F Campbell - Drusilla

“Well, here’s Minnie,” announced Belinda as she steered the car up the short drive to the waiting figure at the front door of the Albertsons’ not inconsiderable residence. “You should try and look pleased. She adores you and she’s thrilled to bits over what you’ve become. She’s damned near a slave herself.”

“Oh, Drew!” Minnie’s hands were clasped in delight.

“You’re tied so beautifully! Did you tie her, Belinda?”

“Best way to keep a quail sensible, Minnie.”

“Minnie, get me out of this. It’s gone far enough. Please!!!”

“Give her a licking for that. About five, I’d say,” Belinda advised heartily.

Minnie never managed to cope with life. She allowed it to flow over her. “Oh, I will, I will!” she assured. And then, anxiously. “You won’t mind, will you, Drew dear?”

“Of course I mind! Minnie, you absolutely must make a stand. Let me loose!”

“Poor dear’s been under a strain. But better raise the ante to eight—and make ’em hard.” Belinda’s voice had lost some of its bonhomie.

“Oh, dear!” Minnie looked compassionately at the bound woman in the car. “A whole eight strokes right at the start... !” She visibly swallowed her concern and added brightly. “But, of course, it could be worse, couldn’t it?”

“Don’t be inane, Minnie. You don’t have to baby her. Just make sure she doesn’t get loose.”

By an effort of will, Drusilla remained mute while the handcuffs were taken from her ankles. Silence might be golden while Belinda was around. She could work on Minnie later. She suffered strong hands to pull her from the car, and a blanket to shield her naked bondage for the short journey to the house. She looked around hopefully but there was no one and nothing in sight.

“I’ll phone you, Minnie.” Belinda was urgent. “I’ve got me things to do. Don’t you get softhearted with her, now! Quigley will have your ass!”

Alone, the two girls assessed each other. Between their previous social intimacy and this moment there lay a chasm of things unsaid, unknown and undone. Minnie whisked away the blanket.

“Oh, Drew, you’re so beautiful!”

Her admiration was unfeigned. Her eyes were soft. “I don’t feel beautiful. I feel—dejected.”

“It’s having your elbows tied, darling. Quigley does it to me. It hurts gorgeously and pulls your shoulders back and sticks out your breasts—and a girl sways when she walks. Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!”

“Minnie, I didn’t come. I was brought here, delivered like a sack of potatoes!”

Minnie giggled. “Isn’t it a lovely feeling?”

“Never mind the feeling! You absolutely MUST let me go! I’ve got to do something about Diana and Ginny! Please, quickly!”

“But I couldn’t possibly!” Minnie looked askance as though at a suggestion of treason. “Oh, darling, don’t keep on at me about untying you. I just can’t!”

“You can!”

“No—Oh, you don’t understand... ! There’s Belinda and Quigley... and a sort of trust—and doing the right thing—”

“Untying me is the right thing. Quick!”

“Oh, but it isn’t! Oh, darling, I have to give you eight strokes now. Don’t make me have to give you any more!”

“You don’t have to give me even one.”

“I do! Oh, dear—! Really, Drew, you must try and understand. I mustn’t lie about it—and they’ll check for the marks!”

“You mean you’re actually going to cane me or whip me or something... !” Drusilla gazed at her companion in dawning realization.

“What else can I do?”

“Let me loose! You must! You must!”

Minnie’s face betrayed her concern. “Darling, if you keep on like this I’ll have to give you more than eight. It bothers me so your pleading like this. I thought we were going to have such a lovely time together. Comparing well, comparing the things that get done to us, and our marks, and our pussies... Oh, Drew!”

Minnie was a dear. The bound girl longed to take her in her arms. Drusilla swayed her bound shoulders in irritation at such helplessness. Minnie Albertsons’ intransigence was as defeating as the ropes deep in her flesh. Defeatedly, she asked “What must I do now?”

“I thought we’d have coffee, darling, and a few giggles.”

“I can’t drink coffee tied like this, Minnie.”

Minnie brightened. “Oh, I can look after that, Drew!” The chagrined captive could not forbear sarcasm. “Does the coffee come before or after you’ve whipped me?”

“Oh, let’s leave it till after!” Minnie was a child again.

It was hard not to laugh! Or to cry! Or to have hysterics.

It was all too absurd! But in its simplicity, frightening! Sitting naked on a kitchen chair by Minnie’s kitchen table, Drew watched her ankles ringed by handcuffs once again. She was already collared: all Minnie had to do was attach a chain. The chain led to a ring in the wall above the chair. A padlock completed this domestic captivity. Then, and not till then, Minnie loosed the ropes.

“Poor darling!” she exclaimed as the weals proclaimed themselves at elbow and wrist and were massaged for a moment by tender hands. “But I won’t rub them too hard. They’re so lovely. We may as well let them last. Comfy, Drew?”

Drew was comfy! This, too was ridiculous. But the fact could not be denied. Her joined feet meant nothing unless she tried to walk. The chain tether on her neck was similarly innocuous unless she tried to run away. Her arms and hands were free. She flexed them luxuriously. “I’m chained for coffee,” she said with a reluctant giggle.

“That’s right dear. Quigley does it to me all the time.

Everywhere in the house there’re rings.” Minnie beamed proudly. Then added anxiously “You won’t try anything silly? I mean, you can’t possibly get away.”

“Minnie, you’re sweet.” Drew sipped coffee. “If you’re my jailer, you’d better keep me chained. I don’t want to get you into trouble, but, if I get a chance to run, I’ll run.” She frowned. “Would you be punished if I did?”

“Oh, of course!” Minnie proclaimed the obvious. “I’d be terribly whipped. Or put in the dungeon for the longest time. I don’t like the dungeon—it’s so lonely.”

Drusilla used her unaccustomed freedom to reach out and pat an ann. Minnie was precious! But Minnie would also be another link in her chain. A vulnerability... How could she hurt her? “I’ll be a good girl,” she promised. “At least I will while it’s you who’s responsible.”

Minnie glowed. “I think it’s so lovely, the way it is with you and me. Fancy us not guessing before—all that time! I often look around at people and think how sad it is: not knowing... ! Haven’t you seen how unfulfilled most of them look?”

Drusilla was willing to concede the point. Minnie was as happy as she herself had been up to two days ago. But now she was obsessed by a vision of Diana’s naked back...! Her voice was urgent. “Minnie darling, Belinda says she’s going to flog Diana.”

“How lovely! I expect we’ll all be invited.”

“Minnie, how can you—?”

“But, darling, I’ve been flogged. I expect you will be, too—sometime.”

“But it’s cruel! Medieval.”

“Well, it’s not quite like that,” Minnie said as though describing a new rug. “There’re no bits of metal in the lash. There aren’t even any knots. But they use an awful whip. I know which drawer Quigley keeps his in, but I’ll never even peek. I hate it! The really awful thing about being flogged is the big production they make out of it.” She giggled. “A girl feels like a side of beef hung up to cool before it gets cut up.”

“Hung up! Oh, Minnie!”

“It is sort of bad,” the cheerful jailer conceded. “You’re hung by the wrists with your arms way out to either side. Then they do the same for your feet. They get tied down to rings in the floor.” She repeated her giggle. “You can imagine what your pussy looks like.”