Drusilla

8 Unsought Captivity

Drusilla was willing to admit to weariness. She estimated she had been tied to the cell bars a number of hours. There was no panic. Diana had said simply it was a “tie day,” an essential conditioning for girls who were slaves.

Her knees hurt. But that was to be expected. Kneeling on the concrete with her legs thrust behind her through the bars could not possibly be pleasurable. True, her pussy was wet. But Drusilla had come to regard her pussy as a traitor—sometimes! The rest of her was roped securely to the bars. Her thighs, her waist, her shoulders. Her hands and arms had been pulled back through bars as had her feet. Her wrists were handcuffed. Thus she knelt facing the small cell. her immediate view the stone wall. She was not alone.

“I’m getting awful tired of this, Drew.”

“So am I, Ginny. Think it’s for all day?”

“It likely is,” said the voice of experience. “You quite sure you can’t slip those handcuffs?”

“Oh, Ginny, of course I can’t!”

“Well, I think handcuffs are really made for men,” Ginny sniffed. “They don’t have girls’ sizes, and my hands are awful small. If Mummy didn’t click ’em so tight—”

“Mine are clicked too tight, Ginny.”

“So are mine. Oh, Drew, I wish I hadn’t smashed that vase—” Another sniff. “But then, if I hadn’t done that you’d be in here all alone. This place all alone is creepy. ’Specially when you’re naked.”

Drusilla took a sideways look at slender hips. By straining forward she could glimpse pubic hair below an adolescent tummy tightly constricted by rope. Ginny was standing beside her. The youngster’s hands were similarly constrained, but her ankles were bound to separate bars. Two strands of rope above her breasts strictured her back against the metal. Her breasts pouted under the strain. Her view was as limited as her older companion’s. “Are you hurting?” she asked anxiously.

“Sort of.” Ginny was always casual about pain. “It must be worse for you.” She giggled. “Did you make Mummy mad or something?”

“No, darling, we’re both here to build our characters.”

“Mmmmmm! Have you come yet? I wish I could help.”

“No, I haven’t. I expect it’s because my knees hurt so bad—not the right mood. Have you?”

“Not really. It’s sort of hovering. Even if I don’t like the way I’m tied it. still turns me on. I say, Drew, how about if we talk real sexy about our breasts and cunts and how we hurt here or there and what we’d do to each other if we were loose?”

“It would be contrived. We’d have done it already if we hadn’t been gloomy in all this rope.”

“Can you rub your head against me anywhere, Drew? It doesn’t take much.”

“I’ve already tried. It’s hopeless. We’re both fixed, but good! Gosh, one of these ropes across my shoulder... !”

“Me too. Being tied up is the pits. Ever figured out why it makes us horny, Drew?”

“Because a girl did it. Someone we love. The ropes are her hands on us. They make us know we’re owned and controlled—that we can’t get loose unless they let us.”

“What about if a man did it to you?”

“Same thing. But if you didn’t like him you’d hate it.”

“You sure about it?” Ginny asked with interest. “I’ve wondered... I’d hate to be tied by a man. I don’t want anything to do with boys or men... ugh! It would be horrid to be owned by one—not when I’ve got gorgeous Mummy and gorgeous you! I’d sooner let Petty... ”

“Suppose it wasn’t a case of ‘let.’ Suppose you were forced by physical strength?”

“Oh, wow! It is sort of a turn on, darling. Have you... ?”

“No. But it’s the female rape fantasy.”

“Oh, that! No, thanks!” Ginny’s disgust was vehement.

“That’s a real ugh! One of those—things inside me.”

The child was infinitely sweet. Drusilla wondered what life might do to her. Would Diana be able to keep her captive always within this cocoon of scented femininity in which she herself was a happy prisoner! Here, no matter how she was bound, the child would never sense captivity.

“Say, Drew, did you hear something?”

“Probably your mother moving a chair.”

“It didn’t sound—right.”

“Well, there’s bound to be noises in a house.”

“I s’pose. I say, Drew, d’you think Mummy might let you tie me sometime?”

“I expect so. Gosh, Ginny, I’d like to. I’d like it a lot.”

“Just thinking about it’s made me all goosey. I just know I’m going to pop!” Ginny’s voice oozed excitation. “She could lock us both in here. But no handcuffs on you! She could leave you lots of rope and you could do anything you liked with me. It’s groovy!”

This time the sound was more pronounced. Both girls tensed against their bindings, listening.

“It’s absolutely cunt curling,” Ginny whispered. “We’re completely helpless. Just think... !”

Drusilla was thinking. It was most likely Diana pushing furniture around under some feminine caprice for change. But suppose... ! A burglar! An intruder! But it was broad daylight! It was absurd!

It was then they heard the door open and the step upon the stairs.

“Don’t play the haughty lady with me, Diana,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

Drusilla strained to look up. Ginny looked down. Each face reflected consternation. “I can hardly move,” Ginny whispered hoarsely. “Oh, damn!”

Drew slammed her nakedness against her bonds in a frenzy of need to be free. It amounted to no more than a reflex action. She was held fast. “It’s no use, darling,” she mourned. “Whatever’s happening is going to happen.”

“What the devil have we got here!” The unknown voice from somewhere in the past sounded surprised and pleased. “I’ve been wondering where you kept your little cunts. Damn neat, I must say. Where’s the key?”

“On that nail—the passage wall.” Diana’s voice was oddly strained.

“Aha! The old trick. They can see it but can’t reach. Tantalizing as hell.”

The lock on the cell door made its now familiar snap.

Diana stumbled inside, propelled by a lusty hand. Her arms were handcuffed behind her back. She was flushed with fury and shame.

“M-o-t-h-e-r-r?” Ginny’s familiar exclamation was anguished.

“It’s all right, dear. Don’t panic.” Diana’s voice clearly said things were not ‘all right’ at all.

“And how’s my little slave girl’s rump today?”

Mrs. Pendleton’s muscularity made the cell seem doubly small. She surveyed the naked captives with beaming approval. Her voice was hearty. “Did a good job on ’em, Diana. They’re safe. Young’un’s your own, eh? Starting her out right.”

“Belinda, stop this! Ginny’s a child. She shouldn’t—”

“Nice cunt and tits, Diana. Looks big enough to me.”

“That’s not the point! This is all wrong! You are not invited! And you tricked me, damn you!”

Mrs. Pendleton guffawed. “You fell for it. When I said it was something new in handcuffs you were eager as all get out. Got one cuff on you, the rest was easy.”

“You took a rotten advantage. It’s a betrayal of friendship. Let me loose. Take these things off my wrist.”

“Cool down, Diana. Think a bit. I’ve stumbled on a gold mine here. I’d be nuts to pass it up. There’s no way you can get out of those handcuffs. I’ve got you! I’ve got all three of you.”

It was then that Drusilla saw the marks on Diana’s arms.

Diana wore a sleeveless dress. Both her bare arms bore the scarlet of the riding crop Mrs. Pendleton held beneath one arm. Her resistance and its punishment would explain the sounds.

“You can’t possibly do this. It’s too outrageous!” Diana was tugging at her cuffed hands in the resentment of a new captive Drusilla remembered all too well.

“You know I can, love. I can certainly get away with it long enough to whip you all into shape—most especially you, Diana! You’re vulnerable. If I want to be a bit crafty I can possibly whip you for life.”

“But why? You’ve got—?”

“I’m a bored, middle-aged sadist, love. A bit jaded. You’ll put new life in me.”

“But my daughter! It’s just not—!”

“Your daughter’s doing just fine. Look at the little pretty! Naked and all tied up! Where’s your beef’?”

Drusilla watched in impotent misery as her beloved Mistress was herded from the cell. When she was marched back, her neck was circled by a chain. She was led to one of the upper rings in the opposite wall. A padlock snapped. Diana stood tethered by no more than twelve inches of metal links. Mrs. Pendleton removed the handcuffs.

“Undress!”

Drusilla’s heart quickened in apprehension. Her darling Mistress! The vividly beautiful Diana chained, at bay, her authority shattered by a sardonic beldam intent on carnal joy.

“Belinda, be sensible! We can still be friends.”

“We are friends, darling. Undress!”

Diana’s hands were busy at her throat, exploring her own chain, her own padlock. She made a motion forward and was snubbed back. Save for her neck, she was free! But she was also helpless. She could do no more than stand against the wall of her own cell, glowering.

Mrs. Pendleton made suggestive flourishes with her riding crop. Concerned eyes focused on its flexing and its cutting of the air. Mrs. Pendleton basked in their attention. “All right. That thing hurts. You’ve made your point,” Diana declaimed angrily. “Surely you’re not bitch enough to use it on us while we’re like this!”

“Undress, dear. I want to see your cunt.”

“Belinda! Don’t talk like that! Remember—!”

“The kid?” Mrs. Pendleton guffawed. “I noticed the bottoms on those two on the way in. That youngster knows the score.” She turned to the bound and indignant Ginny. “Where’s your cunt, kid?”

“Same place as yours,” Ginny said sullenly.

The crop flashed across a slim hip. Ginny yelped.

“Where’s your cunt, girl?”

“Between my legs.” Ginny vouchsafed the information resentfully.

“Belinda, she’s only a girl. For Pete’s sake—!”

“She’s a girl with a well-caned bottom, and you’re likely to have one too,” said Belinda expansively. “Now, stop nattering and undress.”

“I refuse. Not in front of my daughter.”

“What have you got that she hasn’t?”

“That’s an absurd question. It’s indecent.”

“I’m looking at two cunts and four tits right now,” Mrs. Pendleton pointed out reasonably. “It’s not as though you’d be breaking fresh ground.”

“I simply refuse. That’s final.”

The crop cut at the leg below the skirt. In a sickening knowledge of pain, Drusilla saw the nylon shred and ladder under the blow. Diana lunged to clasp her injury but was jerked back by the chain upon her neck.

“I can stand here and cut you to pieces,” said Mrs.

Pendleton affably. “And there’s nothing you can do about it except wave your arms and kick.”

Diana stood, panting, her hands against the wall beyond which she could not retreat. “Untie Ginny and take her somewhere else.” Her voice was pleading.

“Don’t want her to see you do a strip, eh?” Mrs. Pendleton was intrigued. She turned to the child bound against the bars. “You’d like to watch Ma do a tease, wouldn’t you, kid?”

“No, I wouldn’t! I think you’re horrid!” Ginny’s fury strained at the ropes. “You let Mummy go—let her GO!” .

“Why should I, love?”

“Because! Because she’s my mother, that’s why!” Ginny glared in fierce adolescent indignation. “Look, you old trout, you’ve got Drew and me. We’re helpless and we’re naked. What more do you want?”

Mrs. Pendleton nodded and beamed approvingly. “You ever service a woman, kid?”

“I’m fifteen, not five—and I’m not going to service you!”

“Old trout, eh!” Mrs. Pendleton’s voice was cheerfully pensive. “Ever had your tits thrashed, Ginny?”

“Belinda, no!” Diana’s cry was anguished.

“Your ma’s concerned about your breasts, love,” Belinda suggested suavely. “Pity she doesn’t want to take her clothes off.”

It had been inevitable from the beginning. A riding crop can be all powerful in a world of naked girls bound for its caress. Diana kicked off her shoes.

Drusilla had seen her Mistress naked. But never in the context of what was taking place. A woman nude in bed is a world removed from the same woman chained naked against a wall. What she beheld now left her breathless. It was beauty. It seethed eroticism. It was spiced with shame. No matter how Diana courted indifference she could not disguise her mortification at what she must do. Her clothes came off in slow, sharp jerks of fury.

“Dammit, Diana, if I had your figure I’d never wear clothes.” Belinda’s tribute was grudging and envious.

“Have a good look. There’s no charge.” Diana was bitter. “At least you have the sense not to try and cover anything. Keep your hands back against the wall—or lift ’em up. Just so long as I can get a good look.”

“It’s normal equipment,” Diana retorted listlessly.

“But high quality! Dammit, I’m glad I thought to bring those handcuffs. You can turn and face the wall and put your hands behind your back.”

Drusilla saw her Mistress tense, saw the involuntary glance at the crop and the woman who held it, saw the tentative hand reach up to the chain. Then, hopelessly, the lovely nudity turned and two hesitant hands offered themselves in surrender. Handcuffs latched their familiar song, two wrists tugged against the steel, then relaxed.

“Turn back, honey.”

Diana obeyed. Mortification was pink upon her face. “Don’t like taking orders, do you, love?”

“Belinda, you’re in the catbird seat. Don’t be mean to us.”

“Mother, don’t be humble just because of me. That’s just what she wants.” Ginny’s sense of the rightness of things was outraged.

“You want that little can of yours caned, honey?” Mrs. Pendleton enquired amiably.

“You’ll do it anyway. You’re a meanie!” Ginny spat. “That’s right, kid. You’re down for a licking. It’s a deal.”

“Leave Mummy alone. She’s never hurt you.”

“It’s no good, Ginny,” Diana interjected tonelessly.

“We’re all so damned helpless, we’d best behave.”

“M-o-t-h..e-r-r-r!!!”

“Your ma’s right, honey. I don’t need an excuse to wail your back or your boobs, but it’s nice to have one.”

“Oh, Mummy, you’ve tied me so tight!” An infinite yearning for freedom was in the young voice. “If I could get loose I’d scratch her to bits.”

“None of us can get loose, dear. Don’t antagonize Mrs. Pendleton. Don’t provoke her into giving you punishments.”

“My, my, Diana, you have seen the light!” Belinda Pendleton surveyed her new captive with beaming satisfaction. “I bet if it wasn’t for dear, little Ginny, you’d still be spitting fire.”

“Look, Belinda, you and I know the score. So does Drew. Keep Ginny locked in a room or something while you have your fun with us. You don’t need a child.”

“Hell, the kid’s first on the list for a thrashing. Haven’t had one her age before—wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thrash me instead. You’ll get more pleasure out of my screams.”

Belinda smiled beatifically: “You haven’t grasped the beauty of this yet, have you! I’m going to thrash you all. As long as I like and as often as I like. And that’s just for starters. There are other things, y’know... ! Your lickings will just be the hors d’oeuvres... !”

“Belinda, don’t torture us. I’d have thought you’d have got a big enough charge out of seeing me like this. I’ve never been so shamed in my life.”

“It’s all beautiful, darling. I’m so damned lucky. Like I said, the three of you are a positive gold mine. I’ll be burning a fire in my cat all day.”

“How long do you intend to—use us?”

“I’ve been mulling it over. I don’t see why it can’t be permanent. I’ve been thinking of possibilities. I suppose you have?”

“Yes.”

“And I see you don’t like ’em,” Mrs. Pendleton chuckled. “I don’t need the money, but I’ve a good mind to rent you out. A high class cat house with the inmates always on call—or should I say ‘on chain’? How’d you like guys peering through the bars at you and making their selection?”

“Guys?”

“That got to you, didn’t it! Yes, guys. I’m sure your little twats can take something bigger than a tongue.”

“Don’t be beastly.”

“Dyed in the wool Lesbians, eh? That adds a bit of spice. I’ll tie you down and watch the disgust when he shoves it in.”

Diana looked levelly at her tormenter. “Will Homer go for this?”

“Homer gives me my head. Least I can do is offer him a piece of tail.”

It was useless! Belinda Pendleton’s banter was impregnable. Her possession of all three of them positive. Diana shrugged disdainfully and fell silent.

“Just occurred to me... ” Their new owner gazed from one to the other of them brightly. “I’m going to need a few things. I may stay the night. I expect you’ll still be here when I get back!” She guffawed happily and was gone.

The clang of the door and the turning of the key was a knell. A death and a beginning. Three naked females exchanged expressions of dismay. After Belinda Pendleton, any silence was profound.

“I deserve anything she does to me,” Diana said bitterly.

“To let myself be tricked like that! Like a silly kid... ! Now look at me! I’m so damned helpless I could cry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mummy.”

“Yes, it is. And at such a time! You two totally helpless ... .” She looked at the bound girls with a flicker of hope. ... Any faintest chance you can wiggle loose?”

“None at all, Di. We tried for hours before this happened.”

“I can’t! That’s for sure! She’s got the handcuffs biting my wrists in two—and this chain round my neck... Oh, damn!”

With the coming of the silence that finally took possession of the three despondent nudities, the pain returned to Drusilla’s knees. She had knelt upon the concrete a long time. Her strained efforts at easement brought only minimal relief. The ropes bit. The handcuffs were tight upon her wrists. She was engulfed in impotence. Tears hovered but she fought them back. Diana had troubles enough without a weeping slave.

Drusilla had entered slavery with an open mind. Enslavement had engendered responses undreamed, both in herself and from others. Now she was gripped by a fresh emotion that had not formerly been present. Fear! She had been captured and fallen into the possession of a hostile force. Bound tight and helpless, she faced a thralldom in which there was no love. She would actively long for escape, and be denied. Mrs. Pendleton would be thorough. Rope or chain would be on her always. She would be made subservient to the whip.

Was it so different? Of course it was! But the difference was not in the rope or chain. It was in the woman who fastened them upon her limbs. Drusilla would never have fought Diana. But she would fight Mrs. Pendleton tooth and nail if given half a chance. Did that make her previous captivity false and this real? Drusilla strained against her bonds. They had been bound upon her by Diana. They were real enough! It was unlikely that Belinda Pendleton could tie or lock her more stringently... But there was something else.

Drusilla was excited. It was the familiar beat. The new fear accompanied but did not quench it. She was still owned. She had changed mistresses. This one would be more cruel and less lovable. She saw herself as a bound maiden awaiting sacrifice. Awaiting the pleasure of a personality she could not influence. To Belinda Pendleton her tears would be an aperitif. Hesitantly, she sought the eyes of the woman chained against the wall.

Several times since they had been left alone, this silent communion had exchanged the guilty secret they had no wish to share with the youngster tied to the bars. Each one was admitting to the other that, no matter their loathing for Belinda Pendleton, they felt in this new captivity an erotic potency more compelling than the old. Drusilla’s writhings against her ropes, and Diana’s constant testing and fingering of the metal bands upon her wrists were not a seeking for escape. They were a savoring of feminine bondage. The deliciousness of resignation to a helplessness imposed by another female.

It was one more discovery!

“A damned well-behaved trio,” Belinda Pendleton commented on her return.

No one answered. The mood was melancholy.

“Get organized. Make a fresh start.” Belinda was brisk.

She was busy with a key.

A cuff fell away from Drusilla’s wrist. Her arms were guided back to normal. The cuff snapped again. She raised her joined hands thankfully, rediscovering something she had lost. The skin of her wrists was chafed red. When the last rope was peeled from her wealed skin she rose stiffly to her feet and massaged her protesting knees.

“Don’t get any ideas, honey.” Mrs. Pendleton patted the newly released bottom with her crop. “I’ll cut you to pieces if you get foxy.” With Ginny, it was different. Pulled through the bars, her hands were cuffed behind her back. To make this possible, the ropes were loosed from above her breasts. They left the same scarlet and purple indentations with which Drusilla herself was decorated. Only when the teenager had been made helpless were the rest of the ropes taken from her limbs.

“What! No thank you?” Belinda asked sardonically. “Thank you for untying us.” Drusilla felt the thanks appropriate, but the words fell mechanically from her lips.

“No reason I should tell you the agenda,” Belinda said comfortably. “Things will happen to you. I promise you won’t be bored. I’ll take you one at a time. Handcuffed, you won’t give me much trouble.” She shook the crop menacingly. “This says you won’t give me any trouble at all. I’ll keep you naked so its bite will be worse than my bark.”

“Aren’t you going to unchain my neck?”

“Do you good to stand a while, Diana. Let your two little quails see how the mighty have fallen.”

“It’s a rotten way to keep me. I’ll tire.”

“I can make it worse.” The offer was crisp.

“Oh, all right. Have your fun.” Diana took a deep breath and avoided her daughter’s commiserating eyes. No one could doubt her shame.

“I intend to.” Belinda Pendleton’s words commanded attention. “I’m arranging a little entertainment. You’re the star.”

The silence was electric.