F Campbell - Drusilla

“What! No thank you?” Belinda asked sardonically. “Thank you for untying us.” Drusilla felt the thanks appropriate, but the words fell mechanically from her lips.

“No reason I should tell you the agenda,” Belinda said comfortably. “Things will happen to you. I promise you won’t be bored. I’ll take you one at a time. Handcuffed, you won’t give me much trouble.” She shook the crop menacingly. “This says you won’t give me any trouble at all. I’ll keep you naked so its bite will be worse than my bark.”

“Aren’t you going to unchain my neck?”

“Do you good to stand a while, Diana. Let your two little quails see how the mighty have fallen.”

“It’s a rotten way to keep me. I’ll tire.”

“I can make it worse.” The offer was crisp.

“Oh, all right. Have your fun.” Diana took a deep breath and avoided her daughter’s commiserating eyes. No one could doubt her shame.

“I intend to.” Belinda Pendleton’s words commanded attention. “I’m arranging a little entertainment. You’re the star.”

The silence was electric.

“Elbows hurt?”

“Yes.” Drusilla turned to the woman driving the car. “You didn’t need to tie them—not so tight. My wrists would be enough.”

Mrs. Pendleton chuckled. “Keeps you tractable and makes your tits stick out. What’s it feel like, going through town naked?”

“We’ll be lucky if the police don’t pick us up,” Drusilla sniffed disapprovingly. “Someone gives me a double take at every red light.”

“Keeps your cat wet,” Belinda assured expansively.

“You sure look cute with the handcuffs on your ankles. Makes a nice change. Keep snuggled well into the corner. You were sensible not to choose the trunk; damned uncomfortable in there.”

“I’ll try and be sensible, Mrs. Pendleton. I don’t want to be terribly punished.”

“Call me Belinda, honey. And I’ll help out on the sensible business by keeping you hogtied.”

“Hogtied?”

“Figure of speech, love; You’ll just be wearing something so you don’t run.”

“I’m completely helpless.”

“Well, don’t bitch about it. This isn’t routine. You’re in transit.”

“But why the Albertsons?”

“Can’t keep you at my place, sweetheart. Homer would fuss.”

“Why can’t I stay with Diana and Ginny?”

“You’d all get comfort lapping each other’s cunts. Best you be separate. I’m even taking the chick from the mother hen.”

“Please don’t be cruel to Ginny.”

Belinda chuckled. “I’ll be as cruel as I want. That perky pigeon is a dish. But I’m not all bad. little Ginny’s my ace in the hole. Any time Diana balks at something I want, I’ll just trice her sweet little daughter up by her wrists and whip the little darling steady until Mama decides to behave. Think of the possibilities, honey. Diana would walk through fire to save her poppet from a licking. I’m going to have Madam walking tightropes.”

Drusilla thought of it with aching heart. It was foolproof. Her darling Mistress was lost. “Am I going to be whipped today?” she asked forlornly.

“Quigley will probably want to. It’s his thing. Dammit, Drew, I’m getting a charge out of this! I can do anything I damn please with you three. Anything! I own three cunts, two used and one virgin, and six tits and boobs... ! It’s staggering. ”

“Couldn’t you be satisfied with just me?”

“I could if I had to. You’re sweet. You’re a natural, aren’t you? I mean, you love it all?”

“I don’t love these ropes on my elbows.”

“Yes, you do. I can tell. There’ll be a stain on the seat....” Belinda contemplated her blessedness. “It’s out of this world, Drew! I keep looking for kickers but there aren’t any. Nobody’s going to go to the police. None of you can escape. I’m the luckiest woman in the U.S. of A.” She spared her captive an amused glance. “If I stopped the car right now, would you want to get out and go looking for help?”

“No!” It was an alarmed negative.

“See? You’re foxed! The lot of you. Not that I’d make the offer to Ginny, she’s an impetuous kid. I’ll keep her well corralled.”

Drusilla knew her familiar shame at the flare of lust that engulfed her from this vivid awareness of impotence. Bound and delivered! She was Belinda’s chattel. “Are you really going to do that cruel thing to Diana?” she asked anxiously.

“What cruel thing, honey?”

“That—you called it a ‘Ritual Flogging’?”

“Oh, my little drama! That’s going to be precious, Drew. You’ll want to watch, won’t you? Darling Ginny’s going to have to. I bet she’ll kick up a fine old fuss. Probably have to gag her.”

“But Diana hasn’t done anything!”

Belinda’s guffaw was instant. “Yes, she has. She was born a beauty, and she’s Diana Winslow. That’s enough. Besides, she’s upstaged me too often. I’ll adore lacing her back. I’m just wondering how big a crowd to ask in. It would be wasted on just the kid.”

Drusilla felt butterflies in her tummy. “Flogged!” It sounded too awful to contemplate. Diana was handcuffed and locked in the cell with nothing else to think about except that she was going to be triced up and her back slashed and lashed with some beast of a Whip. Ginny would suffer the same agonies of suspense as her mother. Her indignation gave her poor comfort. Drusilla recalled the day before and the restless night.

“She can’t possibly do that awful thing to you, Mummy!”

“You mustn’t get all het up, Ginny pet. There’s probably going to be a lot of this sort of thing.”

“I’ll scream the place down.”

“Ginny, cool it. What happens, happens. I’m so damned helpless I could weep.”

They had been a sad and ineffectual trio. Belinda had finally unchained Diana’s neck. But she and her daughter were helpless with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Belinda had laughingly told Drusilla her hands were locked in front so she could “help out.” The small cell had seethed with naked frustration. Ginny’s hesitant apprehension had been pathetic.

“Will she really whip my breasts, Mummy?”

It had stared them in the face. The implacability of their bonds and the grim bars, and Belinda’s laughing threats. Or were they promises!

“I’m collecting pubic hair. I pull ’em out one at a time with tweezers.”

The threat had sent Drusilla’s hands to clutching her crotch. But no one had laughed. Diana’s black fronds flaunted themselves as though in daring.

“Mummy, she won’t do these awful things! She won’t!”

And then the pathetic amendment. “Will she?”

It had been a very female captivity.

“You were asking about Quigley,” Belinda mused. “I suppose you realize he’ll fuck you?”

“No!” The rejection was violent. And then: “Why would he?”

“You’re a slave girl, that’s why, honey. You’re available. ”

“Against my will?”

“Don’t you find that a cunt curler, sweet? I do.”

It was! Drusilla knew it was! Her flesh was a traitor. She thought longingly of the captivity she had lost. “Don’t let him,” she pleaded, struggling ineffectually in her distress. “Tell him he mustn’t. You could tell him... ?”

“Those two really conditioned you.” Belinda was amused. “Might say you were ‘tongue tied.’” She chuckled at her pun. “Quigley will be a nice change for you. But remember this. He expects you to enjoy it. Act sulky, and he’ll do things to you that’ll make you howl for him to have another try.”

“What things?”

“You can easily find out, love.”

That was her life now. To be a plaything, a receptacle for lust and lash. Two days ago she could have added love. But that was gone! The soft breasts and pungent curls were locked in a cell. Even their owner’s hands had been taken from them.