F Campbell - Drusilla

“Oh, Drew, you’re so sweet. I’ve loved you for so long. But when you were Mrs. Hammill and I was just Ginny... ! I do so long to eat you. You will let me, won’t you?”

Drusilla knew herself blushing now for sure. “Of course... ”

“I don’t suppose you’re all that much older than me,” Ginny conceded generously. “I’ve always thought you awfully young. And you’re so lovely!”

“I wish I were as young and lovely as you.”

“Oh, but you are! With me you are, Drew. With me you’re about nineteen. Not a day older. So don’t call me ‘dear’ anymore. Call me something else. I think ‘darling’s’ nicest.”

“It’s easy to call you that. It’s what you are.”

“Let’s sit on the cot, Drew,” Ginny giggled. “At night we’ll have to sleep on top of each other. Did Mummy tell you how long she’s going to keep us locked up?”

“No. You saw how I got pushed in here.” Drusilla considered possibilities. “But she’ll have to let us out for—”

“She doesn’t, y’know,” Ginny said soberly. “Watch this.”

Suppressing an urge to laugh, Drusilla now saw why the plumber’s bill had been so large. With teen agility, Ginny contrived to pull back the thin mattress on the cot that suddenly revealed itself as a cabinet. Dexterous handcuffed hands managed to fling back hinged segments. Beneath them reposed toilet, washbowl, taps and buttons. There were towels and paper...and a drinking cup... !

“She doesn’t have to let us out, not ever,” Ginny said triumphantly as she flipped things back into place with a nimble foot. “Mummy could keep us locked in here forever. Isn’t it scary!”

It was scary. Drusilla knew a flicker of fear. The bars were implacable. She could believe that, without Ginny’s radiance, she might be screaming for release. She realized a sudden sympathy for claustrophobics. “But your hands... behind your back, Ginny! You can’t—!”

“Yes, I can, Drew. I’ve tried. It’s messy and hurts my wrists but it’s amazing what a girl can do if she has to. I bet nobody’s put your hands behind your back yet?”

“No. It seems so helpless.”

“Well, it is if you’re trying to defend yourself or something. Mummy can handle me like I was a kitten when I’m like this,” the youngster grinned reassuringly. “But now you’re in here, and with your hands in front, everything’s easy. What I can’t do, you can.”

The child’s happy confidence germinated a suspicion.

Drusilla trusted Diana implicitly. But suppose she had been thrust in with Ginny for a purpose! It was legitimately within the context of slavery that a slave be caged, kept behind bars, imprisoned! Diana could come and gloat through the bars—perhaps remove Ginny and leave her alone... ! Drusilla resolutely thrust the thought away. She would not voice it to Ginny and rob them both of the teenager’s effervescence. But a bit of it hovered in her mind. After all, no slave, no matter how loved, could expect to enjoy all that slavery might demand. Drusilla did not enjoy being whipped—not until the afterwards! Perhaps for all of it there was an afterwards...

“Ginny darling, have you ever been punished more than you can bear?”

“Oh, Drew darling, you’re not worrying, are you? You’re not thinking we’re locked in here forever?”

“No, silly, of course not. But it’s all so new to me. I’m not as brave as you about it.”

“But your pussy does get lovely and wet, doesn’t it? May I feel?”

The darling was irresistible. Half amused and half ashamed, Drusilla disposed herself so that the small, locked, questing hands could satisfy their curiosity. Their attention caused her sex to flare in demanding palpitation ..

“Oooooo! Oh, Drew! Mmmmmmm!” Ginny wiped a wet hand on a dry hip. “I knew you would be. Oh, I’m so glad we’re together.”

“I’m glad too, darling.”

“Even if it means being in prison?”

“Especially in prison, Ginny.”

“Now you feel my pussy. I know what it’s like. But I want your hand on it.”

Drusilla wet her palm. The youngster’s sex was throbbing. She had an impulse to thrust Ginny back upon the mattress and feed hungrily. But thought of a sardonic Diana happening upon them so engaged was dampener. Instead, she kissed the proffered lips and said huskily: “I love you.”

“You’re so nice.” Ginny rubbed a soft cheek caressingly against Drusilla’s. “If I had my hands I’d love you to pieces.” She frictioned happily for a moment, then giggled. “It was buying the handcuffs to get you a key, Drew. We’d never had handcuffs. All of a sudden it was so easy to clip them on me. You haven’t known, but there’s been lots of nights I’ve been sent to bed wearing them.”

“What, behind your back?”

“About half the time. I’m getting quite good at sleeping that way.” Another giggle. “I have to pull up the covers with my teeth.”

“That’s unkind of Diana—”

“Oh, no! Oh, Drew, it isn’t at all. I adore it—I thought you knew. When I pout and complain it’s mostly make believe. Mummy knows!”

“Ginny—have you always?”

The young lips sought and kissed Drusilla’s eyes.

“Mmmmm, you’re so yummy. But you are worrying. I can tell.” Ginny backed away, her eyes wise and sympathetic.

“I know about you and Mummy. She’s going to keep you always and you’re all shivery about what you’ve got yourself into.”

“Am I being silly?”

“’Course not. Mummy makes me all shivery sometimes.

It’s terribly exciting, even when it’s scary.” .

“Don’t you ever panic when you’re helpless?”

“’Course not. Mummy’s a dear.”

“But, I asked this before, aren’t there times when you just can’t take what’s being done to you?”

“Darling, that’s the whole idea! That’s why Mumsie ties me. She’ll tie you too. It’s the most wonderful thrill to know you’re really going to get it, and you can’t move.”

Ginny’s excitement was infectious. Her effervescent lubricity was an armour of protection. She blossomed in a land of enchantment Drusilla sought to explore. “Ginny, was there a beginning? Can you remember a time when—” Drusilla exhibited her handcuffed wrists, “—when things like this didn’t exist?”

“No.”

“Just like that? You mean—?”

“Why not, darling? Even in my first memories there was always a ribbon or something around one of my wrists, or my neck, or my ankle.” Ginny grinned in amused recollection. “As I got older, the ribbons and things sort of got joined. After awhile, Mumsie dropped the ribbons and just tied me with the things... bits of cord or string or strap. I say, Drew dear, these handcuffs are gorgeous, aren’t they?”

“They’re beautifully shivery ,” Drusilla laughed. “It’s you that’s gorgeous.”

“Am I? Oh, Drew, do you really think so? Do you like my breasts?”

“I love them. They’re sweet.”

“It’s awful not being able to touch myself but knowing anyone else can. I’d want you to play with them, but I’d go crazy wild. Want me to nibble yours? I think yours are much lovelier than mine.”

“They’re not, Ginny. You’ve got the most perfect cones... ”

Drusilla knew herself wallowing in lust. This innocently concupiscent child was everything her heart desired. A cornucopia of female magic palpitating with heated feminine longings. How lucky Diana had been, and how wise! Seemingly without volition, her cuffed hands rose, two fingertips kissed the already tumescent buds so that their youthful owner gasped in sweet agony. A moment later Drusilla was thrust back by eager female flesh while lips and tongue and small, cruel teeth found her nipples and fed upon them in avid hunger. Uncaring of consequence she sank back upon the narrow couch.