F Campbell - Drusilla

Demurely the privileged captive extended her hands.

Diana’s rapture was reminiscent of engagement rings and large diamonds.

“Must I be careful? I mean, will they go tighter if I press?”

“No, there’s a little lock gadget Bryce used. See those tiny hoes... ? They’re fixed.” Pride tingled. It was like a casual dropping of their origin as Tiffany’s.

Diana fingered lovingly, a pilgrim at the shrine. The shining metal and the encircled wrists were turned and lifted and scrutinized from every angle. “Darling, model them for me. Oh, please?”

Drusilla happily obeyed. Diana’s joy was one more unexpected dividend. Pleased amusement lit her face as she performed housewifely motions around the room, each one extracting glints of steel. “Bryce has kept them locked on me for four days and nights,” she explained cheerfully. “I’m getting quite good at doing things.”

“But, Dru’, how can you dress—or leave the house?”

“I don’t. I’m forbidden to dress, and I haven’t been out of the house the whole time,” she giggled. “I thought it would be awful but it’s not. I’m horny all the time.”

“What d’you think I am! Oh, Dru’, I’m consumed by lust. But how long... ?”

“I think the first stage is nearly over,” Drusilla confessed. “Bryce says I have to be punished because I let you cane my bottom before he got at it.”

“Gorgeous!”

“For you, maybe. What about me?”

“You’ll love whatever he does to you. You know you will.”

Drusilla wrinkled her nose. “And he insists we have to go out and around. I’m positive he’s got something fiendish in mind. Probably that damned corset.”

“Lucky you.”

“Maybe we should trade husbands.”

“Darling, if only we could!” Diana sighed sadly. “You’re certainly welcome to Hinton. He’s so disgustingly safe.”

“At least he doesn’t cane your bottom or put you in chains.”

“That’s what I mean. I’m unfulfilled. If it weren’t for Ginny... !” Diana shrugged. “I suppose you’ve figured out that Ginny’s her mother’s daughter?”

“Sort of. She’s a darling.”

“She’s a teenage volcano! What’s that make me?”

“And Hinton’s no idea what he’s sitting on?”

“Oh, he’s got an idea all right,” Diana admitted slowly.

“But he doesn’t want to be bothered. I’m an exotic piece of furniture and Ginny’s all mine to worry about. He kisses us on birthdays.”

“Don’t sound so sad.” Drusilla, once again, experienced the lovely rich feeling. “Bryce is going to lend me to you. I think he figures you’ll be shockingly cruel. Will you?”

“I’ll put you on the bar and alternately nibble and flog you. How’s that?”

The surge of flame through her inmost being left Drusilla breathless. Diana had to be kidding. But the impact of her words had been like bullets. The handcuffed woman had a mental vision! “You wouldn’t!” she accused with feeling. Then, suddenly eager, “Would you?”

“Of course I will, stupid! I’ll whip you and love you and send you home totally fulfilled—a bit limp, perhaps.”

Again the searing flame. Drusilla wondered if anything showed though the latex. “He’s going to deliver me to you in handcuffs,” she informed meekly, loving the sudden passion in Diana’s eyes.

“I can’t bear it any more,” affirmed the wife on Hinton Winslow. “I don’t care whether you’re hungry or not, Dru’, you’re going to have to eat. I need relief.”

Watching Diana fling aside her clothes, Drusilla was aware of power. Slaves were not always petitioners! She fed very hungrily indeed, her chained hands clutching and loving as best they could.

After the tumultuous journey, rendered all too short by Diana’s pulsing excitation, the serviced woman lay back and pantingly exclaimed: “I needed that! Oh, Dru’, you’re wonderful!”

“Slaves strive to please, mistress.”

“If you say things like that you’ll have to do it again.” Diana shook her head bemusedly. “You’re a sexpot.”

“You taste sweeter than honey, mistress.”

“Drusilla! ! !”

Drusilla feasted once more.

“I’m going to have to watch this,” Diana mused as she disdainfully resumed her clothes. “I’ve been addicted to you for years. You’re habit forming.” She shook an admonitory finger. “And if you come up with any more of those erotic remarks I’ll go and find Bryce’s whip.”

“It’s in the drawer of the hall stand.”

“That’s a deliberate invitation—you minx!”

Drusilla giggled. It was becoming a habit. “Not really. I don’t think Bryce would like it if you marked me any more.”

“Do you care?”

“Well, sort of. I have to find out what his ideas of punishing me are.” She held up the handcuffs. “These aren’t a punishment. They’re a sort of prelude. Could be he’ll do something I’ll hate and won’t want.”

“It’s almost certain to hurt, idiot.” Diana smoothed her frock. “Did you put that latex on to please me or to hide your cunt?”

“Handcuffs make a girl feel about three times naked, Di’ You’re a visitor. I had to do something.”

“But you’ll be punished if he finds out?”

“So he says.” Drusilla paused. “I haven’t really disobeyed him yet.”

“Scared?”

“Hmmmm, maybe. But I haven’t wanted to. And he’s been a dear and gone easy on me. I’m saving it up.”

“You melt at the thought, don’t you?”

“Diana, it’s you who’s melting. Gosh, I wish I felt like you.”

“You do. You just don’t know it yet. Think of how far you’ve come in a week.”

It was true! Drusilla was denied comment by the door chimes.

“That’s Ginny,” Diana said without concern. “I left a note for her to follow on. There’s some unfinished business... ”

Ginny was blushing. She carried a long, slender something, untidily wrapped. She absorbed the impact of Drusilla’s nudity, the latex and the handcuffs without shock. “Oh, Mrs. Hammill, you look lovely like that,” she exclaimed with girlish sincerity. “I expect Mummy’s told you why I’m here?”

“Just unwrap it, Ginny,” Diana ordered.

It was the cane! Drusilla suddenly remembered the agreement. She looked from mother to daughter, amazed by their dedication.

“Bet you thought I’d forgotten, Dru’?”

“Mother never forgets, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny assured anxiously. “I have to have my hands caned. Remember?”

“Well, yes, but surely... ?”

“Oh, you’re thinking of the four days delay,” Ginny said brightly. “Mumsie didn’t bother that day you were there. I’d had—well, my bottom had been well looked after. I was sort of tender. Mummy’s so sweet.”

“Yes, isn’t she.”

“Two on each hand, as I recall?” Diana asked cheerfully.

“Yes, Mother, but I was wondering... ?”

“Your bottom’s not so tender now, so you’d like them there?”

“Yes, please, Mother. Could I?”

“No.”

“Oh, Motherrrr! I make such a fuss when it’s my hands! I’m always ashamed. And with Mrs. Hammill! Mother, could I have it on my bottom, well bent over, and get an extra? That would be five.”

“Not for five, and not for six. Off with your clothes, Ginny.”

“But if it’s just her hands, why naked?” Drusilla watched the phenomenon of Ginny’s swift conversion to nudity in puzzlement.

“It’s so I feel ashamed, Mrs. Hammill,” Ginny explained helpfully. “I’m getting sort of used to it. But having you watch makes me all goosey. Do you think I’m nice?”

“You’re lovely.”

“I’m so glad.” Ginny sounded deeply sincere. “I’d hate to have to hold my hands out to be caned if I was fat or flat-chested or something.”