F Campbell - Golden Wrists

Quibbling seemed less and less sensible. I was still bound and naked and would quite probably be whipped again if I said the wrong word. On top of this, there was also the prison upstairs with its pillar and its chain. Conceding the disadvantages of my situation, I was finding Uncle Andrew’s proposition more and more attractive, It was utterly bizarre and could only happen with a man like him. He had the facilities in Rockley and the money to make it happen.

“You mean I get to wear clothes and won’t be chained?” I asked doubtfully.

“That’s right, Miss Durrant, and if you’re considering the possibility of running away and returning to that city you so adore. I must remind you of the ease with which you may be apprehended and returned here for a punishment you’ll remember all your life. Surely I don’t have to tell you of the ease of kidnappings?”

The old bastard, he’d do it too! New York faded to be replaced in my visions by fifty young damsels I could personally whip into obedience, respect, and goodness knows what else! Grudgingly, I conceded. “I don’t have much choice, do I! Okay, I’ll say yes.”

I got the brief of nods before Andrew Everleigh turned to leave.

Feeling cheated of detail and longing for release, I demanded loudly, “Aren’t you going to set me free?”

Uncle Andrew turned to retrace a couple of steps. The tone of his voice left me in no doubt of where I was at. “You have been demanding and disrespectful, Miss Durrant. Constance will attend you with cane and whip.” He turned again towards the door and I knew unhappily that next time I would treat the Master of Rockley with all possible respect.

I went crazy and almost wrenched my arms from the sockets as I tugged and heaved against the leather wristlets and ropes. It was quite useless and by the time Constance arrived I was close to tears.

“I’m sorry about this, Miss Durrant,” she said with seeming sincerity. “I have orders to whip you again ... I had hoped we were through.”

I was frantic at the thought of going through all that agony again.

I made a mistake. “Please don’t whip me, Constance.” I pleaded like a child. “In fact, don’t whip me at all. I’ve got so many marks on me now, Mr. Everleigh will never know the difference if we don’t tell him.”

“I will tell him of this thought, Miss Durrant. He said you would undoubtedly make this suggestion. It earns you an extra infliction of five across each breast.”

“What!” I almost scream in dismay. “You mustn’t whip my breasts. He didn’t tell you to whip my breasts, did he?”

“I fear so, Miss Durrant. With the extra you have just earned, they are now to received ten strokes each. I really am terribly sorry.”

“Damn your sorry, it’s me who has to feel sorry.” I absolutely forbid you to whip any part of me. I absolutely forbid you to use any of those beastly instruments to mark me up any more than I am now. And, certainly not upon my breasts! Not my breasts!”

It was as though I had not said a word. Miss Constance’s voice sought to be soothing, “Mr. Everleigh insists upon your breasts. Miss Durrant. And he instructed me to have you spread your legs apart so I might pay attention to that area. I will begin now, Please feel free to scream.”

The women who was to whip me had no need to order me to open my thighs. In my leaping and contortions against agony I served her purpose all too well, and she used my movements to score several good hits on my so tender part. I could not hold my legs together, the pain when the thong stuck my ass or breasts was just too great. Each fresh blow set me jerking against the straps upon my wrists. As my breasts were cut again and again, even without blood. I vowed I would never cross Andrew Everleigh’s will again. Somewhere along the way Constance paused for breath to ask sweetly, “Have you a message for The Master?”

“Tell him I will obey. I will obey every word.” I rushed out the words as I heaved with pain.

“I will deliver your message. Miss Durrant. I now continue.”

It went on and on. Perhaps the leather thongs invading the privacy of my sex or impacting across the softness of my breasts were not as hard as that which had marked my back but the pain generated by them was certainly as great or more so. As far as I was concerned, this punishment was worse than the one administered so short a time before. When Constance was satisfied she had done her duty, she freed my wrists, patted my bare bottom with the assurance that all was going to be all right, then went upon her way.

I wept in a desolation of lonely pain. I cared for nothing any more except the terrible sensations recorded by my flesh. I lay upon the floor in naked misery until I heard the voice of the man I must now call Master.

“I am glad to see you a free woman. Miss Durrant. Miss Constance is an artist, is she not?”

“Am I really free? Is it all over?”

“Indeed, yes, but I expect acknowledgment.”

“I will obey you. I will do anything you wish. I will go to bed with you, should it give you pleasure.”

“Thirty years ago perhaps ... Not now.”

Male gaze prompted me to sit up and dry my tears. I was wonderful to have hands. In an excess of submission I mumbled. “Thank you for having me whipped, Mr. Everleigh. I’m sorry I deserved it and I’ll try never to deserve it again.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear. Let us put the past behind us, and, if you feel up to it. I will escort you to your new office. Come, take my arm.”

Rags to riches! All in the time it took to whip my breasts!

Leaning heavily upon male support I became aware I was enveloping us both in an aura of female musk and my own personal scent of sweat. I simply did not care.

Strength flowed from Andrew Everleigh in wave after wave to make me wonder if he had an erection or would use it if he had. I was thankful not to be addicted to male erections, they mess up a girl’s body and a girl’s life. Trying not to talk, I allowed myself to be led into a new dimension.

It was a beautiful office, totally modern except for the ivy view from the large windows. Everything in the room bespoke a comfortable authority. The desk with it’s chairs must have cost a fortune, and around the walls were heavy iron rings, perhaps as hint of possibilities. Hanging upon one wall was an array of whips and crops and canes to set my heart to thudding in forgetfulness that these things could be used upon me, too. Undoubtedly it was a sanctum to daunt a teenage heart.

“You are a headmistress, Miss Durrant. Try your executive chair.” I winced on contact, feeling my nakedness against the leather.

Cautiously I suggested. “This is a place of punishment. Are we to be concerned with the academic?”

“Not at first. Perhaps later we will introduce classes as required. The first thing the little hellions need upon arrival is the whip, the pillory, or the stocks. I will rely upon your ingenuity for other things.”

“But they’re little more than children.”

“That is not the case. A girl has to be well advanced into her teens before she demonstrates the qualities which bring her here to Rockley. Judging by inquires I’ve received, I think you may expect a few inmates beyond the age of twenty. Lady Mord Carryton, who is known to her associates as “Tuppy”, is twenty-five. Her parents giving us carte blanche over the correction of her faults.” Uncle Andrew cocked a sly eyebrow. “I suspect you will enjoy your new position, Miss Durrant.”

“Can I... I mean ... Am I allowed to remove their clothes?”

“If you wish, You’ll probably find it convenient to strip them naked for their punishments. But for the rest of the time you may suit yourself. Keep the whole clutter of little hellions permanently nude if you so desire.”