Golden Wrists

2 A Plethora of Prisoners

It took me two or three days to truly believe what I was doing. With each fresh grasp of authority there came more assurance until I was back to the old New York confidence and a seething excitement. I was soon looking forward to the days ahead and counting each new arrival as Britain’s highborn delivered its delinquent daughters for discipline. The poor, bad-tempered little darlings hadn’t the faintest idea what they were in for. It seemed too good to be true. We had now reached a total of forty rebellious but still dewy-eyed little darlings behind the bars. More would trickle in as time went by, but I had to make a start somewhere so I had Constance and Betty bring them one at a time to my office to be interviewed and assessed and given an introduction to Rockley I had myself devised. My first was a redheaded, green-eyed bundle of sexuality, glowing with indignation.

I told her to stand before my desk as I completed a descriptive list of what and who she was, and where she came from. It was pretty much like extracting a tooth but I did wring from her an admission as to the faults which brought her to her present plight. Her greeting was forthright, “If you don’t let me go immediately, I shall phone the police.”

I am a lawyer, I know the pitfalls of chit-chat. My reply was brief and to the point. “Remove your clothes.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I told you to. Do it now.”

“I’m not a lesbian, you know. It won’t do you any good”

“Strip.”

She looked around uncertainly, noticing the array of whips and riding crops and the massive oak of a pillory I had ordered installed. Conversationally, but with a voice trembling just a little, she quipped, “I see you go in for torture.”

“Get those clothes off!”

“And what happens if I refuse?”

The three of us had prearranged our response to certain situations. I touched a button and immediately Constance and Betty came in to station themselves on each side of the girl. Once more, and very politely, I requested, “Please undress.”

My two aides make formidable guards, jailers, or matrons. After a shocked glance to either side, our first little treasure reached for the zipper of her dress. “Oh, all right, if you insist,” she muttered. “But you’ve made me sleep on the floor and in my clothes for two nights, and I hope I smell.”

“Her youthful perfume was delightful but this was neither the time nor the place. Constance and Betty discretely withdrew and closed the door. Her name was Paula Crombie, and she was one of those female creatures for whom the wearing of clothes was a real shame, The sons of the nobility always marry the most beautiful girls, so it is understandable that their offspring should be of centerfold quality. Paula most certainly was. Almost without a waist but flaring out below into as cute a bottom as I’ve ever seen. I went to the pillory and raised its yoke, once more wasting no words, “Please arrange yourself here, Paula. I’m sure you know how.”

“That thing’s a pillory. I absolutely refuse to stand in a pillory. Shove it!”

I was not expecting polished English. I raised the yoke an inch higher and asked a patient, “Please?”

“What do you want me to get fixed in that for?”

“Never mind, just arrange yourself.”

“Like bloody hell! You stick your own neck in there and see how you like it.”

I returned to my desk and was about to push the button when a youthful voice exclaimed, “Oh, very well! You needn’t call the guards in again. I know you’ve got me. Which way do you want me to face?” I wondered if her question bespoke awareness but realized it was sensible enough. If we were to converse, she would need to face my desk, since I would not wish conversation with her ass facing me. Sweetly, I suggested, “That’s thoughtful of you, dear, please face the wall.”

“That means you’re going to do something to me.” This girl was sharp. “Could I have my back to the wall? I’d feel a lot safer.”

“Do as I tell you.”

Paula Crombie gave the proposition considerable thought. Her final decision no doubt was influenced by the presence of my aides beyond the door. In ill-humor, she inserted her neck, arranged her hair, and then placed her wrists in the neat half circles. When I lowered the yoke, she commented remorsefully, “Mother never warned me about anything like this. Are you sure you’re not going to cane my arse?”

“How did you guess!” I exclaimed coyly. “Remember, dear, it’s because mother said so.”

“Mother’s being horrible. She’s a beastly old fan. Look, Miss Durrant, you won’t really do it, will you? I mean, you’re not really going to cane my bottom, are you?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, dear.”

“But I can’t move. Not the way you’ve got me fixed in this damned contraption. If you whip my bottom now, it will be damned unsporting.”

“But most effective?”

“How would I know!”

“Are you quite sure you’ve never been in this situation before, Paula? You seem to be much aware of possibilities?”

“That’s none of your business, Miss Durrant. If you put me in the horrible thing to whip me, you may as well let me out right now. If you don’t, I shall go straight to the police.”

“And how will you do that, dear?”

Poor Crombie burst into tears, tears of frustration, of humiliation, and above all tears of defeat. Between sobs she said, “I knew I never should have stuck my head in here. I knew you were going to do something awful...” Her tone became anxious. “How many cuts with the cane do I have to get?”

I loved her dearly, Undoubtedly this was not her first association with the cane. I went to the wall and chose a wicked yellow length to hold for Paula’s inspection and to inform. “I think you should kiss it, dear, in recognition of what it’s going to do to you.”

“Kiss that beastly thing! No way!”

“Kissing is a choice between ten and twenty, Paula, dear.”

Miss Paula Crombie kissed the cane. It was erotically stimulating to possess a girl’s naked body but not her head or hands. Miss Paula Crombie kicked dramatically as I striped the pretty little rump she weaved back and forth as best she could. There were the usual vocalisations but I guessed Paula was clenching her teeth so as to not give me the satisfaction of a scream. I intended only the British “Six of the Best,” and after the third had implanted its kiss, I walked around to see how the owner of a caned bottom was making out. Her sobbings paused long enough for her to say, “You needn’t think I’ll plead for mercy, you ... You...” Prudently she shut up.

It does not take long to implant six strokes of a cane upon a girl’s bottom. I comforted this wistful thought with reflection on the number of pretty bottoms still to be dealt with. When I had set aside the cane to step around and dry Paula’s tears and kiss her moist forehead, I inquired gently. “I suppose you understand why you’ve just been caned?”

“No. I don’t. I haven’t done a thing to deserve it since I came here. You haven’t given me a chance since I came here, locked up in that lousy cage.”

“Take a guess.”

“Oh, all right. I suppose it’s some introduction thing, an awful example of what will happen to me if I’m not a good girl.” She raised her head to stare. “Is that right?”

“Absolutely. I knew you were intelligent, dear. Now I’ll let you out and you can return to you companions.”

Poor, dear child. I still had one more shock in store. As she stood massaging her whipped bottom, I produced the handcuffs and dangled them suggestively. It did not register at first, but when it did her retort was predicable, “What do you aim to do with those things?”

“Lock them on your wrists, dear.”

“Like hell you will! Handcuffs are for criminals, not for girls ... Have you any idea who my father is!”

“It doesn’t matter who your father is, dear, your father sent you here. Remember? Give my your hands.”

Always I was to discover this the most potent motion of all. Each girl in her turn saw handcuffs as the ultimate degradation. The cane they understood, even the cage. But to have their wrists manacled in the manner of convicts and criminals portrayed on television was a humiliation beyond bearing. It amused me to record how long it took for the little dears to consider the consequences before sticking out a pair of paws for the bit of steel. This was the first time and I enjoyed ever moment before Paula disgustedly thrust her hands in my direction and looked on in fascinated wonder as I clicked the shinning steel cuffs around her wrists. When it was done and her hands were firmly linked, Paula Crombie held up joined wrists in pure disbelief in what she saw. I enjoyed the moment immensely but she did not. I suppose her first retort was obvious enough, “The girls will all laugh at me if you send me back like this, all naked and chained up. My bottom is marked up. Do you have to!”

I assured the little darling that indeed I did. I summoned her escort and sent her back to the cage as an illustration to approximately forty other girls of Rockley’s discipline. Gratefully I sat back in my chair and poured myself a drink from the bar behind my desk, I was trembling with lust It might be easy to say that if you have whipped one, you have whipped them all. Avoiding a repetitious account of maiden squeaks and pretty little bottoms scored in scarlet, I did not find this completely true. Each girl varied vastly in their approach to punishment. There were even those among them who wept bitter tears of guilt and repentance when being brought to my office for their initial interview. Then there were others who were aggressively determined not to yield an inch in their aristocratic prerogative of pleasure without pain. Among these was Lady Rose Cressey.

I ran into Rose during my second day of interviews, My aides and I had neatly polished a technique which sent every handcuffed girl back to the cage in shameless nakedness to recount her adventures to a breathless audience. Lady Rose stood before my desk as though confronted by a leper. Her opening of hostilities was instant, “You’re American, I know about you. You intend to cane my arse, and put me in handcuffs.” She took a deep breath. “Look, can’t we make a deal?”

“What do you suggest?” I was curious.

“I’m sure you’re a lesbian. How’d it be you keep me for your private girl without benefit of cane or any of that other rubbish?”

“Suppose I double your penalties for such insolence?” It hit her hard. She had been assured and certain of results. Eagerly she offered, “Would you like me to undress? I have the loveliest body and you’re already looking at my lips. Please, Miss Durrant, don’t send me back to that cage.”

I might have been touched had it not been obvious I was being manipulated. However, I might as well avail myself of the opportunity rather than call in Constance and Betty. I agreed. “Very well, dear, take off your clothes. Let me see what you have to offer.”

A few moments later I was looking at quite exceptional nakedness. Rose was a beauty by any standard but was not a Lady. I dropped her title to cynically inquire, “My dear young woman, since you have everything figured out. Tell me what comes now?”

“You whip me, of course, Or is it just the cane?”

“Which do you prefer?”

I knew I was playing her game but I was curious.

“I know about the cane and the games you lesbians play.” Her voice was mocking. “I’ve been whipped and made love in the forests of pussy curls...” Her voice became a sneer, “How do you want it?”

“That’s the classic line of whores.”

“So, okay, I’m a whore.” Lady Rose struck a pose, a very sexy and flattering pose. “Why don’t you take your clothes off, Diane? That is your name, isn’t it?”

“You’re being impudent,” I said severely. “What do you expect to happen to you here at Rockley?”

“Kissing your cunt, is there anything else!”

“You spoke of being whipped?”

“Oh, sure, that goes along with the scene. Whip me, I won’t howl any louder than the other girls.” Her attitude became sly, “I’d love to whip you, too. Would you like that?”

It was evident Lady Rose was a handful. Considering those waiting my attention down in the cage, I had no time to waste. I went to the pillory and raised its yoke. Before she placed her neck and hands where they belonged, this brash young woman of nineteen kissed me hard as though to emphasize the offers she had made. Then, quite passively, placed her neck in the wood and thrust her wrists to where I could lock them tight. For very sure no girl beneath my command could be allowed the initiative. Beneath watching eyes I selected a suitable whip.

“The other girls all got caned,” came the accusing voice. She actually sounded triumphant.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I suppose not. I’m accustomed to being whipped. But the thing is, are you taking me up on my offer, Diane? I’ll make you terribly happy.”

“No, I’m not. Forget your notions of preferred treatment. You’ve been bad and I’m going to teach you a lesson.” I demonstrated by cutting a line across the white loveliness across Lady Rose’s back on which I now discerned the lingering marks of previous inflictions. “I think you’re a masochist but I’ll try my best to change your mind about what I am. You’re going to get twenty.”

The poor girl dissolved and, as I whipped the back and bottom she could not shield, she finally wept amid the cries of anguish. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Diane, not any more. Please, I can’t stand any more! Please stop whipping me.”

Thus Lady Rose met my whip. They came in great variety and all were mine to do with as I pleased!

It took me a week to induct them all. During that time I would occasionally view them through the bars of their cage, noting the increasing nudity in handcuffs and the diminishing ranks of those still clothed who saw in their stripped companions their future. As I worked through girl after girl, I realized that having them all captive in a single cage robbed their interview with me of drama and suspense. Whenever I found a girl blasé in her knowledge of events. I raised the ante from six to ten, or even ten to twenty if appropriate. For the first time in my legal career, I was winning every Case.

Some of my little girls limped back to the cage in a sorry state.

Twenty strokes across a bare bottom must leave its mark both on the tender flesh and their minds. These were girls who always had things their own way. They weren’t now!

As I drew near the end of these interviews, I became increasingly aware of a willingness to please. The girls who stood before me now had lost a good deal of their brazen attitude. There was one exception in the person of Elizabeth Lord who I interviewed immediately after she entered the door of Rockley. She radiated anger and a strength enough to level these stone walls. She was a married woman.

There was no great difference in our ages, perhaps five years.

Lady Elizabeth Lord stood before my desk in seething anger of a woman scorned. Here was no school girl requiring a caned rump. This one would well tax my knowledge of human nature to the limit. She did not wait for me to speak.

“I do not wish to be divorced. I value my marriage.” She was assessing me shrewdly while she spoke. “I can well imagine what this place is and I am well prepared to put up with a certain amount of pain and indignity to satisfy the idiot who sent me here. Perhaps we may find a mutual interest?”

“For instance?”

“If you’re a lesbian, I will service you. I am condemned to being striped by a whip. You will discover this in the notes I’ve just handed you, I believe I’m also condemned to other things, Herbert was a very angry man when he sent me here. But I’m sure you and I can work something out, I don’t want any of his lousy punishments.”

This one was not going to be easy. To gain time, I casually requested, “If you would be kind enough to remove your clothes?”

She stripped without comment The girl was adult and one for whom I felt sympathy. She was victim to a man!

“I have no choice but to mark your skin,” I told her reasonably.

“If I send you home without whip marks, I betray my trust.”

“Read on a bit, Miss Durrant, I’m not a bit sure you’re going to send me home.”

She was right! The terms of reference made Elizabeth Lord subject to indefinite imprisonment accompanied by most definite punishments. I cringed as I read her husband’s male fantasies of what his wife deserved, Elizabeth was beautiful. Elizabeth was intelligent. I wondered what I would do with her.

“You’re wondering if I belong here, aren’t you?” she said softly, “I don’t belong her and Herbert is doing this to me only to humiliate me and break me down. I suspect I’m about to join a bunch of frightened little girls?”

“How did you guess?” I tried to match my tone to hers. “Would you prefer to be separated in a separate cell?”

“Good gosh, is it really that bad!”

She stood there in her exceptional nudity and gazed askance. “What the devil am I up against?”

I did my best to explain. The youngsters were food for lust but this mature girl was something more. Desire follows no reason for any path. I desired Elizabeth with ever fiber of my being. Power and consequence radiated from Elizabeth in an aura I could not deny. While I had been in thought, her eyes had roved and lit upon the pillory. In laughing unconcern, she stepped across the room to where the grim and ugly contraption waited its next victim. She lifted and yoke and left if fall again to ask gaily, “Do I have to stand in this? Really?”

“I’m afraid you do.”

“Well, don’t let’s shed any tears over it Don’t worry about being a bitch. I’m actually curious.”

I began to understand why a man might send this glorious creature to Rockley, desiring her whittled down to a size he could handle, or with which he could compete. I was forced to recognize that from the moment she entered my office, she had held the initiative. For a few moments I had a vision of her contorting under my whip, I could think of no other way by which she might be subdued. But the vision faded without stirring my loins or generating the lust of punishment I felt so easily for the teenage flesh below stairs. Ignoring the pillory, I took her by the hand and led her upstairs to my bed. She made no demure, either about her nakedness or my intent She could read my mind, and when I, too, had shed my clothes, she acquitted herself with a competence and ardor I know I could easily enjoy for a long time. Here was a Woman!

I had forgotten the whip marks on my skin. But Elizabeth now traced them with an exploring fingertip with the vivid curiosity I would come to recognize was very much a part of all she was. I promised that one day I would tell her of their origin, but for the moment she had best keep quiet about them, Flippantly I told her they were my ‘badge of office.’

“Will I be marked like that?” she asked in innocence.

“Yes.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll hate it, of course, but it’s something I’ll have to know about. That silly man believes it’s something that will change my personality. Will it?”

“Only for a little while. It’s pretty bad for the first few hours.”

“Haven’t you found that being whipped the way you are, all those wonderful marks, lessens your authority?”

“You’re the only girl I’ve showed them to.”

“I know you’re finding me difficult.” Elizabeth Lord mused thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re equals, aren’t we? I’m not scared of you. There’s no need to chain me or put me in a cell. If I ran away, I’d defeat my own purpose in coming here.”

“But I can’t possibly allow you to run around free,” I said.

“Why not! Call me your assistant mistress or whatever you want. I’ll help you with the girls.”

“How can you help me with the girls if you’re standing in the pillory or hanging by you wrists or some of those other things your husband dreamed up. The best thing is for you to pack up and go home.”

“Do you want me to do that?”

“Hmmmmm ... Not really.”

“That’s settled then. I stay at Rockley and you make me scream the way my idiot man seems to wish. Perhaps you should whip me tomorrow. Is it much of a bother?”

She was as delicious as possible! I adored every inch of her firm breasts, taut belly, and curves. I plucked one of her pubic hairs from it’s roots to make her yelp and ask, still with interest, “Why did you do that?”

“Imagine yourself tied down tight with your legs well apart and someone with tweezers pulling out your hair, one at a time - does that pique your curiosity?”

“That’s nasty and disagreeable. Don’t talk about such things.”

“I have to talk about them if you stay here. Elizabeth, you’re crazy not to go home while you still can. Once Constance and Betty have incorporated you into life at Rockley, there’s no way I can let you go. If I did, it would be one more way to get myself some more of the marks you’re admiring.”

“Okay, okay! I’ve told you I’m not leaving, either now or later on. Do I have to be chained in a dungeon or is there some sort of badge I can wear?”

Elizabeth was going to be a handful, but a handful I didn’t wish to break or injure. I got a pair of handcuffs and dangled them in front of her nose. “How about these?” She was once more avidly curious. Taking my handcuffs, she explored their shinning surface almost hungrily.

“I’d feel silly with these on my wrists,” she admitted slowly. “But I guess they’re what the doctor ordered and I’ll wear them with pride. Will they defeat those dragons you mentioned a minute ago?”

“Not really. But if you’re very respectful to Constance and Betty, they’ll do for now. They’ll understand your sentiments about staying here because of your husband.”

“Marvelous! Put them on.” She held out her hands in sweet invitation.

“Not right now, I’m going to need those hands of yours. Come along.”

Elizabeth’s approach to the pillory was one of barely suppressed excitement without any trace of apprehension. She might be the lesbian of my dreams or a good actress. She might also be a masochist or a girl with a vivid sexual curiosity. She had me laughing, too, as I raised the yoke and she positioned her neck and wrists as though having done it every day of her life. When I lowered the yoke to make her prisoner, I could swear she sighed with happiness. So did I.

I stood back to allow us both to savor her imprisonment.

Elizabeth was turning her head this way and that even though it chaffed her captive neck. Her hands were equally active with the same result. Then she remarked, “I can’t possibly get loose, can I? You can keep me in this thing forever.”

“Do you find it frightening?”

“Not with you standing by. I’d hate to be alone.”

“Suppose I leave you here for a couple of hours?”

“I can’t argue, can I? But I’d rather you didn’t.”

She cocked a laughing eyebrow. “This pillory isn’t all... Is it? There’s something else?”

I took the yellow cane from the wall and let her have a good look. I flexed it back and forth before holding it to her lips. “Kiss it.”

Elizabeth kissed the damned thing as if she were kissing me. It was almost a love affair. “You’re not going to whip me with that thing.” she said. “You know. If that’s what you’ve got in mind, I’d sooner pass.”

I wasn’t sure the normal ‘six of the best’ would do much good. I was dealing with a female so heavily sexed I’d probably have to strip her a dozen times to make contact. Without further conversation I cut with the cane across Elizabeth’s gorgeous bottom six times as hard as I could. When I came around the pillory, feeling a bitch. I saw only a naked girl who had made a tremendous discovery. “Darling, I almost climaxed, you should have given me a couple more. Be a dear girl and finish me off with your finger? Please?” Elizabeth was still in charge. I did as she asked, more because I wanted to than by her command. But the command was there and unmistakable. “You’ve only had the beginning, darling,” I told her gently when she ceased to pant and moan, “I’m afraid there’s more to come.”

“You mean you intend to cane my seat some more!”

“I really think you need it.” I patted her bottom. “Somehow I’ve got to make you understand you don’t order me around.”

Elizabeth was shifting around against her imprisoned neck and wrists. She was also raising and lowering one foot, her voice was heavy with reason. “If my seat has to be caned again, I’ll climax for sure, Be a darling and watch for the signs and sounds and make sure you thrash me as hard as you can when the moment comes.” Her voice was vibrant with shared knowledge, She was utterly mine but I knew also I was hers. I delivered her second six in a vicious determination to compel her to see me as I was. But my flesh was aberrant and I was compelled to add two truly awful strokes to accommodate Elizabeth’s twisting and moaning within the pillory. I had given her fourteen truly awful strokes across her bottom but was not the least bit sure she had felt a single one. At least not in the way I had meant them.

The aftermath of orgasm is a very private time for a girl. While she hovers in the never-never land of ecstasy it is kind to let her dreams come true. I slipped away, leaving Elizabeth Lord held tight in the solid oak of the pillory and unaware of my going. I decided I would leave her there a while and allow her to experience the anxieties of someone thus captive and alone. I was all too aware of an attraction between us which might prove an embarrassment. Elizabeth was here to be punished and I had little doubt the most potent part of that punishment would be to find herself upon a common level with the other inmates among whom she would stand out as different. Running across Constance, I directed her to release Elizabeth in two hours time, handcuff her, and place her in the big cage. Since I was robbed of my office with Elizabeth there in the pillory, I went downstairs to extract from among resentful delinquents, the next maiden on my list for Rockley’s unkind attention.

I have to admit to a breathless delight in surveying the prisoners behind the bars. Their captivity, their nakedness, along with handcuffed wrists was still new and quite incredible. Only a few of the prisoners accepted the shinning steel which joined their hands, most were still tugging fretfully in a stunned disbelief, Since they no longer saw me as an avenue of escape, they did not bother to approach the bars but stayed exactly as they were, sitting on the floor, talking in animated groups, or isolated pairs. As a slow introduction to what Rockley held for them, I had instructed my aides to use any slightest excuse or expedient to punish and condemn by taking the innocent young hands from front to back where they became much more helpless. The mixture made a pretty picture.

Her name was Victoria Ponsby. She turned out to be one of those with her hands behind her back. When I called her name, her manner said plainly it was about time someone gave her proper attention. She stalked to where I stood, and glared at me as though I were the reason I was here. “I shall refuse to discuss anything with you until you unlock these horrible things on my wrists.” she said as though dictating terms. “I have never been so shabbily treated in my life and I am sure my parents will be outraged when they hear of these indignities.”

It was so stilted I wanted to laugh. I said no word but grasp a handful of her hair to lead her to a vacant cell where I made her stand to answer my questions while I sat on the only chair in the cell and used the hard bench as a table. Behind her front, Victoria was scared to death and not yet ready to deliver another diatribe. I set the pace. “I have a list of your crimes. Victoria, so we need not go into that. Have you ever been whipped?”

“Of course not! You must be mad.”

“I suppose you’ve noticed the marks of the cane on the bottom of some of the other girls?”

“It’s one of the things I’ll report to the police at the first opportunity. Please free my hands.”

Victoria was delicious, a perfect subject for anyone wishing to bring a proud maiden down to size. Undoubtedly her parents knew what they were doing when they sent her to Rockley. Quietly I said, “You will not be in contact with the police, Victoria, and you hands will not be unlocked.”

“Then, at least give me some clothes, some sort of covering ... I am constantly ashamed of this nakedness.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll soon be wearing some very pretty stripes.”

She must have known it was coming but Victoria was one of those girls who believed bad things happened to other people, not her. “If you are referring to corporal punishment, you’d best forget it as far as I’m concerned. I would never consent to such an unwarranted outrage.”

Victoria was amusingly predictable, a cliche for every need! But I was in no hurry and was enjoying her. Besides, my stock of new girls was running low as I had dealt with most of the girls in the cage. “Will you bend over to have your bottom caned, Victoria, or would you prefer to be fastened?” I inquired casually. “Every girl at Rockley gets her bottom caned upon arrival in order to give her a proper perspective on punishment. You are no exception.”

Poor child! She was breathing more and more rapidly and obviously less and less certain of the sanctity of her skin. She stood before me in the little cell, eyes roving in search of possible avenues of escape and finding none. She then asserted as if believing every word, “I refuse to submit. I will neither bend over nor allow myself to be fastened.” After a lengthy pause, she added, pitifully, “I want to go home.”

I sighed as though with weariness, even though my heart was pounding in pleasurable anticipation. I rose and once more possessed myself of Victoria’s abundant hair and led her to where the simplest of preparations awaited our attention. The rope from above was the correct length and the hook at its terminus ideally designed for handcuffs. Seeing her fate, Victoria fought and came up with a number of expressions far less stilted than her normal speech. But I had no difficulty in raising her arms and slipping the chain between her steel-clad wrists within the curve of the waiting hook. I stood away and there she was; flushed in the face and twisting in disbelief against raised arms and hurting wrists. Her hair fell towards the floor as she was forced to bend to a degree she would not have chosen herself. Amused. I grabbed her waist with an arm and used my other hands to smooth and explore the tight, round bottom.

“Don’t you dare, you rotten bitch!” she hollered. “You needn’t think you’re going to spank my bottom and get away with it. If you want to spank an arse, use your own!”

I had not intended anything so juvenile but, since the little madam was so concerned over a spanking, I promptly delivered a number of stinging blows with my palm. When her twin contours were pleasantly pink, I reminded her gently. “This is just a little warming up, Victoria. What I want you to do now is ask me respectfully to stripe this pretty little bottom with the cane. I am waiting.”

“Drop dead!”

I had Victoria immobilized and continued the application of my palm on her bottom. There is no need to relate her colorful exclamations of distress, but their tone slowly waned as her flesh reddened until she asked, “What was that you wanted me to ask for?”

“Six with the cane on your bare skin, dear.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t possibly do that.”

“If you don’t ask for them nicely, I will increase the number to twelve. The choice is yours. Victoria, please be sensible.”

I left Victoria to think about her predicament. Time was on my side and all I would get from her right now was heated arguments. I purposely slammed the cell door.

I now had a couple of delinquent charges on hold. And, since I was not yet ready to release Elizabeth Lord, I left the house to view the garden and grounds, which I felt sure offered many possibilities for discipline. The area was vast and I had no time to explore all at the moment. When I returned to Victoria’s cell, I had several new ideas. Miss Victoria was actually glad to see me.

“You’ve been gone for hours.” she accused. “And I’ve been standing like this all the time. It’s not a bit fair.”

“Twenty minutes, Victoria, that was all. I hope you’ve reached a decision.”

It poured from the unhappy maiden in the urgency of terrible decision, “Please cane my bottom, Miss Durrant...” She obviously had more to say but swallowed visibly instead. No doubt she was afraid. The yellow cane was already in hand. I swished it in the air so she could hear it’s whine before rapping her pretty little butt on which it was about to leave its print. I made my voice as gentle as I could, “Hold your breath, dear, it won’t take long.”

In actual time it took several minutes to plant six strokes across the animated flesh. Stroke number one sent my almost helpless maiden into such a series of contortions and complaints, I stood and watched her performance in a small measure of awe, There was no way Victoria’s raised arms could escape the hook but she danced and pranced and swirled around. When I suggested she resume the proper position, she said she could not possibly offer her bottom for me because it hurt far too much. When I moved to reach her bottom, she circled around within the small distance allowed her by the tether so as to keep her seat of punishment as far from me as she could. Unhurriedly, I suggested, “I can strike any part of you, Victoria, and it will hurt a great deal more than caning your bottom Why not be a sensible girl?”

“You wouldn’t!”

Victoria’s bowed head pointed in my direction so I simply tapped the side of her large breast and fear flashed into her eyes. She turned her bottom my direction without a word. I slashed the round bottom with the rest of her six strokes, then said brightly, “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was awful!”

“Very well, it was awful. But it will serve as a reminder if you wish to consider disobedience or insolence in the future.”

I think my inspection by touch of her wounds offended Victoria as much as the wounds themselves. She winced and moaned, and shifted her feet back and forth, and produced a whelp of dismay when I patted the red marks firmly. I resumed my seat.

There was a brief silence before a plaintive voice inquired, “Aren’t you going to let me loose. Miss Durrant?”

“I prefer you as you are, dear. Keep that little bottom of yours pointing in my direction so I can admire it and watch the pretty colors change.”

Poor, dear girl. She had to digest everything I said before answering. I knew she wanted her arms lowered but was now prudent enough not to order me to do that. She shifted her feet and sought some comfort from a position that gave very little. I knew I should feel an absolute bitch but was coming by the conviction that what I was doing to this spoilt teenager was the best possible treatment. Already she had come a little way down from her high horse, but the tone still had hints of haughtiness in it. “How about letting my arms down? And will you put me back in that cage with the rest of them?” She made it sound like a fate worse than death.

“If you prefer isolation. I can lock you in this cell and leave you alone. And I do mean alone! Would you like that?”

“It’s a horrible idea. I hate it!”

“But you could do as you like, no one to bother you.”

“That’s what they call being put in solitary, it’s a punishment. Thank you. I’ll go back to the cage.”

“That’s not for you to say, dear. We have this lovely cell for you, and further down there’s a lovely dungeon with some lovely heavy chains. Just think, you could sleep the whole day through!”

“I don’t want to sleep the whole day through. I’m sorry, Miss Durrant, that I was impertinent. I’m going to try and be more the way you want. Please don’t punish me anymore.”

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice if you asked me to give you six more with the cane - just to show good faith.”

Victoria stood still and stopped struggling. She seemed to be trying to consider the impossible. Her voice was meek, “That’s just to humiliate me, isn’t it? You think I’ve been proud and this will break my pride.”

“You’re very perceptive, Miss Ponsby.”

“I’m also very helpless, and you’re taking a terribly mean advantage. Please, Miss Durrant, don’t make me say that.”

“You must. Or else!”

Quietly, Miss Victoria Ponsby began to cry. Tears fell to the stone floor. Finally she pleaded brokenly, “Please cane my bottom six more times, Miss Durrant. I’m sorry about failing to please.”

It was almost too heartbreakingly beautiful to be real. I patted the marked bottom before cutting at it again and again with the yellow cane. Victoria could not possibly stand still and danced most delightfully. Victoria’s tears flowed steadily throughout her second punishment, and at the end it was I who dried her cheeks, When I took her handcuffs from the hook, she surprised me.

“I think I ought to hate you, Miss Durrant, but I don’t. I think it’s silly but I’m loving you terribly. I want to see you naked the way you have me. Please?”

It was an interesting shock, something I had not seen in this girl.

But there was about the request the same hint of dominance, the act of talking down to a social inferior I had seen before. I refrained from any insincere expression of outrage but simply said, “You’re asking for something you’re not ready for, Victoria, nor am I ready to grant your wish. You will see me naked in my own good time, but I will always see you naked as I see you now. Get used to it.”

“Yes, Miss Durrant.”

I took Victoria’s cuffed hands from behind her back and locked them in front. I felt actually involved with this girl who, even though taking a predictable course, had done so with elegance, Her real punishment would be explaining away twelve marks instead of six when displayed before her fellow prisoners. I kissed her and locked her inside the cage.

Upstairs, still locked in the pillory, Elizabeth Lord was waiting.