Golden Wrists

7 Whips & Girls & Things

I never found it easy to adjust myself to being alternately a lawyer and a slavegirl. The two do not mix, although I am sure they provide erotic contrast for the male who calls the shots. I have often wondered why I did not break my promise, but this was something I wanted to do, In the morning my hands were still tight bound behind my back and the collar tight locked on my neck. But at least I could go to the bathroom without hindrance. Which was a damned sight more than Margo could. She was still gagged so we could not compare notes, but she had surrendered to her chains and slept upon the floor as best she could. Today I would be a lawyer while Margo Hammil remained the plaything of the man who was our master. Hugo was deliberately mean in delaying the release of her chained ankle. When I came out of the bathroom she was gone, and since Hugo had vanished; too, and had, most honorably, set me free, I dressed in my clothes and went to the kitchen to ensure coffee.

My office enfolded me in a familiar warmth. I applied myself vigorously to the various channels by which Hugo’s claim to the Estate might be pursued. I didn’t even bother with lunch and received no male invitation to partake, a factor which left me more miffed than I cared to admit. It was not until close to quitting time that I allowed myself the luxury of envisioning Margo’s torments throughout the day. I turned the key to Hugo’s front door in pleasant anticipation.

Margo was waiting, her ankles leg-ironed, her wrists handcuffed.

As I enter the hall she knelt in greeting and to pay homage to a female who was free while she was not. Kneeling there in meek humility, she made as pretty a picture as I have ever seen. The gag was still locked tight across her lips. But by motions and funny little sounds she led me to the lounge where Hugo and I enjoyed our cocktail before dinner. It was a cocktail prepared by a girl in chains for the first time in her life. Hugo was in an expansive mood.

We accepted our drinks before the Master spoke. I was still a free girl for the rest of the day but Margo knelt before us in mute submission she could do nothing about. Margo had undoubtedly had the course!

“I haven’t whipped her yet. I’m saving that for tomorrow and you.” Hugo explained grand unconcern. “She’s been obedient so far but I’ve told her what to expect. She hasn’t made too much fuss about it because I’ve kept that gag locked tight over her mouth. Want me to relieve her of it so she can talk?”

“Relieve her of it anyway, Hugo. It’s a beastly thing to have to suffer, I should know.”

Hugo actually followed my request. A girl can never be quite sure what Hugo would or would not do. I think he wanted to hear what Margo had to say as much as I. She took my drink in chained hands to moisten her mouth so she could speak. She spoke directly to me, “Our Master says I am to be whipped tomorrow, along with you. Is this what slavegirls must expect?”

“Of course. And we’re not supposed to complain.”

Margo responded, “Very well. I asked for this and mustn’t complain. Will you be whipped, too?”

“Quite probably.”

“Our Master has explained the terms of your indenture.” She was giving me her full attention. “I’m not sure I understand it, but you seem to be acting most honorably.” She turned to Hugo. “Am I behaving as you wish, Master?”

Considering she had not yet been whipped, Margo was doing remarkably well. I could feel pretty sure I was stuck with her the next day, and being given a whipping with her. But after that I could see light and hope ahead. With only the faintest trace of sarcasm, I told her, “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure I’ll scream every bit as much as you. Being whipped isn’t the least bit nice but men seem to think that’s what girls are for. Don’t worry, darling, we’ll both get plenty of bondage afterwards, probably a lot more than we’ll enjoy. Being a slave is wonderful.”

“Diane, you and I are going out to dinner.” Hugo was enjoying his twin possessions. “Margo hasn’t earned the privilege, so she’ll stay at home. Nicely secured, of course. That please you, Margo?” I saw the flash of hurt. The poor girl could probably have used food and gaiety after whatever Hugo had been doing to her through the day. Her tone was no longer submissive. “I would have hoped to be included. Frankly, I’d enjoy going out to dine. Please take me with you.”

“Request denied. Slave girls never get anything they ask for.”

Hugo was feeling his oats.

I saw the kneeling girl wince, saw, too, the rebellious tug a the handcuffs. But I also realized that there was some sort of rapport between these two and could not be sure what was real and what was feigned in this master/slave relationship. I refused to think of tomorrow and was well content to watch what now took place. I could tell Margo was as surprised as I when the omnipotent Male unlocked both leg irons and handcuffs to leave her standing free. Margo looked from on to the other of us in uncertainty, giving me time to once more admire the exquisite contours of her femaleness, and to see the rebellion in her eyes. If Hugo had taken steps to break her spirit during the day, I expect it was about to flare anew in feminine indignation. But flight or fight was soon nullified by Hugo grasping a handful of slavegirl hair and shaking it vigorously to admonish. “I know what you’re thinking and I know what you’d like to do. Forget it! Come along.”

“Let go, you’re mussing my hair. Where are you taking me anyway? Look, I want to go with you and Diane to the restaurant. Stop yanking my hair, it hurts!”

“Downstairs!”

I followed the master and his slavegirl down the fateful steps. I hate having my hair dragged around the way Margo’s was, it hurts and makes a girl terribly helpless. When we reached the little cell with it’s barred door, Hugo used no key but thrust his captive against the bars. “Stand still. Margo, this is where you get tied.”

Once more I could not be sure of them, but with her hair free, Margo reacted instantly. “You can take your lousy master business and shove it,” she retorted tartly, while, at the same time, aiming a bare heel at Hugo’s groin. “If you think I’m taking this kind of treatment...!”

It was as far as she got. Hugo neatly sidestepped her kick and grasped her ankle to leave her hopping on one foot in defeat. To keep herself from falling, Margo hopped back against the bars, which she clutched with outstretched arms. She glared angrily and demanded. “Let go of my foot! Don’t stand there holding it like a dummy!”

“Nice way to keep you under control, sweetheart.”

It must have been one insult too many. Thrusting herself from the bars, Margo actually managed to jerk her foot free and head for the stairs. She got only four paces before her hair was once more in a strong male hand and she was cruelly jerked back to the spot where Hugo intended her to spend our dinner time. He demanded, “Tie her waist back to the bars, Diane, she’s a handful.”

Feeling a bitch, I did as I was told. Margo was amusing and whether her fight was real or make believe, it provided entertainment. I slipped several bands of rope around her narrow waist and the bars behind and cinched it very tight indeed before stepping back to watch the rest of Margo’s bondage. Girl smell was heavy in the air. And I was pretty sure that if I tested Margo’s private place, I would find it juicy and ready. While our captive tugged vainly at my ropes now holding her, Hugo tied her feet in similar fashion to inhibit the kicks which were now Margo’s only weapon. I was surprised how he took the trouble to tie them far apart to obtain the maximum exposure of the struggling girl. It was easy for him now to noose a wrist and drag it out and up to be tied against a waiting bar, and to have it’s twin similarly bound in stretched helplessness on the other side. Margo was now a lovely naked butterfly, secured against the bars of her cell, breasts heaving and her skin wet with sweat.

Hugo and I watched our captive’s struggles in pure rapture. The poor girl couldn’t move much at all, but did her best while muttering savage curses and protests in our direction.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Hugo asked pleasantly.

“I wanted to go and dine with you.” Margo appeared to have a one track mind. “You could have tied me up when we came home if that what you wanted to do. And if I didn’t decide to pack the whole thing up and walk away. I think you’re being terribly mean.”

It was a beautiful job and Margo soon stopped struggling.

Satisfied at her helplessness, Hugo examined each one of her bonds, tightening where ever possible before producing the hated gag and a short length of chain. “You don’t dare put that damned thing in my mouth,” Margo said heatedly. “I could scream my head off down here and no one would hear. I don’t want to be gagged!”

“That’s why you will be.” Hugo held up to view the leather and steel punishment. “Open that pretty mouth.”

Poor Margo, I knew how she felt! But after initial resistance, she accepted the inevitable and allowed her mouth to be filled with the hateful wad and her lips sealed. The strap was unkindly tight around her head. It should have been enough but Hugo was taking no chances as he circled a bar with the short length of chain to gather the end links within the grasp of a truly awful padlock which was used also to seal and secure the straps of Margo’s gag. “You can’t trust a girl,” Hugo said cheerfully. If she gets the rest of herself loose, she won’t be able to do a thing about that. Rather neat, don’t you think?”

The last I saw of Margo before we went away was a tear slowly making its way down one lovely cheek. If that tear came from hurt feelings or the defeat of tight bondage, I was not to know.

That night my only bond in bed was the collar and chain, Hugo being nice enough to explain that he had something else in mind that required my hands not be tied. He then inflicted a night of pure frustration upon a young woman who was getting everything she was asking for, her hands being tight joined by thumb cuffs and her big toes similarly locked. Hugo thoughtfully looped a length of chain between my legs and locked each end to a side of the bed to leave me the freedom of floundering around as much as I pleased. But I could go nowhere. Never had I been held by so little steel.

As I lay there in my minimal but very secure steel cuffs, I had to give a thought to poor Margo downstairs in her cell, still bound and gagged. She must certainly be getting used to that gag. And I wondered, as Hugo spread my legs and entered me, if Margo was jealous over what she knew was going on in our bed while she spent a lonely night.

As owner of two female slaves, Hugo proved impartial. For Margo, her second day of captivity was pretty much a mystery but the tone of his voice as he told me I was to be whipped left no doubt that I was to be used as a demonstration for Margo’s benefit, but also, as Hugo insistently hinted, to hurry me up in getting results on my master’s claim. I couldn’t relax and enjoy it but did my best simply to relax.

Two naked girls with arms wide apart above their heads, their wrists strapped tight! I am sure we made a pretty picture of feminine helplessness and acute anxiety. A girl never really gives up hope of escaping a whipping until the first stroke burns across her skin. The fastening of Margo in the same manner as myself had caused our master a good deal of trouble and his slave a good deal of discomfort in the jerking of her hair. The threats of what would happen if she failed to stand still helped.

“I’m going to whip Diane first so you can get the hang of it, Margo, and see how she behaves,” Hugo explained helpfully. “I do hope you girls get something out of this. I know it keeps Diane on the ball in the work she performs for me. And for you, Margo, it’s the start of an education. There is a belief that after a whipping has been done to a girl, she’s never the same again. I’ll be glad of your opinion.” He chuckled gleefully. “You have to stand there for now, not knowing when the whipping will start. That’s part of the suspense. And the punishment. It gives you a chance to chat. I should gag you but I won’t. You did spend the night gagged, you remember?”

He left without waiting for an answer from Margo. This was old hat for me but for Margo it was discovery. She was still panting from the struggle. She voiced her puzzlement, “I still don’t understand why you do this, Diane, the allowing him to make you prisoner every other day and punishing you so.”

“No crazier than you, darling. You wanted what you’re about to get, so stop worrying. Relax and enjoy.”

“That’s not funny. If I could walk out of here right now, I would. Is he serious about it? I mean, does it hurt real bad?”

“He’s serious, and it hurts terribly.”

“Well, don’t sound so damned smug about it. I’m glad you’re being whipped, too, Diane. If you can stand it, I suppose I can.”

“You think you’re going to die but you never do. Honestly, Margo, is this what you wanted?”

“I suppose it goes along with what I wanted,” Margo conceded.

“When I used to dream about it, it was always of ropes and chains and iron bars and things. I never dreamed of being whipped, but I can understand how it sort of fits.”

Margo was obviously doing some thinking. “I’ll admit that the way he tied me to those bars last night thrilled me to bits. I hated being left behind when you went to dinner. And when you two were having all the fun in bed. But that sort of added a spice while I was left alone. I spent many hours trying to get loose but I never did. But I’ll also admit to an indecent sort of thrill in having my pussy so exposed. Gosh, I’d never have believed!”

“Does being fastened the way we are now hit you the same way?”

“Sort of ... But it’s overshadowed by knowing what’s going to happen. I mean the whip. I’m scared.” There came an awkward pause. “Diane, dear, do you get all juicy at times like this? I’m being positively indecent.”

“Oh, sure. It’s part of being female. I was ashamed of it myself at first but now I don’t even think of it. If a girl was really frigid, I suspect she could be cured by having someone fasten her the way we are and giving her a good whipping.”

Margo was taking all my words very seriously and constantly stepping from foot to foot. She also looked up often at her strapped wrists as though she needed reassurance of her helplessness. There was a tinge of embarrassment as she inquired. “Can you stand still, Diane, I mean, are we expected to be stoic and stand still while we get whipped, or do you dance around? You know what I mean.”

“I usually manage to stand still for the first one or two, but after that I just loose control and behave disgracefully. I’ve never pretended to like being beaten. Don’t worry about behaving, just do what comes naturally and don’t be ashamed of anything, even pleading for mercy.”

“Gosh, you sound as though you know it all, Diane. I envy the way you’re handling it. Is Hugo really this mean a man?”

“No. He’s a nice guy. And the way he got started on this slavegirl kick is a long story. I suspect most men would like to do what he’s doing to us now. It’s easy to analyze their feelings if you want to bother. But everything will hurt just as bad after you’ve figured it out, so what’s the point?”

Hugo gave us an hour in which to shiver and struggle at our bonds. Even though I knew all about it, it was just as potent as back that first time, and I knew it always would be. When out master returned he spread on the floor between us an array of whips and riding crops and some wicked looking straps.

“Nothing like a bit of variety to keep you girls on your toes,” he remarked as he picked up a supple length of leather which I think used to be called a flagellum in ancient Rome, and let me have it with the full strength of his arm across both cheeks of my bottom. I wasn’t the least bit prepared and squeaked and danced and kicked at a new and awful pain as the impact spread itself across my previous punishment. As I panted and contorted I was well aware of Margo’s interested eyes and of Hugo’s enjoyment of his work.

“That’s not fair!” I protested when I caught my breath. “That’s not like the last time. It’s terrible.”

“I thought it might be,” Hugo said casually. “If you don’t like it where you sit, would you care to suggest some other portion of your person?”

“No, I wouldn’t! I don’t want to be whipped at all, and I don’t see why I have to be whipped.”

“You wouldn’t want to cheat Margo of an interesting introduction to punishment ... Would you?”

“Yes, I would! She’ll learn all about it the same way I did.” I turned my attention to the instruments of punishment which were tastefully arranged for inspection. They all looked deadly, so I asked pathetically like a little child anxious to please, “Perhaps if you whipped my back with something that’s not too unkind...?”

Hugo chose another strap, a lighter one, and I tensed for new and different pain. Beneath its shock I lifted myself from the floor and kicked wildly. I guess the second strap was kinder than the first but applied resoundingly upon my back and curling beneath my breast it felt no less terrible than the one he had used across my seat. During the following five snapping and cracking strokes, I managed to scream only twice before standing limply while my master decided what to use on me next. I made no suggestions.

For the life of me I could not fail to watch each selection chosen to impact my skin. If they were wickedly severe, I expect Hugo held his arm. For the rest, he let me have it full force. It was a different instrument for each of the next five strokes, which he delivered slowly to give me time to do my dance and kick savagely at the air as though it was the source of pain. I screamed each time he struck me, half in agony and half in anger that I should thus so needlessly suffer. As blow followed blow, I knew for sure that even if I had to move mountains, I would do something positive to further Hugo’s claim. Here and there, as crop or cane or whip bit at me, I managed a small smile towards the girl who’s turn was coming. As though to live up to my own prophesy, I heard my own voice weakly plead, “Oh, Hugo, please stop! Don’t hurt me any: more. Hugo, I’m asking you, please stop!”

“I don’t see why I should stop, Diane. And do you usually address a Master in such terms?” Hugo was in his element.

“Please stop whipping me, Master. Please stop.”

With a double-thongs quirt, Hugo started to whip me once again, I got what seemed a regulation twenty, I did not count them but was told afterwards of the count. By the time Hugo was through with me, I glistened with sweat and smelt outrageously of musk. My wrists were still as tightly strapped as before the first blow. Slowly I panted my way back to where I dared meet Margo’s horrified regard.

I’m sure it was a vivid tableau, myself, the sweating punished girl, Hugo standing midway and smiling at us both as he chose the instrument he would use on Margo’s virgin skin. And Margo, who had no doubts about helplessness and vulnerability, gave voice to conviction, “I don’t want to be whipped, Master. I know I could never stand it the way Diane did. Please don’t whip me. I’ll promise to do anything and everything you ask. I’ll be the humblest of slaves. But please don’t mark my skin with those horrible things.”

She paused, visibly trembling, while her master paid no heed and made his choice. Without preamble he dealt with his new slavegirl in the same manner as he had dealt with me. That awful leather was lapping from hip to hip across the lovely contours she could not hide. I watched unwillingly but utterly fascinated.

It was really something to see and left me gasping in disbelief. After the frightful crack as leather bit at flesh, Margo neither moved or spoke but turned to gaze back over a bare, raised arm to the man readying himself for another stroke of the limber leather. “Is that the best you can do, Mr. Markham,” she inquired carelessly before turning away to stare into some horizon of her own, I was appalled!

It was a beautiful, courageous assertion of feminine pride, something Margo had to do. Hugo stood admiring the single wound. No doubt he understood Margo’s defiance but gave it no sympathy. His second blow was every bit as wicked as the first. It stung Margo into a silence from which she emerged in a pealing scream of agony and outrage, while her naked loveliness proclaimed an outrage of its own in a series of jerks and a little dance upon air. While she was thus frantically engaged, Hugo struck again and then again until his leather had planted itself five times upon female contours no strap should ever touch. He then ceased to inquire pleasantly, “Was that what you expected, Miss Hammil?”

“Oh, damn you to hell!” Margo got the words out with difficulty between gasps and moans. “You don’t have to hit me so hard, you don’t have to do this at all. Please don’t whip me any more. Please stop ... Master?”

“You only just remembered that ‘master’ bit at the end, didn’t you?” Hugo inquired. “I must find a reminder.” The captive eyes followed ever move. Breasts heaved and she panted. When the strapped girl beheld Hugo’s choice, her cry was piteous. “Not that! Oh, Master, not that! I saw what that did to Diane, and I know I can’t bare it. Please, please, please!”

Hugo sliced the virgin back five times with the chosen but fearful instrument. I know he was not applying it as hard as he might have done, but Margo evidently could not tell for her performance equaled my own in its intensity of feminine surrender.

I had to hand it to Hugo that he whipped us only from behind, leaving our breasts still virgin. It’s bad enough for a girl to be whipped on her back and where she sits down but there are other far more intimate places into which or across which a leather thong might impart its venom. Actually, I suppose both Margo and I were that day treated with male mercy we did not realize while it was taking place. Suddenly two naked maidens were alone and panting in our bonds while drops of sweat trickled from our bodies. After a while, my companion ventured timidly. “Is it really over?”

“I think so. He’s leaving us to stand like this just to make sure we think about the punishment. Like when he left us before the whipping.”

“Are you quite sure, Diane, he won’t come back and whip us some more?”

“A girl can’t be sure of anything while she’s fixed the way we’re fixed. That damned man can do anything he wants to us.”

Hugo must have been doing some thinking while he was gone for when he returned he tied my left wrist to a ring in the wall overhead, then did the same for Margo’s right, making sure we were well apart to make his next little trick possible. He crossed my right ankle over Margo’s left and tied them tight before raising them up to attach them to one more ring, just high enough to assure discomfort and placing them out of-reach of our hands. Noting the instability of our posture, he most kindly cinched our waists back to one more ring in the concrete wall in a fashion to give us support from which we would have no wish to free ourselves since it was the only help we were getting in a damnably horrid posture. He stood back to admire his work, “You make a really lovely pair,” he enthused with genuine enjoyment of our feminine exposure. “I like the raised leg effect. It shows both of you to good effect. And you tied ankles make a nice communion, don’t you think?”

I didn’t dare complain, it could be worse. But Margo apparently did not feel the same. “It’s horrible,” she said with real feeling. “It’s an absolutely indecent exposure, I don’t like this. Do something else.”

Poor girl, I wondered if she really believed we had anything to say about our punishment. Hugo kissed us both, Margo too startled to protest, then went about his own affairs, leaving us to stand like a couple of storks. It wasn’t a good situation for two naked girls.

We each had a free arm and hand and looked at them in doubtful speculation. Our first act was to a make a dive for our fastened feet but our other tied hand were too high and wide. Our fingers could get nowhere near the ropes tightly knotted on our ankles. We might have gone to work on the ropes around our waists but that would rob us of stability.

“I don’t believe this!” Margo cried. “Is this the sort of thing he does all the time?”

“I think he wants us to enjoy communion,” I suggested. “Mostly you get tied to a tree or a post or chair, or spread-eagle on a bed. But Hugo does really try for innovations. I’ll be he’s watching somewhere through a peephole to see if we play with ourselves. I don’t see why else he’d leave us this one hand.”

“I never play with myself,” Margo affirmed proudly. “A girl has to be in a damned bad way before she resorts to that.”

“We are in a damned bad way, and he’s made it so very easy”

“You can do it if you want, I’ll look the other way, I wouldn’t have thought it of you. And you a lawyer.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. Can you think of a way to get us free?”

“I’m working on it. What about you?”

“I never bother. Once a girl’s been tied by an expert, she might as well save herself the trouble and a lot of chaffed skin. Margo, we’re here to stay and we might as well make the best of it.”

“But I’m already tired of standing on one foot, and I’ll be more tired every minute.”

“That’s the way he wants it, dear. I recall you telling us you wished to be broken? A few hours of standing like this will at least get you bent.”

“A few hours!” She turned to me in pure horror. “He wouldn’t dare!”

“Why not? He owns us. If we get too abusive when he visits, he can always whip us again. He can make most effective use of one of those whips with us tied this way. I’m sure you can guess how.”

“You mean my pussy and my breasts! Oh, come off it, Diane, he wouldn’t do such a thing.” She pouted for a few seconds, then added. “Would he?”

“Why not? It’s probably the reason he keeps us the way we are. My pussy screams aloud for attention the way we are, and I expect yours does, too. Hugo has been damnably clever in leaving us this one hand and I’m damned if I know what to do with it.”

“Can you reach...?”

She held out her hand invitingly. I tried but fell inches short of her fingers.

“The best thing we can do is think of something we can talk about. We can’t get loose. Come on, dear, think of something.”

We stood, raised wrists hurting, and the one leg on which we were forced to stand getting more and more tired of the weight it must bear. If we kicked our other leg, all we did was upset the one our ankle was tied to. We constantly reached around with our free arm in a quaint belief that surely there must be something we could reach or do. If there was, we never found it. After a while Margo fell into a trance-like introspection, and withdrew into her fantasies, while I thought of my office and being a lawyer. A lawyer stripped stark naked and bound against a wall with her leg pulled high to reveal her sex. Hugo returned sooner than I’d dared hope.

My master and client probably has a foot fetish. Or next ordeal was to stand strapped as if to be whipped but with an ankle roped to its companion, so that Margo and I were still standing on one foot. The indecent exposure was the same as before and evidently pleased Hugo immensely. And I was not a bit sure about Margo’s protests. I suspect she was getting a great, big charge out of the whole thing. I realized I would never be completely sure of Margo. Perhaps Hugo, too, would never be certain what went on inside her pretty head. Anyway, the two of us stood there with hands tight strapped and a single tied ankle, We simply had to endure this fresh bondage, since we could make no progress at freeing ourselves. We tried to be content with standing as a stork. Hugo’s first visit proved unwelcome.

Our master was all smiles as he surveyed his dual prizes, paying close attention to the area now exposed between our legs. He affected to sniff the air inquiringly before ceasing to be a gentleman. “You two girls stink to high heaven,” he told us. “I absolutely have to do something about it or you’ll chase me out of the room.” He went outside to return almost instantly with a hose. I don’t know where it was attached to, but when he turned it on, the water that came shooting out proved to be cold.

He washed our naked bodies, paying serious attention to getting our exposed pussies very clean. The water was cold and the spray hard against our soft skins. I had wondered why there was a drain in the middle of the floor but just assumed it was a normal part of this basement.

Hugo said little as he cleaned us. But what was there for him to say? He had come up with a new punishment, one that came under the category of ‘good, clean fun.’

Probably because he didn’t want us to stand there dripping wet, he then fetched towels and rubbed our bodies dry, paying extra attention with the rough towels to our breasts, sore bottoms, and pussies. Then he left us still bound and standing nakedly exposed, and alone again.

I will have to admit that my body responded to the toweling and the strong male hands on those erotic parts of my body. But I didn’t admit that to Margo. I suspect she felt the same, to judge from the look in her eyes and those erect nipples sticking out. Strange how such rough treatment can excite a woman’s body.

Our master was in a mischievous mood and showed no hint of leaving off the punishment. When he returned his voice was thoughtful. “How about a nice spring clip on each of those pretty lips you’re displaying? It would be a nice topic of conversation.”

It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about putting a metal clip on the very tender lips of my pussy, and that sent a shiver down my spine. I was pretty sure Hugo was teasing but behind the tease was a deadly possibility we might easily provoke. I though longingly of my office and the work awaiting me, and asked myself bitterly what a lady lawyer was doing naked and exposed like this. Somehow this had to stop. But for sure, that termination was not to be today!

Hopelessly I said, “What you’re doing to us now is bad enough. And remember we’ve both been whipped. Couldn’t you go a bit easy?”

Unpredictably as always, Hugo shrugged, kissed us both, and went away to leave a pair of nude females heaving vast sighs of relief. But we also had to be wondering what he might think up next.

Margo’s ankle and mine, tied together as they were and no way able to reach the floor, were a constant torment. The single foot on which we stood constantly hurt. Margo’s own beef, when she came out with it, was a surprise, “Diane, do you remember that first evening in the restaurant when I asked to be broken? I said I was in no way a submissive but wanted the very thing most girls would hate - a cruel male hand?”

“I remember”

“Do I seem sort of silly to you now? Half the time I want to murder Hugo but the other half adores everything he does. Am I weird?”

“Probably a case of too much too soon.” I suggested cheerfully. “But it will sort itself out because freedom and you are going to be strangers for a long time. And whatever Hugo wants to do to you, he most certainly can, he’s not likely to break bones or do the hot iron thing, but can certainly make us feel less self-reliant and certainly hurt us.”

“I’ve never been a submissive,” I continued, “but if Hugo walked in here right now and offered to release us, I’d kneel and kiss his feet. I’m sick to death of having to stand the way we are.”

Margo sighed and shifted as much as straps and rope permitted. I forgave her for tugging at my bound ankle. “I don’t think I could do what you just said, but I’d like to get out of this.” Her voice suddenly changed. “But I love him as much as I hate him.”

“I know that feeling well.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Diane, but please give me a bit of help. What am I?”

“Just a girl who couldn’t find anyone to play with. But finally you found Hugo. But I’ll warn you straight, there’ll be plenty of times you’ll wish you hadn’t. For instance, right now. Or isn’t this bothering you?”

“Not as much as I think it’s bothering you. But I’m thinking, beyond now. Hugo and I haven’t talked about time, but do you have any idea how long he’ll keep me prisoner?”

“I don’t see why he’d give you back your freedom so long as you give him physical pleasure and are good to look at. I’d say at least ten years”

“Ten years! It doesn’t seem possible. But I can easy see how he can keep me as long as he likes. I’ve been watching for chances to escape but he’s never given me the hint of one. He keeps me foxed one way or the other all the time. But there’s another thing.” She gave me a girl to girl glance. “He’s sleeping with you right now, but when will he sleep with me? I haven’t enjoyed lying in chains on the floor while you two make love. Honestly. I think you’ve got it good, Diane.”

The thought had never occurred to me. I’d yielded myself to Hugo’s phallus and Hugo’s whip because of an obligation I’d entered into. But the way Margo presented it made me think. For sure I wasn’t enjoying what I was enduring at that moment, but there had been other things...! I set that speculation aside to demand, “You don’t really want to get free of Hugo, do you. Margo? If he pushed you out into the street right now, you’d feel let down.”

You can only bat eroticism around just so long until you find yourself going around in circles. I’ve long known it was just a case of men doing things to girls in order to find a prolonged pleasure not usually attendant upon the sexual act itself. For most men the act of sex is a brief ecstasy, easily spent and regretted. But to have a girl prettily bound and to whip her to your hearts content produced all the same sounds and emotions which extreme sexual satisfaction and excitement extracts from girls, Men with money are fortunate because if they don’t get the thrill from us in one way, they do in another. Margo and I kicked the whole scene around while standing on one leg. The SOB made us stand like that for hours until we both shed tears of self-pity and were so glad to see him when he finally showed up that groveling on hands and knees would’ have been a pleasure. At least it would have been for me!

“May I ask both of your to join me for dinner at The Wharf?” he inquired in greeting.

I said an immediate yes, but Margo simply stared. “You mean you’d let take me out in public?” she asked in disbelief.

“Of course, why not?”

The poor girl swallowed a couple of times before proving her innocence. “But I could run away, you’ll lose me. Is that what you want?” Her voice was vivid with hurt.

“You won’t run away,” Hugo said with assurance. “You’ll return here with me and Diane and you’ll ask me for your chains.”

In a belated realization of the chance being offered, Margo said a hasty yes, and added a thank you. I reserved judgment, knowing there had to be a hidden kicker in this somewhere. I was bound with more than chains but Margo was not. Our master took his time about freeing us, and we had to endure some more pussy frictioning before the return of hands and feet. We were sent upstairs to bathe and dress and do the things girls do before the temptation of a flirt with freedom.

Margo and I bathed together, I had evidently earned her trust for she told me without shame of her intention to use this dinner date as an opportunity to escape. She had had enough, and Hugo’s methods were either too harsh or her own tolerance too weak to continue on and make a career of being a slavegirl. I simply shrugged. It no longer mattered and my mind was engrossed with thoughts of a freedom of my own.

My chance came sooner than I dreamed.