Miss High-heels

CHAPTER 3

"She must be punished," said Helen, pushing me toward a gilt chair with a white satin seat.

"Lift your skirt carefully, Denise, and kneel on this chair," she said sternly.

A little frightened, I immediately obeyed this humiliating order. Helen dipped a pen in the ink upon the writing table.

"It is the rule in this house, Denise," she said, "that one punishment always involves a second to be inflicted later on; and so that we may not forget it, we make a note of it upon the sole of one of the culprit's smart shoes."

"Oh!" I protested. "I am to be punished twice for the same fault."

"That is the rule. It teaches pretty young ladies to be careful to avoid punishment altogether."

She took my instep in her hand and stooped over my feet. My position was, of course, extraordinarily humiliating. But the feel of her gloved hand on my round, warm, silk-stockinged instep, and the sight of her in the mirror as she wrote the punishment I was to endure upon the new white sole of my dainty satin slipper sent a voluptuous thrill through my blood.

"Now stay as you are, Denise, until the ink is dry," Helen said, and, laying down the pen, she began to adjust my feet. She took great care, with her usual love of neatness, that my ankles were pressed together and my high heels and pointed toes were exactly level.

Miss. Priscilla, meanwhile, squeezed and rolled into a ball a small lace handkerchief that she had been soaking in eau de cologne. She came over to me with the ball in her hand.

"Open your mouth, Denise!"

I obeyed. She thrust the handkerchief into my mouth.

"Close your mouth now, dear!"

The eau de cologne burnt my tongue and the roof of my mouth in the most painful way. Tears filled my eyes.

"Oh, oh!" I cried in a stifled voice, wringing my hands.

Miss. Priscilla smiled at my sufferings.

"The eau de cologne will keep your mouth fresh and sweet, darling," she said and she took up a bigger handkerchief of the finest silk and carefully folded it. This she adjusted over my lips and tied the end very tightly at the back of my hair, binding my mouth so that I could not utter a sound.

"Now stand up, Denise!" Miss. Priscilla shouted.

I stood up and Miss. Priscilla carefully smoothed down my shining skirt. What a bizarre spectacle met my eyes in the mirror! I saw a grown-up girl in an exquisite evening gown of white satin with her mouth gagged. Her white throat and bosom were flashing with jewels, while her white-gloved hands toyed with a pretty fan. The delicate bows and bright buckles of her luxurious little slippers were peeping out from delicious billows of white tulle.

Of course what made the spectacle so piquant and seductive to me was the knowledge that the pretty girl was myself. My hands were quite free. I could have torn the gag from my lips in a second. There were only two ladies to prevent me. But I did not dare. I was undergoing discipline in girls' frocks and pearl-embroidered satin slippers at their hands. I was being punished by them and in my subjection I felt powerful and lovely.

"Now go downstairs into the drawing room, Denise," said Helen. "Our guests will be arriving in a minute.

I was to be seen by her guests in this ignominious condition. The shame of it excited me. I looked piteously at Helen. But there was no sign of relenting in her face. I thought the guests would never recognize me. They would see only Denise a girl. They will witness Denise's submission and then Denise was to disappear forever. I picked up the train of my frock and went sadly out of the room. As I turned to latch the door, I heard Helen ask, "Well, what do you think?"

And Miss. Priscilla replied, "In a few weeks he will be the prettiest fetichiste du pied in the world." And then they both laughed heartlessly.

I was troubled by their words. What was a fetichiste du pied? I had to know. I had an intuition that the phrase was the secret to the riddle, was a clue to the plot those two women had concocted to nullify and ruin me. But I had not time to think about it now. My heels were so high and thin and my skirt so tight that I had to be extremely careful making my way downstairs. There were two maids waiting in the hall to receive the guests and they both burst out laughing when they saw me. They knew who I was of course, and my cheeks grew hot with shame. I feared I did not look pretty.

There was no one as yet in the drawing room, but my heart sank at the ordeal in front of me. What if I was not as beautiful as I thought?

I heard a light quick step outside and Doris Hind, Helen's cousin, now a lovely girl of fifteen, ran into the room. She wore a smart little short frock of pale pink mousseline de soie with black silk stockings encased in patent leather slippers. A bright fire was burning in the grate; I turned to it, to hide my gag as long as I could.

"Who are you, you pretty thing?" she asked.

I could not answer.

"What's the matter?" she demanded impatiently.

Finally, she turned me around and saw the gag over my mouth. She stared at me astonished for a moment. Then the truth broke in upon her and she clapped her hands with pleasure.

"You must be Denise. Helen has gagged you. How delicious! You are a perfect girl now, Denise."

I blushed to the roots of my hair, and unconsciously I placed one foot upon the fender to warm it, lifting my skirt an inch or two. Doris uttered a rapturous cry.

"What adorable feet! And, oh Denise, what divine little satin slippers. Let me see!" I blushed again, but this time it was with pleasure.

"What lovely buckles and what fairylike bows! And those dear little pearl-embroidered toes! And what jolly high heels. Show me your ankles!"

I raised the skirt higher, and the delicate, cleanly rounded ankle in its shimmering cobweb of silk and lace came into view. Doris went into ecstasy. "I should like to perch you on still higher heels dear, and keep you in a glass case to show to my friends. That's really all that you are fit for now. Walk across the room you exquisite thing, and let me see how daintily you can do it in your beautiful high-heeled shoes." I was delighted with her admiration, but I shook my head at her request.

At once she stamped her foot. "Quick, or I'll punish you," she cried. "Pick up your train and let me see those buckles flashing on your dainty butterfly bows this instant."

I submitted. I was beginning to learn that one of the inevitable consequences of allowing myself to be dressed as a girl was that everyone, even young girls like Doris, who knew the secret, treated me as a little child in spite of my long decollete gown and fine jewels. I walked daintily across the room and back. Doris applauded me laughing.

"I don't know a girl, Denise, who wouldn't envy your figure and your feet and ankles. Oh, but you must be kept in high-heeled shoes all your life! It would be ridiculous now that Helen has got you so smart and pretty to let you go back into stupid trousers. Being a boy would be so tedious for you now."

At that moment Helen and Miss. Priscilla came into the room, and the guests began to arrive. There was Mrs. Dawson the clergyman's wife, Lady Hartley and her pretty daughter; Mr. and Mrs. Charles Rivers… about twenty people arrived, mostly young people and all of them neighbors whom I had known as a boy. I was introduced to them as Denise Beryl, a cousin. Helen explained how I came to be punished with a gag. I had to stand and listen, but my cheeks burned with shame.

"Denise is unfortunately very vain," Helen told her delighted guests. "I had to punish her because she kept showing off her feet in a very unladylike way."

"She is very lucky to have gotten off so easily," said Lady Hartley with severity, looking down at my feet through her glasses. "I should not only have gagged her, I should have taken her pretty slippers away from her altogether." Then, to my amazement and horror, "Mr. Guy Repton" was announced and my old schoolfellow came into the room.

He had been expelled in disgrace because of me. How did Helen come to know him? Her first words explained.

"This is my new steward and agent," she said as she introduced him. I was horrified. He was the new manager of my estates. He had turned out to be a handsome young man of twenty-two with a fair moustache. Helen had given him a fine position and a good income. She must have sought him out on purpose, because she believed that I had caused his disgrace. She wished to surround me with my enemies, I felt sure. Guy Repton would be grateful to her and presumably he hated me. Helen did not even pretend to conceal the reason for her choice of him. She darted a triumphant look at me. I felt more and more helpless in her hands.

Guy entered the room and dazzled the ladies instantly. He had become the gallant in the past two years. Needless to add, my own heart fluttered wildly as he entered the room, for I associated some of my most mysterious feelings with him and the experience we shared at school. I still had fond feelings for him, even if he was the cause of my expulsion and disgrace from the academy. I suddenly felt as though I should thank him for what had happened, because it seemed as if it were an example of divine intervention. But I realized that Guy did not recognize me; mentioning anything concerning our tryst at school would have ruined my feminine effect.

It seemed as though we had both ended up in the proper positions, though I could not help but smile ironically as he bent his dark, curly head to kiss my gloved hand.

"Guy," said Helen slyly, "I would like to present to you my delightful cousin, Denise. Denise, meet Mr. Repton." She laughed a little, and the sound was cruel and delicious to my ears. I blushed.

"She is a most delicate creature," said Guy to Helen, as he continued to hold my hand in his. He turned and met my gaze. He stared into my eyes for a prolonged moment.

"Helen, are you certain that I have never made the charming acquaintance of your cousin before? She looks so familiar to me," he said in all innocence.

"Oh no, Guy. This is her first visit to Beaumanoir," said Helen, laughing gaily.

"But why the gag? Has Miss. Denise misbehaved?" asked Guy, his eyes taking in my person with uninhibited hunger.

"Miss. Denise has been a naughty, naughty girl. Her punishment for her impudence is to endure this party wearing that gag so that she will learn her proper place in this house."

"Well I must admit," said Guy, "the gag does become her in a bizarre fashion. It is as though she were meant for it."

"How right you are," cried Helen with delight.

I was miserable, for I wanted to join in the festive repartee of the evening. I wanted to display my feminine charms for all the guests to delight in.

"Come along, Guy, you will have all evening to admire my guests," Helen said, guiding him to another cluster of party guests.

I was grateful for the superb construction of my little leather sheath hiding beneath all my lacy underthings. Seeing Guy Repton had kindled old feelings deep within my soul. I could tell that he fancied me. I could tell that he admired me dressed as a woman much more than if I were the boy he once knew. This recognition of admiration made the blood rush to my face and to my cock simultaneously, and I was glad that my leather pouch kept my feelings from showing.

We were waiting for dinner to be announced, when Lady Hartley, a handsome matron of forty-five, came to me and took me by the arm. She led me into a little drawing room situated off of the big one. She pointed to a sofa.

"Lie down there on your face, young lady," and as I hesitated, she pinched my buttock painfully. "At once," she said.

Reluctantly I stretched myself out on the sofa. Oh, what did she mean to do with me? I felt the familiar stirrings of pleasure that accompanied the demands made upon me by strong women.

"I saw something written on the sole of your slipper as you walked across the room," she said. "A punishment, of course." She felt for my foot under my satin gown. Once she located my foot, she lifted it up and read Helen's note. She looked puzzled. "I wonder what it means," she said. "You may get up."

We went back into the big room where all the guests had assembled. Violet, Doris's elder sister had just come down, and my heart fluttered erratically. Violet looked quite stunning.

"I am very sorry for being late," Violet faltered breathlessly, with a frightened appeal to Helen. She looked perfectly charming in a blue chiffon gown, which set off her porcelain skin and her fair hair to perfection. Helen looked sternly at her, and made no answer.

Dinner was announced.

"Mr. Repton, will you take in Denise," said Helen. "I do apologize to have to give you so silent a companion, but you did seem so charmed by her!"

I sat gagged at the dinner table bright with flowers, among those smartly dressed people, unable to eat and unable to talk. I felt terribly humiliated. It was cruel to make me come down to dinner at all. I found it difficult to breathe and it was all I could do not to burst into tears. To make things worse the company began to talk about the "other" me, Dennis Beryl. "It is such a pity that he is coming home tomorrow," said Mrs. Dawson. "It has been so pleasant and peaceful here while he has been at his girls' school." Everyone agreed. It was a revelation to me how thoroughly unpopular I was. I felt completely ashamed of my past behaviour.

"I think you will all find him greatly changed for the better," said Helen with a smile. "His headmistress's report speaks most highly of his docility and his ladylike ways." How I blushed. Luckily no one knew that I was present except Helen.

"I can quite believe it," said Guy Repton with a hateful snicker. "I think that you are all a little unjust to poor Dennis. I don't think that his nature is really bad, but as a boy he was not in his proper position. He must have known that dressed in male clothes he looked silly and ridiculous, and no doubt he felt uncomfortable. It was this discomfort that made him arrogant and intolerable. But dressed and treated as a girl he would no longer have that feeling of discomfort. He would probably be quite charming." I could have boxed Guy Repton's ears for his impertinence. "Very likely you are right," said Lady Hartley, "but then he ought to be kept a girl all his life."

"Oh yes," cried Mrs. Rivers turning enthusiastically to Helen. I had thrown a stone through the drawing room window of Mrs. Rivers' house, just after she and Charles Rivers had gotten married. She had never forgiven me. Helen shook her head sadly.

"I promised him that he should not have to wear girls' clothes after the two years if he behaved himself." She made a sign to Netta, one of the parlour maids, and Netta took the handkerchief from my mouth and the second one from between my lips. My face was revealed, and Mrs. Rivers cried out enthusiastically, "Oh what a pretty girl!"

I blushed with pleasure, and then the most unfortunate event occurred. I had been sitting with my napkin on my lap, although I had no dinner. I had been consumed with curiosity to know what strange punishment Helen had written down on the sole of my foot. So, while the rest were talking I had slipped off my left shoe. Then dropping my napkin, I had stooped to pick it up and, at the same time, I picked up in it the dainty high-heeled slipper. I held it carefully in my lap and read on the new white sole the words "The glass boxes."

I was wondering what strange punishment "The glass boxes" could be with a thrill of awe. I was under the impression that no one had seen my manoeuvre when Mrs. Rivers uttered her admiring cry; but Lady Hartley had been watching me and she said at once severely, "Yes, a very pretty girl who has kicked off one of her dainty slippers."

I hung my head in shame.

"Is that true, Denise? Let me see!" said Helen sharply.

"Yes, Helen," I said humbly and lifted up the slipper. Helen called to Netta.

"Take a shoehorn, and put on Miss. Denise's shoe at once."

Netta turned my chair around, drew the slipper on my foot, and put my back to the table. Then she took the bracelets from my wrists, unbuttoned my gloves there. She slipped my hands out and turned the gloves back.

"Yes, a very pretty girl," said Lady Hartley severely, "but if she were my pretty girl, I should tie her gloved hands behind her back, and stand her in the corner with her face to the wall with her dainty heels together."

My cheeks grew red with shame. But underneath the shame, I was suddenly conscious of a passionate longing to be punished in a childish and humiliating way in front of these gaily dressed people. I tried to shake the obsession off. It felt dangerous and exciting. The venom was in my veins. I tried to think of my ambitions, my career, but I could only think of the little, new, shining satin slippers that so daintily imprisoned my feet under the table, the fairylike bows, the big blazing buckles, the pointed pearl-embroidered toes. I felt the high Louis Quinze heels sinking deliciously into the thick carpet. Oh, to be made to stand upon them publicly in a corner with my face to the wall with my gloved hands tied behind my back like a naughty child. I rubbed my legs together in a spasm of desire. And then as Netta placed my dinner before me and filled my glass with champagne, Helen cried out with a laugh.

"But, dear Lady Hartley, that is exactly what I shall do with Denise."

The men looked sympathetically toward me, but all the ladies were clearly delighted. As for myself, I had to bend my head over my plate to hide a smile of sheer delight. Mr. Rivers actually pleaded on my behalf. Of course Helen would not hear of it.

"And I think Helen is so right," said Lady Hartley. "I support the punishment of young ladies. People allow them such a ridiculous amount of liberty nowadays. It is quite refreshing to find someone like Helen. It is wise to dress them beautifully and treat them like dainty convicts. That is the only way to keep the silly creatures in good order," she said sternly.

I ate my dinner quickly, while the longing to be punished tingled through my veins. Already I imagined that I could feel Helen's quick little daintily gloved fingers binding my wrists behind me with satin ribbons and adjusting my feet in exquisite finery. As soon as dinner was over, cigarettes and coffee were handed round. I lit a cigarette. It was two years since I had smoked one, and oh how I enjoyed it now! I leaned back in my chair, a smile of delight upon my face, as I relished the rich tobacco.

There was to be a dance for the people of the village after dinner in the village hall, and we were all to go in to it. Helen rose.

"Mr. Repton," she said, "will you kindly take the gentlemen down to the village hall when they are ready. There are two motorcars. They can come back for us. We ladies will come in for the fun a little while later. After that you are all welcome to come back here; we will have our own little dance and some supper."

"Certainly, Miss. Deverel," said Guy Repton. He cast a fiendishly lascivious glance in my direction.

The other two ladies rose and Helen said to them, "Bring your cigarettes, all of you except Denise. I can't have you standing in the corner, Denise, with a cigarette between your lips."

Blushing, I laid my cigarette in the ashtray and followed the ladies from the room.

As they crossed the hall, I heard Lady Hartley say to Helen, "I thought that I read on the sole of Denise's slipper that you were thinking of a quite different punishment for her."

"Yes," replied Helen, "standing in the corner I look upon as a preliminary. The real punishment will be inflicted later on after supper."

"It sounds like a curious one-'the glass boxes.'"

"I think it is interesting and ingenious. You shall see it. I am quite sure you will approve."

I was curious myself as to what the punishment was going to be- curious and frightened.

We all went into a small parlour. It was a lovely little room decorated in white and gold with a polished parquet floor scattered with thick white rugs of Persian silk. It was brightly illuminated with shaded electric lamps, and a cheerful fire burned upon the hearth. The ladies took their seats in comfortable chairs about the fire with an air of eager expectation. They continued to smoke their cigarettes as Helen placed me in the middle and handed a little silver buttonhook to her young cousin Doris.

"Doris, put Denise's hands back into her gloves and button them carefully," she said.

I gave my hands to Doris, who smoothed the tight white kid gloves over my fingers and fixed the buttons while Helen went over to a bureau. She opened a drawer and came back carrying a mysterious leather case and a number of strong black leather straps with big metal buckles shining upon them. Helen placed the leather case on the mantel shelf and the straps on a chair. Her face was radiant, and her eyes danced with pleasure.

"Now, Denise, we are going to truss you up tightly and prettily," she said with a thrill of sinister delight in her voice. From my arms, she removed the gold bracelets that I had been wearing to keep my gloves stretched tight. Then, on each arm, where the bracelets had been, she buckled a broad, black leather strap very tightly. Neither the metal buckles nor the eyeholes were at the ends of the straps so that after the belt had been fastened, two broad ends hung from each of my arms. Helen tied the ends in a knot and passed them back through the oval buckles. The leather straps were on the outside of my arms, and on the inside of each strap, a little steel ring was stoutly sewn. Helen produced a tiny bar of polished steel with a spring hook at each end of it. She forced the hooks to snap onto the steel rings, pushing my arms together with a strength of which I should never have believed her capable.

"There," she said, "I can now tie your wrists comfortably." She sat down.

"Stand with your back to us, Denise." My elbows almost touched in the small of my back and my shoulders were drawn back most painfully. An extraordinary sense of helplessness, delightful and at the same time alarming, overwhelmed me. Slowly and with hesitation I obeyed my cruel feminine tyrant. I stood in front of her chair with my back toward her, and I offered my daintily gloved wrists for her to bind. There were mirrors set into the wall panels and I could see myself in my glistening white frock, which delightfully reflected the lights, from the buckles and pearls gleaming on my satin slippers to the curls of my exquisitely coiffured head, as I stood in this humiliating position of subjection. Yet how the spectacle aroused my passions! I felt dreadfully excited.

"Keep quite still now, Denise," said Helen, with a laugh. "Have you ever had your hands tied together for bad behaviour before?"

"Never, Helen."

"It seems a pity that you should have to have them tied up on an evening when you look so pretty and are so delightfully dressed."

My girlish vanity made me answer with a smile of confusion, "If I have got to have my hands tied behind me I would rather be prettily dressed than not for the ceremony." The ladies laughed and I blushed. Lady Hartley cried out, "That is charming of you, Denise."

I felt Helen's hands on my body and suddenly-was it in a panic, or was it to prolong the delight I felt? I began to struggle. But my arms were already bound, and the struggle was soon over. In the mirror I saw my hands suddenly interlaced with Helen's. They were fluttering like four doves. Our four hands separated. Helen's hands were holding the ends of a black leather strap, which encircled my wrists. She drew it tighter and tighter.

"Oh, oh, you are hurting me, Helen," I protested.

"You shouldn't make it necessary for me to hurt you, darling," she answered. And then she tied the leather and passed it through the oval steel buckle as she had done with the other straps.

"That will do," she said, rising briskly. My arms hung down behind me in their delicate long kid gloves, inert, useless. She took me by the elbow.

"Take care how you walk on your high heels now that your hands are tied behind you Denise. Point your toes and arch your pretty insteps!"

She led me to a corner by the fire and placed me in it with my face to the wall. "Hold your head up darling! That's right! Put your high heels together, and turn out the pointed toes. Let me see!"

She stooped down and picked up the train of my dress. She proceeded to wind it tightly round my legs, binding them in its folds and exposing to view my ankles and feet. She fixed it at my knees with a leather strap.

"Now stand without moving," she ordered, and with the handle of her fan, she gave me a sharp smack on my bare white shoulder.

"Take care! If I see a flutter of the butterfly bows or a flash of the diamond buckles on your daintily slippered feet, I will lock a tight pair of fetters over your gossamer silk stockings, locked round your slender ankles. You will be bound so fast that you won't be able to twitch one of your toes."

"Oh, Helen," I sighed. But it was not a sigh of alarm. It was a sigh of voluptuous, languorous desire.

Strange as it may seem, it was absolutely delicious to be standing daintily in the corner with my arms and hands cruelly bound behind me in my exquisite satin frock. I loved the sensation of the long girls' gloves of supple white kid. I was nothing more than a pretty punished thing of ribbons and pearls. But to have my ankles in their girls' lustrous transparent open-worked white silk stockings fettered tightly together too! The thought of standing in a corner with my delicate feet unable to move in their exquisitely cut high-heeled slippers of white satin and delicate bows was nearly more than I could bear. To see my round pink insteps gleaming daintily through the lace insertions of stockings-stockings that only the richest of heiresses would wear at a ball in the London season! The mere thought of it made me almost swoon with delight. This is what I had dreamed of. I could realize my deepest desires by a single movement. An irresistible impulse to act out was upon me.

"I don't see the use of my wearing beautiful satin slippers with valuable diamond buckles if I have to hide them in a corner," I pretended to grumble.

"Nonsense, Miss. Denise," replied Mrs. Dawson, "it is delightful for us to see an elegant young lady with pretty feet smartly shod standing obediently in the corner." She evoked a picture of myself in my mind that carried me away. I was nearly delirious with pleasure. I wanted nothing more than to feel the binding powers of those fetters.

"Mayn't I even do this?" I asked impertinently, and I stretched out a foot, pointing the toe. I quickly drew it back again. An exclamation of indignation at my wilfulness broke from the group of ladies.

"Lock and chain together those satin slippered feet at once, Helen!" cried Lady Hartley.

"I will indeed," answered Helen. "Come Violet, Miss. Hartley, help me please." With the assistance of the two young ladies she literally carried me from the corner and lifted me onto a chair.

"Support her please," said Helen. I was quite helpless, with my satin train swathed around my legs and my hands and arms tied behind me. Helen opened the leather case and took out a pair of bright fetters of thin polished steel.

"Oh, they are too small," I cried. "They will never go around my ankles."

"Hold your tongue," said Helen and she stooped over my little buckled feet. Oh, wonderful blissful moment! I felt the cold, cruel bands close about my ankles, the lock clasp sounding sharply through the room. It was done now, past recall. I was chained and completely at the mercy of these women. Thrills of voluptuous exquisite delight tingled warmly through my body from my high heels to my curls. I looked down-oh, bizarre and entrancing spectacle! I saw the bright bands of steel glistening on my filmy silk stockings, imprisoning my ankles. I saw my small feet in the gleaming, white satin pearl-embroidered slippers. Oh what waves of sensuous pleasure swept over me! Helen raised her hands and smoothed down my skirt from the waist to the knees. Her masterful hands, which having bound my arms and wrists behind me, and fettered my ankles, were now engaged in the feminine work of making my frock sit prettily. The blood rushed into my face.

As Helen ran her hands over the front of my lovely gown, her searching hands rested most languorously upon my crotch. Her fingers tickled and grasped at my cock. For the second time during that evening, I thanked Heaven for the leather sheath that Miss. Priscilla had forced me to wear. I was also cursing it, however ambivalently, because as Helen teased my cock, the sheath forbade me to experience the true pleasures of an erection. Instead the thing caused me great discomfort, which, of course, was not altogether unpleasing to me, but I wished suddenly to be naked and alone with Helen. I imagined her pretty gloved hands stroking and squeezing my cock. I even went so far as to picture her lovely mouth covering my prick, giving it a good-night kiss. The exquisite torture that Helen had devised for me was more than I had ever expected in my life. Helen continued to lightly tease my rod beneath the folds of my evening gown, and with every stroke I felt the strain of my secret bondage. As Helen tortured me so voluptuously, our eyes met for a long, tense moment.

"Oh, oh," I murmured. I stood quite still, every nerve tense and alive. It seemed to me that Helen's hands had opened the door to an unimagined Paradise. She stared into my rapt eyes shrewdly.

Then in a triumphant whisper, she said, "You wanted me to chain your feet, Denise."

Her words brought me to my senses. It was part of her plan, I was sure, to produce in me a craving for these delectable punishments. It was part of her plot to keep me in a permanent state of submission.

"Lift the pretty creature down," said Helen contemptuously. When I was placed standing again on the parquet floor, she added with a slow malicious smile, "I think, Denise darling, that since you are so disobedient, before I put you back into your corner, I had better give your fleshy little ass a sound caning."

"Oh, please no," I cried in terror.

Helen turned to Lady Hartley.

"Don't you think that I am right, Lady Hartley?" she asked.

"Certainly. You will be doing Denise a kindness."

"Doris, will you go and find Phoebe and ask her to bring a strong thick cane for Miss. Denise?"

"Oh, please, Helen" I whimpered, "I have never been caned. Oh, I will go on my knees to you."

"You can't, darling," said Helen, "you have your pretty feet chained together. Don't be silly!"

She turned me around and ran her hand lightly over my buttocks.

She began laughing with excitement and pleasure. "I am afraid that even through this fabric the cane will hurt and sting you terribly dear. Your flesh is so deliciously soft."

I wriggled and struggled in vain. Oh, what a fool I had been to let her bind and fetter me! I was helplessly at her mercy now. My heart soared with secret bliss.

Phoebe brought in a long, thick bamboo cane. It was a dreadful weapon. Helen made it whistle through the air. I shrank and trembled.

Helen burst out into a callous laugh at my abject entreaties. The other ladies moved excitedly in their chairs, tapping with their heels on the floor, making their pretty dresses rustle. Clearly, all of them were eager to see me soundly caned in my lovely clothes.

"Come, Denise, don't disgrace the smarter sex by so much cowardice!" said Helen.

She seized me. She thrust her left arms in between my bound arms and my back, and lifted my hands off my back into the air.

"Bend over, dear."

She raised the cane high above her head.

How cruel women can be! Helen herself was flushed with pleasure. She grew more severe with each stroke.

"Seven! Oh, I love to see you crying, Denise!" she said. I writhed and screamed.

"Eight!" she cried triumphantly and the slashing cane burnt my soft buttocks like a hot wire.

"Keep still, Denise! Don't rub your knees together under your frock in that indecent way. You'll tear the lace frills of your drawers if you do."

"Oh, Helen!" I sobbed. "Let me go."

"Nine! And don't squeeze your satin slippers against one another. You'll ruin the butterfly bows. Ten! You are to dance in them tonight and show them off! Eleven!"

I shivered from head to foot, fearful that I was going to shoot my spunk.

"Now for the last! Twelve!"

The last was a dreadful stroke, and I very nearly reached climax.

"Oh, untie my hands!" I screamed. "Take my dress off! Let me plunge my bum into cold water! Oh, my flesh is on fire."

Helen laid down the cane.

"Shut up," she said. "Violet, Miss. Hartley!"

They lifted me up, carried me writhing in agony into the corner, and placed me once more standing with my face to the wall.

"Your head well up! Turn your shoe buckles out!" Helen barked at me. She looked flushed with the pleasure of having completely dominated me. Her eyes were lustily feverish. She looked beautiful.

"Now cry away, baby, as much as you like, while we go down to the village. Aunt Priscilla will sit here while we are away and see that you don't move," she whispered in my ear. "Think of your perfect humiliation! Think of your perfect submission, and my total dominion over your body and your mind," she whispered caressingly in my ear, tempting me with seductive images.

Soon the ladies put on their cloaks and went away. I was left in the little sitting room, standing in the corner, sobbing bitterly while Miss. Priscilla, sat at the bureau where she could watch every movement that I made. She callously ignored my weeping and wrote letters.

She had no pity for me in my bondage and misery. She was perpetually chiding me. One moment it would be, "Don't work your shoulders in that violent way. Keep them still and if you must cry, sob silently!"

Later she said, "I see your fingers twitching, Denise. Open your hands and let them lie quiet against your satin dress." And then moments later, "Your feet are trembling, Denise. Keep them still. Your slipper buckles are flashing so that they continually attract my eyes. I shall have to cut them off your shoes."

She came over to the corner with a pair of scissors in her hand. All my vanity, all my love for my dainty slippers, rose in alarm.

"Oh, please don't cut the buckles off. Please, Miss. Priscilla!" I begged her.

"Be careful, then," she said and rapped my insteps exposed in their open-worked thin silk stockings with the handle of her fan. My tears broke out afresh.

At last the pain of my burning flesh began to diminish. I sniffed rather than sobbed. Finally I said in a humble voice, "Miss. Priscilla?"

"Well, what is it?" she answered sharply.

"My hands are tied. Would you be kind enough to wipe my nose for me."

She consented. I was eighteen years old, a youth, the owner of this house, a young man of great wealth and position. And yet there I stood in a corner wearing a girl's evening frock of white satin, girls' gloves, girls' silk stockings and high-heeled shoes. Not only that, but girls' tight satin corsets and frilled batiste drawers were secreted under my dress. My long hair had been done up beautifully in a girls' coiffure. I was bound with my hands behind me, and my ankles chained, and I had to have my nose wiped by an old maid whom a year or two ago I despised. With what strange paradoxes and twists of fate does life provide us!