands up front.”

Absently, Drusilla obeyed. She made no pretense of shock when the handcuffs clicked tight upon her wrists. When the male hand resumed her pleasuring she raised herself on her elbows and examined the chrome bracelets by which her hands were joined. “Are these on me for life?” she inquired complaisantly.

“Just a trial run, sweets. How do you feel?”

“Funny. I bet they’d hurt if I tried to get them off.” She did not tell him she had seen them in the drawer. Idly, she asked: “Where on earth did you get them?”

“Bought ’em. Anyone can. Not just the cops.”

It was the first time! Sheepishly she felt curiosity and a strange excitement as she gently tugged at the confining link and fingered the gleaming steel.

“I’m handcuffed!”

It was like a discovery. An admission. Drusilla recalled Diana’s wish to see her thus.

“That’s right. You’re handcuffed.” Bryce’s voice was light but there were undertones. “Try and get them off. I’m told some girls can.”

“I can’t.” It was the certainty of acceptance.

“You look good in them.”

Drusilla s lips twisted in amusement. “They’re all I’m going to be allowed to wear, aren’t they! Wow, what a title for a book! ‘The Bride Wore Handcuffs.’”

“’Silla, you’ve fallen in love with them.”

“No, I haven’t. Don’t think that because I don’t go into hysterics at something you do to me I must necessarily like it. I’m trying to be reasonable.”

“Feeling your way?”

“Let me, please! Don’t go and whip me or something awful right off the bat.”

“Not until after our next fantastic, pet,” Bryce chuckled. “But I hope you realize you’ve earned something for allowing Diana to get at your derriere before me?”

“Couldn’t you sort of write that one off? It did give some benefits, y’know?”

“Not a chance! Matter of principle.”

Drusilla let it rest, but pursued a tangent. “Bryce dear, would you mind if Diana saw me like this? Handcuffed, I mean?”

He grinned. “She’d get a charge, eh?”

“So she says. You two would make a pair.”

“It’s you and I who’re the pair,” Bryce said soberly. “And don’t you forget it. You’ve been a bit absent-minded about it in the past.”

“Oh, Bryce!”

“You’re blushing. We can let that drop.” He grinned boyishly. “Tell you what: I’ll go all out for darling Diana. I’ll loan you to her. You’ll be delivered in handcuffs.”

“You needn’t go overboard.” Drusilla was remembering the cane. “I think all she wants to do is look.”

“Don’t you believe it. The poor girl’s starved for a morsel like you. Poor old Hinton leaves her high and dry.”

It was strangely comforting. Things fell into place. Drusilla made a mental note to pursue whatever knowledge Bryce and Diana may have shared. Maybe it was Diana... ? But her immediate concern was the handcuffs. She could not ignore the significance of them on her wrists. They were a symbol. Had Bryce craftily relieved her of decision!

“Darling, am I a prisoner?”

“Hmmmm.” His hand did not pause. “In a way.”

“You mean—it’s started?”

The hand ceased its ministration. Bryce’s voice was serious. “It’s started unless you ask me right now to unlock those handcuffs.”

“They’re on me as a sort of symbol?”

“Yes.”

“But, darling, I can’t ask you to take them off.” Drusilla’s voice was a wail. “If I do we go right back to square one.”

“That’s right.”

“You never help me when it comes to this,” she complained.

“I’ve given you all the help I can. Those handcuffs.” He was right. The steel bands answered most of her questions. Drusilla was tired of indecision. She was also very sure she did not want to pack a bag. Aloud, she mused:

“I’m weak, aren’t I? I mean, I really am one of those—what d’you call ’em: a submissive! I need to be herded.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Bryce, you and that word! And you’ve found out the same thing as I’ve found out.” She twisted to look up at him. “So, O.K., I want you to lend me to Diana. And even though I’m scared silly I want you to go on doing what you want with me. It’s been a turn-on—the whole thing. It’s been a turn-on even when I’ve hated it. If I burst into tears sometimes you’ll have to put up with it—I’m so damned lost...”

Bryce made love to her. Its beginning was tenderness. Its end was volcanic.

Drusilla wondered if it were the handcuffs.

“How’d you like to run over?” Drusilla asked demurely. Diana hugged the phone. “You’re up to something.”

“Can’t you pop over here?”

“No.”

“Oh ho, like that, eh?” Diana chuckled. “I bet you’re naked.”

“I have to be, Di’. It’s orders,” Drusilla giggled. “But I might manage panties and maybe a bra—just for you.”

“What, no corset?”

“No corset.” Another giggled. “Much worse.”

“Don’t tease, Dru’. What is it this time?”

“Handcuffs. ”

“You mean on you!”

“Yes. And they’re on tight. And I don’t have a key.”

“I’ll be right over,” said Diana.

In honest self-examination, Drusilla had come to accept that her own compliance was every bit as responsible for her new condition as was Bryce’s intransigence. She could not divine the degree of percipience by which he had correctly gauged the feminine submission latent in her psyche. At first she had been petulant at his baring of a facet of her being unknown to herself. But his probing had uncovered a rich vein of sensuality yielding unexpected discoveries. She lived from day to day. The price of termination was one she would not pay. Perhaps she would never pay it. The thought was spine-tingling.

Drusilla chose a pair of latex panties she had once purchased in a moment of mischief. They were just right for Diana’s visit. They moulded themselves upon her loins like a second skin, accentuating the obvious without blatancy. The handcuffs hindered the careful tuggings and smoothings to the point where she decided to leave her breasts bare. Joined hands would make a bra a chore.

“Oh, darling: Oh—oh—oh!”

Diana’s breathless exclamation was an excitement. Drusilla felt loved and very rich. She primped her hair so as to deliberately clink her handcuffs.

“Let me see! Let me hold them.”

Demurely the privileged captive extended her hands.

Diana’s rapture was reminiscent of engagement rings and large diamonds.

“Must I be careful? I mean, will they go tighter if I press?”

“No, there’s a little lock gadget Bryce used. See those tiny hoes... ? They’re fixed.” Pride tingled. It was like a casual dropping of their origin as Tiffany’s.

Diana fingered lovingly, a pilgrim at the shrine. The shining metal and the encircled wrists were turned and lifted and scrutinized from every angle. “Darling, model them for me. Oh, please?”

Drusilla happily obeyed. Diana’s joy was one more unexpected dividend. Pleased amusement lit her face as she performed housewifely motions around the room, each one extracting glints of steel. “Bryce has kept them locked on me for four days and nights,” she explained cheerfully. “I’m getting quite good at doing things.”

“But, Dru’, how can you dress—or leave the house?”

“I don’t. I’m forbidden to dress, and I haven’t been out of the house the whole time,” she giggled. “I thought it would be awful but it’s not. I’m horny all the time.”

“What d’you think I am! Oh, Dru’, I’m consumed by lust. But how long... ?”

“I think the first stage is nearly over,” Drusilla confessed. “Bryce says I have to be punished because I let you cane my bottom before he got at it.”

“Gorgeous!”

“For you, maybe. What about me?”

“You’ll love whatever he does to you. You know you will.”

Drusilla wrinkled her nose. “And he insists we have to go out and around. I’m positive he’s got something fiendish in mind. Probably that damned corset.”

“Lucky you.”

“Maybe we should trade husbands.”

“Darling, if only we could!” Diana sighed sadly. “You’re certainly welcome to Hinton. He’s so disgustingly safe.”

“At least he doesn’t cane your bottom or put you in chains.”

“That’s what I mean. I’m unfulfilled. If it weren’t for Ginny... !” Diana shrugged. “I suppose you’ve figured out that Ginny’s her mother’s daughter?”

“Sort of. She’s a darling.”

“She’s a teenage volcano! What’s that make me?”

“And Hinton’s no idea what he’s sitting on?”

“Oh, he’s got an idea all right,” Diana admitted slowly.

“But he doesn’t want to be bothered. I’m an exotic piece of furniture and Ginny’s all mine to worry about. He kisses us on birthdays.”

“Don’t sound so sad.” Drusilla, once again, experienced the lovely rich feeling. “Bryce is going to lend me to you. I think he figures you’ll be shockingly cruel. Will you?”

“I’ll put you on the bar and alternately nibble and flog you. How’s that?”

The surge of flame through her inmost being left Drusilla breathless. Diana had to be kidding. But the impact of her words had been like bullets. The handcuffed woman had a mental vision! “You wouldn’t!” she accused with feeling. Then, suddenly eager, “Would you?”

“Of course I will, stupid! I’ll whip you and love you and send you home totally fulfilled—a bit limp, perhaps.”

Again the searing flame. Drusilla wondered if anything showed though the latex. “He’s going to deliver me to you in handcuffs,” she informed meekly, loving the sudden passion in Diana’s eyes.

“I can’t bear it any more,” affirmed the wife on Hinton Winslow. “I don’t care whether you’re hungry or not, Dru’, you’re going to have to eat. I need relief.”

Watching Diana fling aside her clothes, Drusilla was aware of power. Slaves were not always petitioners! She fed very hungrily indeed, her chained hands clutching and loving as best they could.

After the tumultuous journey, rendered all too short by Diana’s pulsing excitation, the serviced woman lay back and pantingly exclaimed: “I needed that! Oh, Dru’, you’re wonderful!”

“Slaves strive to please, mistress.”

“If you say things like that you’ll have to do it again.” Diana shook her head bemusedly. “You’re a sexpot.”

“You taste sweeter than honey, mistress.”

“Drusilla! ! !”

Drusilla feasted once more.

“I’m going to have to watch this,” Diana mused as she disdainfully resumed her clothes. “I’ve been addicted to you for years. You’re habit forming.” She shook an admonitory finger. “And if you come up with any more of those erotic remarks I’ll go and find Bryce’s whip.”

“It’s in the drawer of the hall stand.”

“That’s a deliberate invitation—you minx!”

Drusilla giggled. It was becoming a habit. “Not really. I don’t think Bryce would like it if you marked me any more.”

“Do you care?”

“Well, sort of. I have to find out what his ideas of punishing me are.” She held up the handcuffs. “These aren’t a punishment. They’re a sort of prelude. Could be he’ll do something I’ll hate and won’t want.”

“It’s almost certain to hurt, idiot.” Diana smoothed her frock. “Did you put that latex on to please me or to hide your cunt?”

“Handcuffs make a girl feel about three times naked, Di’ You’re a visitor. I had to do something.”

“But you’ll be punished if he finds out?”

“So he says.” Drusilla paused. “I haven’t really disobeyed him yet.”

“Scared?”

“Hmmmm, maybe. But I haven’t wanted to. And he’s been a dear and gone easy on me. I’m saving it up.”

“You melt at the thought, don’t you?”

“Diana, it’s you who’s melting. Gosh, I wish I felt like you.”

“You do. You just don’t know it yet. Think of how far you’ve come in a week.”

It was true! Drusilla was denied comment by the door chimes.

“That’s Ginny,” Diana said without concern. “I left a note for her to follow on. There’s some unfinished business... ”

Ginny was blushing. She carried a long, slender something, untidily wrapped. She absorbed the impact of Drusilla’s nudity, the latex and the handcuffs without shock. “Oh, Mrs. Hammill, you look lovely like that,” she exclaimed with girlish sincerity. “I expect Mummy’s told you why I’m here?”

“Just unwrap it, Ginny,” Diana ordered.

It was the cane! Drusilla suddenly remembered the agreement. She looked from mother to daughter, amazed by their dedication.

“Bet you thought I’d forgotten, Dru’?”

“Mother never forgets, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny assured anxiously. “I have to have my hands caned. Remember?”

“Well, yes, but surely... ?”

“Oh, you’re thinking of the four days delay,” Ginny said brightly. “Mumsie didn’t bother that day you were there. I’d had—well, my bottom had been well looked after. I was sort of tender. Mummy’s so sweet.”

“Yes, isn’t she.”

“Two on each hand, as I recall?” Diana asked cheerfully.

“Yes, Mother, but I was wondering... ?”

“Your bottom’s not so tender now, so you’d like them there?”

“Yes, please, Mother. Could I?”

“No.”

“Oh, Motherrrr! I make such a fuss when it’s my hands! I’m always ashamed. And with Mrs. Hammill! Mother, could I have it on my bottom, well bent over, and get an extra? That would be five.”

“Not for five, and not for six. Off with your clothes, Ginny.”

“But if it’s just her hands, why naked?” Drusilla watched the phenomenon of Ginny’s swift conversion to nudity in puzzlement.

“It’s so I feel ashamed, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny explained helpfully. “I’m getting sort of used to it. But having you watch makes me all goosey. Do you think I’m nice?”

“You’re lovely.”

“I’m so glad.” Ginny sounded deeply sincere. “I’d hate to have to hold my hands out to be caned if I was fat or flat-chested or something.”

“You’ve nothing to worry about, dear.”

“Stop chattering, minx, and hold your hand out,” Diana interposed ominously.

“Yes, Mother.”

Obedience was instant. The conversion from nattering nymphet to sweet statue with arm outstretched took but a moment. Ginny’s insouciance was in abeyance.

“Just a little test to show Mrs. Hamill what you’re made of, dear. I’ve thought of something simple.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“No hugging.”

The words were simple. For a bare moment Drusilla failed to comprehend. But Ginny’s wail of anguish told all.

“But, Mother, I can’t help it! My hands do it all by themselves—they hurt so terribly.”

“The first two you must take without moving, dear. After you’ve had the second two, you can hug all you like. Fair enough?”

“I suppose so, Mother. I really will try.”

“If you fail, and start that silly hugging business it means two extra.” Diana’s nonchalance was superb.

“Thank you, Mumsie.” There was no reproach in the young voice.

The handcuffed woman watched in an awareness of privilege. Ginny was one for the book. The child was incredible. The cane whirred and slapped home on the taut palm held out to receive it. The arm was depressed under the force of the blow, but immediately returned to the horizontal. Small, sad sounds came from Ginny’s throat, but her other arm obediently rose. The small, pathetic hand stretched itself, palm up.

“She’s a little sweetheart.” Diana’s maternal pride was unmistakable.

It happened again. Ginny’s eyes were riveted on the wall. The child refused to watch or turn. Her lips were a small, straight line. The second whirring arc cut the tiny hand with cruel precision. Ginny did not move, but the wail her teeth bit back tore at Drusilla’s heart.

“You’re doing fine, dear.”

To the woman who watched, it seemed inadequate praise. The slender youthfulness stood now with both arms extended, head high. The young breasts rose and fell tumultuously. Two hurt hands offered themselves as sacrifice to an impetuous tongue. Diana took her time. Drusilla guessed she was demonstrating her daughter’s total involvement.

This time Ginny’s total nudity responded. It twisted and turned under the bite upon the open palm. But the lapse was momentary. Within seconds the youngster had stiffened and resumed the pose required. Both arms remained outstretched, one hand limp and curled, the other with fingers stiffly inviting the final stroke. With pounding heart, Drusilla watched it happen.

This time Ginny’s response was as old as the centuries.

Immediately her arm flinched under the worst blow of the four she uttered a sobbing wail, bent forward and tucked her punished hands under her armpits. As though making up for her previous fortitude she now gave herself utterly to the absorption of her pain. But even as she sobbed and writhed she enunciated in a clear young voice.

“Thank you, Mummy.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Hurt nicely?”

“Yes—oh, yes!”

“She’s a good kid. Isn’t she, Dru’?”

“I think she’s wonderful,” Drusilla said with heartfelt sincerity. “I don’t think I could have done that.”

“Want to try, darling?”

“Good heavens, no! I’d go crazy after number one.”

“Maybe.” Diana examined her handcuffed friend with amused assessment. “But you never know, do you! Wait till you’re on loan to me.”

“Diana, you wouldn’t?”

“Darling, you know perfectly well I would. In fact, I will.”

Drusilla felt outraged by this incipient betrayal of friendship. But the emotion was heavily laced with the tingling excitement that now seemed a part of all her days. Sulkily, she proclaimed the obvious.

“I won’t hold out my hand.”

“Want to bet?”

Drusilla blushed. She did not want to bet with this new Diana who knew too much. She was conscious that Ginny, whilst still busy hugging, was now taking a lively interest in in the exchange. “I’m not going to let you punish me like a child,” she proclaimed huffily.

“Tell her, Ginny.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, you have to!” Ginny was anxious to offer the voice of experience. “If you don’t do what you’re told Mummy just keeps adding more.”

Drusilla sniffed. She had a suspicion she was being laughed at. “That’s all very well for you, dear,” she said kindly, “But I shall just go home.”

“Will you, darling! What are you wearing?”

Lust flared. She was naked. She was handcuffed. It was another of the new moments of realization. She would go nowhere. How could she! She glared at Diana in mock anger. “Oh, all right, have your fun. And anyway, it’s not likely to happen.”

“Is your bottom still tender, Mrs. Hammill? Mine’s stopped hurting.” Ginny’s query was politely sincere.

“You can dress and run along, poppet.” Diana’s directive was maternal. “And take the cane back with you.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ginny picked up her panties, then paused. “Mother, aren’t you going to cane Mrs. Hammill’s hands?”

“Why should I?”

“Well, I think it would be nice. You are sort of learning, aren’t you, Mrs. Hammill?”

“She can’t hold her hands out wearing those handcuffs,” Diana complained with obvious regret.

“I bet I could.” The girlish voice was eager. “All she’d have to do—”

“Ginny!!!”

“O.K., Mother, O.K., I’m dressing!” The small, swollen hand selected another feminine trifle. But the curiosity was unappeased. “I would so have loved to watch,” she added hopefully.

“Do you want to earn another four?”

It was impossible! Drusilla scarcely believed her eyes.

The bra stopped halfway to the youthful cones. Ginny’s face lit with excitement. “Oh, Mummy, could I!”

Diana’s reply bubbled laughter. “Ask Mrs. Hammill.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammill, would you—please? I’d so like to watch. All you’d have to do is hold your hands out front instead of sideways. You could put the one that isn’t being caned underneath the one that is. Then change over each time. I’m sure it would work beautifully.”

“Not today, dear. I’m not as brave as you.”

“Poppet, go home!”

“Yes, Mother.”

Ginny’s disappointment was patent. Drusilla felt unkind and knew her values tumbling about her ears. She repressed, with difficulty, an impulse to offer her hand for one stroke only. It was too absurd!

“She’s quite insatiable.” Diana meditated after a once-more-smiling daughter had departed with the cane. “I sometimes wonder what I’ve started there.”

“She’s the happiest child I know.”

“I’m sort of proud of that end of it. But what will happen in a few years with boyfriends and husbands!?”

“Don’t let it happen, Di’.” Drusilla found her voice surprisingly vehement. “Keep the little darling. Keep her always.”

“The way I’m going to keep you?” The query was vibrantly sly.

Again the flame within the latex on her loins! She had known Diana for years—or had she? Were their true natures only now surfacing! Her lips still savored the flavor of her laughing companion. A sudden, delightful vision of a world devoid of Bryce or Hinton flashed and was gone.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Diana persisted.

“Yes.”

It had been easy to say. Once said, it changed everything. Drusilla shivered deliciously and raised her hands so that the handcuffs gleamed. Wonderingly, she said: “Without these—things wouldn’t happen... ”

“Locked on your wrists like that they do a lot of things,” Diana admitted. “They make me horny and force you to recognize something you’d otherwise reject. They stop you turning your back on what you’re scared to face.”

“Am I scared, Di’?”

“You were. But those handcuffs are giving you strength. I bet if I had the key you wouldn’t let me use it.”

Drusilla fingered the steel. It had become as much a part of her as her fingers themselves. “You’re right,” she admitted slowly, “But, Diana darling, don’t spoil things between Bryce and me. I seem to be committed to something or other—let things take their course.”

“I’ll wait,” said Diana comfortably.