F Campbell - Golden Wrists

Slowly they gathered around their freshly bound companion in distress and I wondered how long it would be before one of them found the courage to untie my wicked knots. But perhaps Elizabeth would be as tightly tied tomorrow as today. It would be an interesting experiment.

Uncle Andrew certainly got around. The shock he slipped me the following day took the form of a smiling African gentleman with very white teeth and an Oxford accent who was securely attached to a mischievous-eyed maiden of Rockley age by a pair of handcuffs from his left wrist. Neither seemed to notice the connection between their wrists, and once more I had the feeling of others playing the lead while I stood in the wings.

Introductions were instant, the gentleman being Mr. Mandel Matussi, and the maiden Miss Phomie Prendella. Arrangements had been made for Miss Prendella to enjoy the benefits of the Rockley institute to which Mr. Matussi had been delegated to deliver her in good order. Ceremoniously, Mr. Matussi handed me an envelope filled with documents and used a key to detach himself from the girl. Prudently he joined her wrists behind her back with the freed cuff. I sensed he was much relieved to be free of her.

“Miss Prendella has a tendency to run away and get in trouble.” he explained. “She needs constant supervision and discipline.” He smiled brightly. “You will find in the envelope full permission from her male parent to whip her daily and administer any other punishments you feel appropriate.” He sighed. “Miss Prendella has been a great trial and anxiety to all concerned.”

I offered him sherry which is a terrible British expedient by which they avoid offering you a cup of coffee or pouring a decent drink. Mr. Matussi shared the couch while sipping ritualistically while Phomie stood respectfully at the end of the coffee table, hands behind her back, and all the mischievousness of Africa in her dark eyes. I was told her behavior had been deplorable in her almost constant desire for male attention. From the way Mr. Matussi eyed his ward, I had to wonder if he had provided some of this male attention himself. Phomie radiated that intense female aura which left no doubt she could accommodate the male population of any country between her thighs, I sighed in resignation and admitted to myself she would be a pleasant change from all that blue blood in the cage.

Mr. Matussi presented me with the handcuff key and made his departure. My latest girl and I viewed each other calculatingly. I sensed intelligence. Phomie’s voice was richly colored. “He’s such a funny little man,” she confided as though we’d known each other for years. “I don’t mind having to wear handcuffs but now he’s taken his worries back to our country, you might as well give me back my hands. I’m not going to run away immediately I’ve arrived.”

Phomie bounced to where I sat, turned her back, and wiggled two hands securely locked in steel. I knew this magnificent moppet was taking the initiative and I should not let her. But I was curious. I used the key and put it with the handcuffs in a draw while Phomie rubbed her wrists and said thoughtfully. “Thank you. Miss Durrant. Oh, by the way, my Daddy says you may whip me anytime you wish.”

Even with her clothes on, Phomie was a dish, a dish piled high with the assurance just delivered. I felt certain whipping Phomie’s bottom would be an event, a happening, which she might easily forget but one I would remember all my life.

“I met Mr. Everleigh at one of the Embassy cocktail parties. And when he told me about Rockley I knew I absolutely had to come.” She beamed gratification. “My Daddy is an absolute dear and doesn’t mind who whips my bottom so long as he doesn’t have to do it himself. Mr. Everleigh fixed everything and here I am.” She bathed me in the radiance of a smile in which mischief was nicely blended with serious intent. “I really am a naughty girl, Miss Durrant. I won’t pretend I’m not. But being naughty is so delicious, don’t you think?”

I would never be sure of Phomie, and she knew it. Everything she said might be a smoke screen shielding her inmost self. Or she might be simply naive. I would find out.

For the moment her roving eye had come to rest upon the oaken Pillory in which so many girls had been introduced to Rockley. “That’s a pillory, isn’t it, Miss Durrant! You lock girls like me in there and we have to stand until we cry or ask forgiveness and promise never to be naughty again. Will I have to stand in it?”

“You can stand in it right now if you wish.”

“Well, perhaps not right now ... Would you show me around Rockley. I’m tremendously curious.”

“That would amuse me, too, but Rockley insists upon a special uniform. I’m afraid it’s wearing nothing at all. Does that bother you?”

“Goodness no! When I go traveling with Daddy at home I always wear what the local girls wear. That’s usually just what you’ve described, I expect you’ve seen our pictures in the National Geographic? Would you like me to undress?”

Phomie was still miles ahead but I comforted myself with the knowledge I could bring her back to heel with the ancient remedy of pain. But this I did not want to do. It would be far more fun to allow her the rope by which she would later hang. I stood in awe as I watched the baring of black beauty beyond any I had ever seen. Phomie’s skin was like satin and had a radiance all its own, and a texture I would wish to touch. Miss Prendella also possessed and exhibited with pride a well-whipped bottom. She explain it was evidence of her latest naughtiness with a junior embassy official now sent home to Ugammi in disgrace. With the final shedding of clothes and shoes, she raised her arms above her head, turning slowly as she flexed her contours for my approval. Phomie was something else!

Had Miss Prendella wished to fight the handcuffs, I could not have handled her sleek, young strength. But I need not have worried. When I produced the shinning steel bracelets, her only demure was to ask if I minded using the pair in which she’d been delivered. I gather there was some sentimental attachment I would hear about in time.

This glorious daughter of Africa held out her wrists and sighed gently as I locked the circles tight. Testing as though to make sure they would not come loose, Phomie giggled, “They’re so useful when I meet boys because they think they make me helpless. I only have to struggle the least bit to get them tremendously excited.” She sighed happily. “And they’re so wonderful to remind me to behave myself.”

“You don’t consider sexual intercourse with a man as something bad?”

“Of course not! It’s such lovely fun.” She chuckled in pure joy and raised her hands so I could see the shinning silver bands she wore as bracelets, “I mean like it’s not bad like borrowing the car, or getting home late. Or being rude to Mommy.” Brightly, as though bringing stupidity up to date, she added, “Everybody does it, you know. Or else none of us would be here.”

“There’s no men to do it with at Rockley.”

“Yes, that’s what they told me. That’s the real punishment in coming here, isn’t it? But I’m sure you’ll lend me one of your dildos ... You will, won’t you?”

“I don’t even have one to lend.”

“Then I’ll bet you have fun with us girls.”

“That’s none of your business, young lady. You’d best watch what you’re saying.”

“Will you do it with me, Miss Durrant? Or let me do it to you?”

I refused to be provoked but led Miss Prendella to view the delights of her future home. I dwelt at length upon the dungeon’s doom and gloom, and made her lift the weight of chains she would have to bear should her behavior warrant. I felt only a small twinge of defeat when she bubblingly proclaimed it the most exciting place she’d ever seen. The cage intrigued and she implored me to put her inside with all the others. But her indoctrination was not yet complete, so I took her back to my office and the waiting pillory.