F Campbell - Drusilla

“Turn back, honey.”

Diana obeyed. Mortification was pink upon her face. “Don’t like taking orders, do you, love?”

“Belinda, you’re in the catbird seat. Don’t be mean to us.”

“Mother, don’t be humble just because of me. That’s just what she wants.” Ginny’s sense of the rightness of things was outraged.

“You want that little can of yours caned, honey?” Mrs. Pendleton enquired amiably.

“You’ll do it anyway. You’re a meanie!” Ginny spat. “That’s right, kid. You’re down for a licking. It’s a deal.”

“Leave Mummy alone. She’s never hurt you.”

“It’s no good, Ginny,” Diana interjected tonelessly.

“We’re all so damned helpless, we’d best behave.”

“M-o-t-h..e-r-r-r!!!”

“Your ma’s right, honey. I don’t need an excuse to wail your back or your boobs, but it’s nice to have one.”

“Oh, Mummy, you’ve tied me so tight!” An infinite yearning for freedom was in the young voice. “If I could get loose I’d scratch her to bits.”

“None of us can get loose, dear. Don’t antagonize Mrs. Pendleton. Don’t provoke her into giving you punishments.”

“My, my, Diana, you have seen the light!” Belinda Pendleton surveyed her new captive with beaming satisfaction. “I bet if it wasn’t for dear, little Ginny, you’d still be spitting fire.”

“Look, Belinda, you and I know the score. So does Drew. Keep Ginny locked in a room or something while you have your fun with us. You don’t need a child.”

“Hell, the kid’s first on the list for a thrashing. Haven’t had one her age before—wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Thrash me instead. You’ll get more pleasure out of my screams.”

Belinda smiled beatifically: “You haven’t grasped the beauty of this yet, have you! I’m going to thrash you all. As long as I like and as often as I like. And that’s just for starters. There are other things, y’know... ! Your lickings will just be the hors d’oeuvres... !”

“Belinda, don’t torture us. I’d have thought you’d have got a big enough charge out of seeing me like this. I’ve never been so shamed in my life.”

“It’s all beautiful, darling. I’m so damned lucky. Like I said, the three of you are a positive gold mine. I’ll be burning a fire in my cat all day.”

“How long do you intend to—use us?”

“I’ve been mulling it over. I don’t see why it can’t be permanent. I’ve been thinking of possibilities. I suppose you have?”

“Yes.”

“And I see you don’t like ’em,” Mrs. Pendleton chuckled. “I don’t need the money, but I’ve a good mind to rent you out. A high class cat house with the inmates always on call—or should I say ‘on chain’? How’d you like guys peering through the bars at you and making their selection?”

“Guys?”

“That got to you, didn’t it! Yes, guys. I’m sure your little twats can take something bigger than a tongue.”

“Don’t be beastly.”

“Dyed in the wool Lesbians, eh? That adds a bit of spice. I’ll tie you down and watch the disgust when he shoves it in.”

Diana looked levelly at her tormenter. “Will Homer go for this?”

“Homer gives me my head. Least I can do is offer him a piece of tail.”

It was useless! Belinda Pendleton’s banter was impregnable. Her possession of all three of them positive. Diana shrugged disdainfully and fell silent.

“Just occurred to me... ” Their new owner gazed from one to the other of them brightly. “I’m going to need a few things. I may stay the night. I expect you’ll still be here when I get back!” She guffawed happily and was gone.

The clang of the door and the turning of the key was a knell. A death and a beginning. Three naked females exchanged expressions of dismay. After Belinda Pendleton, any silence was profound.

“I deserve anything she does to me,” Diana said bitterly.

“To let myself be tricked like that! Like a silly kid... ! Now look at me! I’m so damned helpless I could cry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mummy.”

“Yes, it is. And at such a time! You two totally helpless ... .” She looked at the bound girls with a flicker of hope. ... Any faintest chance you can wiggle loose?”

“None at all, Di. We tried for hours before this happened.”

“I can’t! That’s for sure! She’s got the handcuffs biting my wrists in two—and this chain round my neck... Oh, damn!”

With the coming of the silence that finally took possession of the three despondent nudities, the pain returned to Drusilla’s knees. She had knelt upon the concrete a long time. Her strained efforts at easement brought only minimal relief. The ropes bit. The handcuffs were tight upon her wrists. She was engulfed in impotence. Tears hovered but she fought them back. Diana had troubles enough without a weeping slave.

Drusilla had entered slavery with an open mind. Enslavement had engendered responses undreamed, both in herself and from others. Now she was gripped by a fresh emotion that had not formerly been present. Fear! She had been captured and fallen into the possession of a hostile force. Bound tight and helpless, she faced a thralldom in which there was no love. She would actively long for escape, and be denied. Mrs. Pendleton would be thorough. Rope or chain would be on her always. She would be made subservient to the whip.

Was it so different? Of course it was! But the difference was not in the rope or chain. It was in the woman who fastened them upon her limbs. Drusilla would never have fought Diana. But she would fight Mrs. Pendleton tooth and nail if given half a chance. Did that make her previous captivity false and this real? Drusilla strained against her bonds. They had been bound upon her by Diana. They were real enough! It was unlikely that Belinda Pendleton could tie or lock her more stringently... But there was something else.

Drusilla was excited. It was the familiar beat. The new fear accompanied but did not quench it. She was still owned. She had changed mistresses. This one would be more cruel and less lovable. She saw herself as a bound maiden awaiting sacrifice. Awaiting the pleasure of a personality she could not influence. To Belinda Pendleton her tears would be an aperitif. Hesitantly, she sought the eyes of the woman chained against the wall.

Several times since they had been left alone, this silent communion had exchanged the guilty secret they had no wish to share with the youngster tied to the bars. Each one was admitting to the other that, no matter their loathing for Belinda Pendleton, they felt in this new captivity an erotic potency more compelling than the old. Drusilla’s writhings against her ropes, and Diana’s constant testing and fingering of the metal bands upon her wrists were not a seeking for escape. They were a savoring of feminine bondage. The deliciousness of resignation to a helplessness imposed by another female.

It was one more discovery!

“A damned well-behaved trio,” Belinda Pendleton commented on her return.

No one answered. The mood was melancholy.

“Get organized. Make a fresh start.” Belinda was brisk.

She was busy with a key.

A cuff fell away from Drusilla’s wrist. Her arms were guided back to normal. The cuff snapped again. She raised her joined hands thankfully, rediscovering something she had lost. The skin of her wrists was chafed red. When the last rope was peeled from her wealed skin she rose stiffly to her feet and massaged her protesting knees.

“Don’t get any ideas, honey.” Mrs. Pendleton patted the newly released bottom with her crop. “I’ll cut you to pieces if you get foxy.” With Ginny, it was different. Pulled through the bars, her hands were cuffed behind her back. To make this possible, the ropes were loosed from above her breasts. They left the same scarlet and purple indentations with which Drusilla herself was decorated. Only when the teenager had been made helpless were the rest of the ropes taken from her limbs.