F Campbell - Drusilla

For what may have been hours, the small locked cell enclosed the beauty and wonder of female loveliness twisting and pulling against the shining steel that did no more than impede tumultuous love. Ginny, even with hands locked behind her back, took on all the sleek dexterity of a seal, turning and pouncing, her lips swollen with delight. Less handicapped, Drusilla discovered responses of which she had never known herself capable. They became two girls chained and ecstatically lost in a rainbow world the bars could not confine.

“I might have known this would happen.”

Two nudities tensed as Diana’s sardonic observation intruded on their felicity. Two flushed faced rose from moist flesh. Two pairs of eyes gazed guiltily at their jailer.

“We were just playing, Mummy dear,” Ginny offered brightly.

“So I noticed.”

Drusilla kept silent. She was uncertain of the gravity of her sin. If coping was possible, Ginny would know how.

With a gesture of disdain, Diana tossed a handkerchief through the bars. “Dry your lips, Drusilla. And Ginny’s, too. You can finish it off on your cunts. They both look as though they’ve been drinking beer.”

“You didn’t tell us we couldn’t, Mumsie,” Ginny ventured, looking up from where her obligingly spread legs were receiving Drusilla’s attention.

“But did I tell you you could?”

“I expect it’s my fault, Di—”

“What did you call me?”

“Oops!” Drusilla wanted to laugh, but was uncertain of the authenticity of Diana’s displeasure. “Sorry! I expect it was my fault, MISTRESS.”

“No need to overemphasize.”

“Very well, Mistress.”

“As to the fault. yes, you’ll be punished.”

“Well, you could at least have told us—”

“Drusilla!!!”

“You’re not allowed to complain,” Ginny prompted.

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” The novitiate submissive was ashamed of the alacrity with which she repaired her lapse.

“Hmmmm, you are trying, darling. It will be five with the cane—and that’s being generous.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“As for you, Ginny: you knew better!”

“Did I, Mother?”

“Don’t be impudent. For you, it’s ten.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“No supper for either of you.”

They sat upon the couch. Two nude delinquents sentenced to punishment, respectfully attentive to their wardress beyond the bars. Handcuff chains clinked as captive hands betrayed their nervousness.

“And you can both stay where you are for a week.” Neither of the prisoners offered thanks.

“I know perfectly well you’ll do it again. But if I catch you out in it you’ll stand on your toes for a whole day.”

“Oh, M-o-t-h-e-r-r-r!”

“You needn’t ‘oh mother’ me, you little minx. And you’d better put Drusilla wise about what sort of behavior’s expected of her.”

“Yes, Mother. Could I have my hands in front now, please?”

“No, you can’t! Drusilla.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Give me your hands.”

Drusilla’s heart thumped. “Oh, Di’, not me too!”

“That earns you two more strokes for the ‘Di’.’ Now, get over here by the bars.”

Drusilla was trembling; a strange mixture of anger and delicious humiliation. She knew herself owned. She knew, too, she was watched keenly by both her companions. This was a test. She was not sure what the test was, but it hung heavy in the air. Awkwardly, she thrust her locked hands through the bars.

“Going to be silly?”

“No, Mistress.”

Diana gave her small chance. She unlocked but a single cuff and held it firm against a bar. “Turn your back and give me your hand again.”

Drusilla realized this as one of the moments. Cliches sped through her mind: The moment of truth. Time of decision. Point of no return. She rejected them. She had made a gift of herself, so why deny obedience to her chosen mistress! There was also a delightful tingling up her spine. Meekly she turned and placed her free hand beside its captive twin and shivered visibly as the warm metal once more clicked it into custody.

“Oh, Mumsie! Poor Drew! It’s so strange for her.”

“She has to learn, dear. I can detect traces of rebellion. You must see if you can help her understand what’s expected. Maybe you can save her sweet little bottom a lot of strokes.”

Drusilla flushed and felt young and silly and about ninety percent breasts and pubic hair. The sudden loss of her hands and arms made her trebly naked. She tugged testingly at her locked wrists and knew she had lost them.

“Teach you what it’s like to be dependent, Dru’.” Diana was briskly cheerful. “I’m going to make you mind.”

For a moment their eyes met and they were Mrs. Hinton Winslow and Mrs. Bryce Hammill again. Drusilla’s eager smile faded against the authority of the metal on her wrists.

“Back up here again, Dru’ dear.”

Hopefully the slave obeyed. Perhaps Diana had relented!

Again her hands found their way between two bars.

“I don’t need them. Stand still.”

Drusilla tensed, then began to melt as beloved fingers caressed her neck, disposing her hair. For moments her breathing stopped as the leather band circled her throat and nestled snugly. A padlock made a decisive snap and imposed a tiny weight.

“Oh, darlings, it’s gorgeous!” Ginny sparkled her delight. The newly collared slave turned wonderingly. “Why—? I mean, what’s it for? It’s some sort of collar...!”

“And it won’t come off, sweetheart,” Diana gloated.

“You’ll have to wear it always. It’s my gift to you this day.”

“Oh, darling!” Drusilla forgot the dolours of her captivity. She thrust her radiant features against the bars, her lips pleading. The two women kissed in a tremendous need until Ginny broke the spell.

“Oh, Mumsie, can I have one like that?”

“No, you can’t, dear. I got it specially for Drew.”

“But it’s so lovely, and it really does something for a girl,” Ginny giggled. “It makes the rest of Drew look beautifully naked.”

“I can’t see it and I can’t touch it,” Drusilla mourned.

“I’d be ever so good if I could have one?” Ginny coaxed. “I’ll get you an iron collar, Miss Impudent, if you don’t shut up,” Diana threatened affectionately.

“I wouldn’t mind, Mother. I’d look simply scrumptious.”

“I’d make sure you couldn’t get it off. You’d have to wear it to school.”

“I’d tell them it was gold or silver or something.”

“I believe you would, you little baggage. If I did get you one it would have little points inside. You wouldn’t like it a bit.”

“Oh, Mo-t-h.e-r-r-r-r!”

“Isn’t she a darling?” Diana chuckled as she turned away. The prisoners heard her receding footsteps. A door slammed.

“A whole week! Oh, gollies!” Ginny’s return to reality was abrupt. “Oh, Drew, seven days—in here!”

“She’s just scaring us, darling.”

“You sure?”

Strangely enough, Drusilla was sure. Despite her less comfortable condition, the kiss and the brief communion of the eyes had given her a confidence she knew she should never have lost. Things had slipped back into place. The collar, harsh as it might become, clung lovingly to her flesh. “I’m sure ,” she affirmed jauntily.

“And no supper!”

Drusilla felt mischievous. “Want to bet we won’t eat?” she teased.

“Oh, darling, you’re so sweet. But don’t forget: You’ve got seven and I’ve got ten. D’you want to risk some more?”

“I bet your mother was stringing us along on that, too.”

“Oh, Drew, she wasn’t. I know Mummy.”