F Campbell - Drusilla

“It’s awful!”

“Well, yes, but it doesn’t happen all that often. I’ve only had it once. Quigley was awfully sweet to me after.... ”

“You keep saying ‘they’?”

“Well, there’s Belinda and Homer and me and Quigley, and we used to invite Diana. There’re some other couples, a sort of group. We sort of gravitated... ” Minnie grinned. “It makes a girl feel terribly important—spread and tied like that, and all naked.”

“I’d die!”

“No,you wouldn’t. You’re scared, but you’re the star turn. Without you there wouldn’t be a show. It really does things to your pussy.”

“Minnie, you’re incredible. Give me another cup of coffee and tell me what you and Quigley are going to do to me now you’ve got me.”

“Well, half of you belongs to Belinda. I’m not sure.”

“Belinda says your Quigley will make me have intercourse.”

“He doesn’t usually call it that,” Minnie snickered. “You can guess what he does call it. And he doesn’t call your pussy a pussy either—and we’re not supposed to. You’d better watch that. He’s got punishments for everything.”

“He’s your husband! You mean you don’t mind?”

“I’m sort of hoping he won’t do it to you,” Minnie admitted. “But I’m pretty sure you’re going to get passed around to the other men. You see, darling, you’re a slave... ! I’m a slave, too, but in a different sort of way. You’re owned by a woman.”

“I wouldn’t have thought a woman would have wanted a mess like that inside her slave.”

“I really don’t know. I’m afraid they expect to get a big bang out of your reactions.”

“You mean they’ll stand around and watch while I get—”

“They call it ‘fucked’,” said Minnie innocently.

“On a bed?”

“Oh, darling, that’s not very probable. They think up the darnedest—”

“Oh, there you are! Got a cup for me? Hello, Drusilla.”

“Hello, Quigley.” Drusilla had to force her hands to stay where they were.

“Don’t bother about covering your breasts. I understand.” He beamed impartially at both as though a chained and naked woman at his kitchen table was no novelty. “We’re glad to have you with us. We’ll make sure you don’t escape. Matter of fact, I came home early in your honor.”

Quigley regarded his captive guest with grave courtesy.

He was not a bad looking man, but business had stereo typed him to match his sober name. It seemed incredible that he could whip a girl. Drusilla had always liked him in their infrequent meetings. That she should be his prisoner was one of the oddest shaped bits of the jig saw that was now her life. She poured all the appeal she could muster into her voice.

“Quigley, I’ve got to escape! I just have to—it’s Diana and Ginny—”

“She doesn’t think Belinda should give Diana a flogging,” Minnie contributed helpfully.

“Do Diana a world of good,” Quigley declaimed grandly.

“Put her feet back on the ground. Every woman needs at least one.”

“Oh, Quigley!”

Perhaps he was joking! His humor was dry to match his mien. The outrageousness of what he had said made it suspect. Drusilla pressed forward. “Look,” she pleaded earnestly, “let me loose on parole so I can go home and release Diana and Ginny and get things back to normal there. Then I’ll return and surrender myself to you.” She looked at the blank faces of her captors, then struck the table with clenched fists as to make the cups rattle, and her voice became desperate. “Honest! I will! I will! I give you my word!”

“Isn’t she sweet?” said Minnie after a long silence had greeted the captive’s outburst.

“Drusilla is a very nice person,” Quigley agreed soberly.

“Well, then?” Drusilla looked from one to the other hopefully.

Was there sympathy in Quigley’s regard? His voice was sober. “I’d be inclined to accept that assurance,” he said slowly. “But I’m afraid it’s not practical.”

“But why?”

He smiled kindly at his prisoner’s flushed face. “A matter of ethics. We are obligated to Belinda. The whole situation is almost entirely her prerogative.”

“I don’t see that Belinda matters.”

“Oh, but she does! Each one of us matters. What Belinda is doing is no more than a logical sequence arising from what you and Diana were doing.”

“What we were doing was voluntary. I wasn’t kidnaped.”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that what you were doing was the dream? This is the substance.”

It had occurred. Drusilla cringed inwardly, even as her loins flared. The chain on her neck and the steel upon her ankles now were unquestionably more coercive and captivating than anything she and her mistress had contrived. “Let me go,” she said sullenly. “Just let me go... ”

“You are subject to the whip, Drew. Don’t forget that... in the things you say—your attitudes.” Quigley’s admonition was strangely kind.”

“Whip me all you like! Give me the flogging when I come back to you. And I will come back. I promise!”

“You haven’t seen the most important reason for not releasing. you,” Quigley continued gently. “It’s Diana. You give Diana her freedom and there’s no way she’s going to allow you to come back here. She won’t be bound by promises.”

“But I’ll explain—”

“A free Diana isn’t going to listen to explanations, Drew. You know that. Diana will be a raging fury if she’s freed. Halfway through your explanations you’d find yourself flat on your face, her knee in your back, and your hands tied.”

“Oh, Quigley, don’t be so—”

“Well, it’s true! Isn’t it?”

It was true! Drusilla knew defeat. Diana was the stronger. In a tussle, she would win—just as Quigley had described. She had nothing to bargain with. This, then, was the reality of slavery—a total subjugation to the will of others. She glimpsed a frightening vista. “Are you going to keep me— always? Never let me go?”

The phone rang demandingly.

Drusilla’s urgent question was dissipated into limbo as Quigley lifted the receiver. He responded with quiet monosyllables to the distant voice. Then turned a puzzled gaze upon his captive.

“Drew, stand up. Turn around—both ways.”

Drusilla obeyed. Why not! Her nakedness belonged to everyone but herself! When, at a motion from him, she resumed her seat, he returned to his caller, his voice incisive: “No. Nothing new.” He listened attentively, then responded. “You may rely on it.”

The two girls exchanged wide-eyed apprehension. They had guessed. Quigley returned to his coffee, each of his casual words ominous: “It appears we have some unfinished business.”

Nobody answered.

“And why is it unfinished?”

“Well, it hasn’t been that long—”

There was little optimism in Minnie’s assertion. Drusilla quivered in anticipation.

“A matter of eight strokes—?”

Minnie fidgeted. “Well, we thought we’d have coffee.”

“Ah!” It had a portentious sound. “No doubt you were both prepared to forget—?”

“Oh, Quigley, don’t make a big thing out of it. Belinda dramatizes... ”

“But we have rules, dear. A code.”

“All right then!” Minnie abandoned a weak defense. “I was lax. I let it slide.”

“And you, Drew? I gather you were quite content?”

“Of course I was!”

“Ah!” Quigley sounded triumphant. “Now we are getting there! Minnie, you may undress.”

“But, Quigley! Just for that? You mean I’m going to be punished?”

The delinquent wife’s indignation was tempered by the same excitement that was fanning Drusilla’s smoldering fire. Minnie achieved nudity with surprisingly few motions.