F Campbell - Golden Wrists

Our master was all smiles as he surveyed his dual prizes, paying close attention to the area now exposed between our legs. He affected to sniff the air inquiringly before ceasing to be a gentleman. “You two girls stink to high heaven,” he told us. “I absolutely have to do something about it or you’ll chase me out of the room.” He went outside to return almost instantly with a hose. I don’t know where it was attached to, but when he turned it on, the water that came shooting out proved to be cold.

He washed our naked bodies, paying serious attention to getting our exposed pussies very clean. The water was cold and the spray hard against our soft skins. I had wondered why there was a drain in the middle of the floor but just assumed it was a normal part of this basement.

Hugo said little as he cleaned us. But what was there for him to say? He had come up with a new punishment, one that came under the category of ‘good, clean fun.’

Probably because he didn’t want us to stand there dripping wet, he then fetched towels and rubbed our bodies dry, paying extra attention with the rough towels to our breasts, sore bottoms, and pussies. Then he left us still bound and standing nakedly exposed, and alone again.

I will have to admit that my body responded to the toweling and the strong male hands on those erotic parts of my body. But I didn’t admit that to Margo. I suspect she felt the same, to judge from the look in her eyes and those erect nipples sticking out. Strange how such rough treatment can excite a woman’s body.

Our master was in a mischievous mood and showed no hint of leaving off the punishment. When he returned his voice was thoughtful. “How about a nice spring clip on each of those pretty lips you’re displaying? It would be a nice topic of conversation.”

It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about putting a metal clip on the very tender lips of my pussy, and that sent a shiver down my spine. I was pretty sure Hugo was teasing but behind the tease was a deadly possibility we might easily provoke. I though longingly of my office and the work awaiting me, and asked myself bitterly what a lady lawyer was doing naked and exposed like this. Somehow this had to stop. But for sure, that termination was not to be today!

Hopelessly I said, “What you’re doing to us now is bad enough. And remember we’ve both been whipped. Couldn’t you go a bit easy?”

Unpredictably as always, Hugo shrugged, kissed us both, and went away to leave a pair of nude females heaving vast sighs of relief. But we also had to be wondering what he might think up next.

Margo’s ankle and mine, tied together as they were and no way able to reach the floor, were a constant torment. The single foot on which we stood constantly hurt. Margo’s own beef, when she came out with it, was a surprise, “Diane, do you remember that first evening in the restaurant when I asked to be broken? I said I was in no way a submissive but wanted the very thing most girls would hate - a cruel male hand?”

“I remember”

“Do I seem sort of silly to you now? Half the time I want to murder Hugo but the other half adores everything he does. Am I weird?”

“Probably a case of too much too soon.” I suggested cheerfully. “But it will sort itself out because freedom and you are going to be strangers for a long time. And whatever Hugo wants to do to you, he most certainly can, he’s not likely to break bones or do the hot iron thing, but can certainly make us feel less self-reliant and certainly hurt us.”

“I’ve never been a submissive,” I continued, “but if Hugo walked in here right now and offered to release us, I’d kneel and kiss his feet. I’m sick to death of having to stand the way we are.”

Margo sighed and shifted as much as straps and rope permitted. I forgave her for tugging at my bound ankle. “I don’t think I could do what you just said, but I’d like to get out of this.” Her voice suddenly changed. “But I love him as much as I hate him.”

“I know that feeling well.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Diane, but please give me a bit of help. What am I?”

“Just a girl who couldn’t find anyone to play with. But finally you found Hugo. But I’ll warn you straight, there’ll be plenty of times you’ll wish you hadn’t. For instance, right now. Or isn’t this bothering you?”

“Not as much as I think it’s bothering you. But I’m thinking, beyond now. Hugo and I haven’t talked about time, but do you have any idea how long he’ll keep me prisoner?”

“I don’t see why he’d give you back your freedom so long as you give him physical pleasure and are good to look at. I’d say at least ten years”

“Ten years! It doesn’t seem possible. But I can easy see how he can keep me as long as he likes. I’ve been watching for chances to escape but he’s never given me the hint of one. He keeps me foxed one way or the other all the time. But there’s another thing.” She gave me a girl to girl glance. “He’s sleeping with you right now, but when will he sleep with me? I haven’t enjoyed lying in chains on the floor while you two make love. Honestly. I think you’ve got it good, Diane.”

The thought had never occurred to me. I’d yielded myself to Hugo’s phallus and Hugo’s whip because of an obligation I’d entered into. But the way Margo presented it made me think. For sure I wasn’t enjoying what I was enduring at that moment, but there had been other things...! I set that speculation aside to demand, “You don’t really want to get free of Hugo, do you. Margo? If he pushed you out into the street right now, you’d feel let down.”

You can only bat eroticism around just so long until you find yourself going around in circles. I’ve long known it was just a case of men doing things to girls in order to find a prolonged pleasure not usually attendant upon the sexual act itself. For most men the act of sex is a brief ecstasy, easily spent and regretted. But to have a girl prettily bound and to whip her to your hearts content produced all the same sounds and emotions which extreme sexual satisfaction and excitement extracts from girls, Men with money are fortunate because if they don’t get the thrill from us in one way, they do in another. Margo and I kicked the whole scene around while standing on one leg. The SOB made us stand like that for hours until we both shed tears of self-pity and were so glad to see him when he finally showed up that groveling on hands and knees would’ have been a pleasure. At least it would have been for me!

“May I ask both of your to join me for dinner at The Wharf?” he inquired in greeting.

I said an immediate yes, but Margo simply stared. “You mean you’d let take me out in public?” she asked in disbelief.

“Of course, why not?”

The poor girl swallowed a couple of times before proving her innocence. “But I could run away, you’ll lose me. Is that what you want?” Her voice was vivid with hurt.

“You won’t run away,” Hugo said with assurance. “You’ll return here with me and Diane and you’ll ask me for your chains.”

In a belated realization of the chance being offered, Margo said a hasty yes, and added a thank you. I reserved judgment, knowing there had to be a hidden kicker in this somewhere. I was bound with more than chains but Margo was not. Our master took his time about freeing us, and we had to endure some more pussy frictioning before the return of hands and feet. We were sent upstairs to bathe and dress and do the things girls do before the temptation of a flirt with freedom.

Margo and I bathed together, I had evidently earned her trust for she told me without shame of her intention to use this dinner date as an opportunity to escape. She had had enough, and Hugo’s methods were either too harsh or her own tolerance too weak to continue on and make a career of being a slavegirl. I simply shrugged. It no longer mattered and my mind was engrossed with thoughts of a freedom of my own.