F Campbell - Drusilla

Minnie’s giggle covered all contingencies. She used it again. “Poor darling, you feel so conspicuous, don’t you? But doesn’t it positively curl your spine?”

“My spine?”

“Drusilla darling, not with me! You don’t have to dissemble with poor little Minnie. I’ve been there. ’S’matter of fact, I’m there right now.”

“I’ll have another.” Drusilla pushed her glass across the bar. Minnie was sweet. But between them loomed an abyss.

“I found a few drinks real helpful at the start,” Minnie confided. “Quigley didn’t break me in easy.”

“Minnie, what are you babbling about?”

Minnie was unperturbed. “You’ve got some sort of belt locked round your tummy, Drew. I can tell.”

“It’s a corset.”

“No, it isn’t. Your breasts aren’t lifted. I bet you can’t get it off. Diana’s got the key, hasn’t she?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. I bet your panties are sopping and you’d like to tell me about it but you’re shy.”

“All right, so you know!”

“Don’t be sulky, darling. Is Diana being mean to her little slave girl?”

“No!”

“Don’t bite my head off. Would it make you feel better to know there’s pair of plastic balls popped inside my puss and my vulva’s closed by a padlock to which I don’t have a key?”

“Minnie, don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true. I’ve been pierced. Quigley insisted.”

While Drusilla sought solace in her glass, a nimble hand explored her waist, probing knowingly beneath the fabric.

“Yeah, it’s there!” Minnie said in a matter-of-fact voice. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

“Minnie!”

“Want me to ask Diana?”

“You haven’t! You’re not padlocked... ”

“I am, too! Here, I’ll stand. Be careful, but feel.” Drusilla knew herself lost. This was too good to be true.

She sent one nonchalant hand upon a mission. She gasped. It was true! Her fingers encountered the unmistakable contours of the, by no means tiny, metal cruelty between Minnie’s legs.

“For Pete’s sake don’t pull, Drew!”

The hand withdrew. Drusilla viewed her cheerful companion with respect. She refused to concede envy. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It used to. But I’ve got used to it. I like it better than the chastity belt Quigley bought.”

“Oh, Minnie, no!”

“Oh, Minnie, yes!” The gamin eyes twinkled. “I am a bit susceptible to men. The belt and the padlock have been a relief—saves me decisions. You should see their faces!” For a moment Minnie turned serious. “We all wondered why Bryce didn’t lock one on you.”

Drusilla refused to be drawn. She made her voice as casual as her leaping pulse would allow. “Those plastic balls... ?”

Minnie tittered. “They’re not really a punishment. On the other hand, they’re a bit hard to live with. I’m all the time amorous. If I walk around too much I have an orgasm. You’d think it would show. But Quigley says I always look like I’m about to come. I say, Drew, does Diana whip you?”

Drusilla gave up pretense. Or perhaps it was the drinks. She sparkled. “Only when I’m bad.”

“Quigley uses that excuse. You ought to see my bottom.”

“I’d love to. May I?”

“If I can see yours?”

Simple! Drusilla drained her glass.

The Pendleton powder room was magnificent and commodious. Inspired by the nectar of the bar, the giggling couple took possession of a cubicle and raised their dresses like naughty little girls.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Minnie’s finger traced the steel round Drusilla’s waist. “And it won’t come off, will it?”

“I can’t get it off;” Drusilla admitted proudly.

Panties were lowered, then impatiently removed. Exclamations of admiration for wealed flesh accompanied an interchange on bottoms. Breathlessly Drusilla instructed:

“I’ll sit down now and you sort of spread your legs.”

It was there! Minnie’s cooperation was total. The padlock nestled deep within her sex, closing its lips. It was beautiful, implacable, exciting. Drusilla fingered it in awe.

“Every girl should have one.”

The hearty feminine voice came from above. Two pairs of startled eyes looked up at the flushed features of Belinda Pendleton peering over the partition. “I’m standing on the can next door,” she explained amiably. “Knew you were up to something.”

“Belinda’s seen my padlock before,” Minnie explained, unabashed. She dropped her dress and retrieved her panties. “What she’s snooping over is you and what’s round your tum-tum.”

“I like it!” Mrs. Pendleton said decisively. “Now just turn your bottom this way a bit, dear, so I can see.”

Only partly under the influence of alcohol, a proud Drusilla gathered her dress beneath an arm and bent over for inspection.

“Knees straight. Head up!” Diana’s was the voice of authority.

Ginny stood to attention. Her eyes were dreamy. Drusilla’s handcuffed nudity watched from the sidelines. Ginny made her breathless—always!

“How do you plead, poppet?”

“Guilty on all counts, Mother.”

They were incredible! Drusilla knew she would never cease to marvel at the female rapport between mother and daughter. Nor at Ginny’s penchant for punishment. The child was insatiable. An eternal innocence impervious to guilt.

“You already have a tally of ten, girl.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” The query was sharp.

“Yes, Mother.”

“You don’t look it.”

“I’m standing at attention, Mother. Awaiting sentence. I’m not supposed to show emotion.”

“I stand corrected,” Diana conceded dryly. She turned to Drusilla. “I don’t think the cane gets through to her anymore.”

“Oh, Mummy, it does!”

“Quiet, nymphet! Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Di’.” Drusilla’s heart was melting for the delinquent damsel she adored.

Diana chuckled. “The little fox has got you under her spell. You have to watch her. She’s a witch.”

“Oh, M-o-t-h-e-r-r-r!”

“Two extra for interrupting.”

“Thank you, Mumsie.”

It was a picture to touch the heart. Sneakers, shorts and a close fitting shirt through which the nipples showed erect. The bare thighs and legs proclaimed a potent youthfulness as they tapered their length below the svelte hips.

“You’re not wearing a bra, Ginny.”

“No, Mother.”

“Well, why aren’t you?”

“Because it feels all lovely when my nips rub—and people turn and look.”

“That’s enough!”

“Well, Mummy, you did ask!”

Diana turned to her watching slave. She made a motion of mock helplessness. “You see what I mean?”

“But she’s so sweet—”

“Drew, stop it! You, too! If you can’t get yourself out from under the little witch’s spell, I’ll cane your can too, just to bring you back to your senses.”

“Don’t get into trouble over me, Drew. Mummy knows best.”

“Good thing you made that amendment, Ginny,” Diana grumbled. “I was just about to raise the ante. You just can’t keep quiet.”

“I do try, Mummy.”

“If you hadn’t told us we’d never have known.” Diana’s remark was heavy with sarcasm. “What am I to do with you?”

“Cane my bottom, Mummy?”

“I’ve done that so often you’ve got so you don’t notice. ”

“Oh, M-o-t-h-e-r-r-r! I notice terribly.”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve got to think of something.”

“You’ve got a lovely whip, Mummy. You could whip my back. I’ve never had that. I expect it hurts something awful.”