F Campbell - Golden Wrists

It was a beautiful, courageous assertion of feminine pride, something Margo had to do. Hugo stood admiring the single wound. No doubt he understood Margo’s defiance but gave it no sympathy. His second blow was every bit as wicked as the first. It stung Margo into a silence from which she emerged in a pealing scream of agony and outrage, while her naked loveliness proclaimed an outrage of its own in a series of jerks and a little dance upon air. While she was thus frantically engaged, Hugo struck again and then again until his leather had planted itself five times upon female contours no strap should ever touch. He then ceased to inquire pleasantly, “Was that what you expected, Miss Hammil?”

“Oh, damn you to hell!” Margo got the words out with difficulty between gasps and moans. “You don’t have to hit me so hard, you don’t have to do this at all. Please don’t whip me any more. Please stop ... Master?”

“You only just remembered that ‘master’ bit at the end, didn’t you?” Hugo inquired. “I must find a reminder.” The captive eyes followed ever move. Breasts heaved and she panted. When the strapped girl beheld Hugo’s choice, her cry was piteous. “Not that! Oh, Master, not that! I saw what that did to Diane, and I know I can’t bare it. Please, please, please!”

Hugo sliced the virgin back five times with the chosen but fearful instrument. I know he was not applying it as hard as he might have done, but Margo evidently could not tell for her performance equaled my own in its intensity of feminine surrender.

I had to hand it to Hugo that he whipped us only from behind, leaving our breasts still virgin. It’s bad enough for a girl to be whipped on her back and where she sits down but there are other far more intimate places into which or across which a leather thong might impart its venom. Actually, I suppose both Margo and I were that day treated with male mercy we did not realize while it was taking place. Suddenly two naked maidens were alone and panting in our bonds while drops of sweat trickled from our bodies. After a while, my companion ventured timidly. “Is it really over?”

“I think so. He’s leaving us to stand like this just to make sure we think about the punishment. Like when he left us before the whipping.”

“Are you quite sure, Diane, he won’t come back and whip us some more?”

“A girl can’t be sure of anything while she’s fixed the way we’re fixed. That damned man can do anything he wants to us.”

Hugo must have been doing some thinking while he was gone for when he returned he tied my left wrist to a ring in the wall overhead, then did the same for Margo’s right, making sure we were well apart to make his next little trick possible. He crossed my right ankle over Margo’s left and tied them tight before raising them up to attach them to one more ring, just high enough to assure discomfort and placing them out of-reach of our hands. Noting the instability of our posture, he most kindly cinched our waists back to one more ring in the concrete wall in a fashion to give us support from which we would have no wish to free ourselves since it was the only help we were getting in a damnably horrid posture. He stood back to admire his work, “You make a really lovely pair,” he enthused with genuine enjoyment of our feminine exposure. “I like the raised leg effect. It shows both of you to good effect. And you tied ankles make a nice communion, don’t you think?”

I didn’t dare complain, it could be worse. But Margo apparently did not feel the same. “It’s horrible,” she said with real feeling. “It’s an absolutely indecent exposure, I don’t like this. Do something else.”

Poor girl, I wondered if she really believed we had anything to say about our punishment. Hugo kissed us both, Margo too startled to protest, then went about his own affairs, leaving us to stand like a couple of storks. It wasn’t a good situation for two naked girls.

We each had a free arm and hand and looked at them in doubtful speculation. Our first act was to a make a dive for our fastened feet but our other tied hand were too high and wide. Our fingers could get nowhere near the ropes tightly knotted on our ankles. We might have gone to work on the ropes around our waists but that would rob us of stability.

“I don’t believe this!” Margo cried. “Is this the sort of thing he does all the time?”

“I think he wants us to enjoy communion,” I suggested. “Mostly you get tied to a tree or a post or chair, or spread-eagle on a bed. But Hugo does really try for innovations. I’ll be he’s watching somewhere through a peephole to see if we play with ourselves. I don’t see why else he’d leave us this one hand.”

“I never play with myself,” Margo affirmed proudly. “A girl has to be in a damned bad way before she resorts to that.”

“We are in a damned bad way, and he’s made it so very easy”

“You can do it if you want, I’ll look the other way, I wouldn’t have thought it of you. And you a lawyer.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. Can you think of a way to get us free?”

“I’m working on it. What about you?”

“I never bother. Once a girl’s been tied by an expert, she might as well save herself the trouble and a lot of chaffed skin. Margo, we’re here to stay and we might as well make the best of it.”

“But I’m already tired of standing on one foot, and I’ll be more tired every minute.”

“That’s the way he wants it, dear. I recall you telling us you wished to be broken? A few hours of standing like this will at least get you bent.”

“A few hours!” She turned to me in pure horror. “He wouldn’t dare!”

“Why not? He owns us. If we get too abusive when he visits, he can always whip us again. He can make most effective use of one of those whips with us tied this way. I’m sure you can guess how.”

“You mean my pussy and my breasts! Oh, come off it, Diane, he wouldn’t do such a thing.” She pouted for a few seconds, then added. “Would he?”

“Why not? It’s probably the reason he keeps us the way we are. My pussy screams aloud for attention the way we are, and I expect yours does, too. Hugo has been damnably clever in leaving us this one hand and I’m damned if I know what to do with it.”

“Can you reach...?”

She held out her hand invitingly. I tried but fell inches short of her fingers.

“The best thing we can do is think of something we can talk about. We can’t get loose. Come on, dear, think of something.”

We stood, raised wrists hurting, and the one leg on which we were forced to stand getting more and more tired of the weight it must bear. If we kicked our other leg, all we did was upset the one our ankle was tied to. We constantly reached around with our free arm in a quaint belief that surely there must be something we could reach or do. If there was, we never found it. After a while Margo fell into a trance-like introspection, and withdrew into her fantasies, while I thought of my office and being a lawyer. A lawyer stripped stark naked and bound against a wall with her leg pulled high to reveal her sex. Hugo returned sooner than I’d dared hope.

My master and client probably has a foot fetish. Or next ordeal was to stand strapped as if to be whipped but with an ankle roped to its companion, so that Margo and I were still standing on one foot. The indecent exposure was the same as before and evidently pleased Hugo immensely. And I was not a bit sure about Margo’s protests. I suspect she was getting a great, big charge out of the whole thing. I realized I would never be completely sure of Margo. Perhaps Hugo, too, would never be certain what went on inside her pretty head. Anyway, the two of us stood there with hands tight strapped and a single tied ankle, We simply had to endure this fresh bondage, since we could make no progress at freeing ourselves. We tried to be content with standing as a stork. Hugo’s first visit proved unwelcome.