F Campbell - Golden Wrists

“So you want to sell yourself for three million bucks? Is that it?”

“Not really. But I thinks it’s best if I go with him. If I don’t, he’ll take me by force and I’d hate to be strapped up tight in a crate or getting a needle jammed into my arm and waking up goodness knows where. Just two or three months...?”

“No. You belong to me. We’ll show this old goat there’s something he can’t buy. But can’t we show Margo to him, he might like her?”

“Go ahead, Hugo, introduce them but you’re running the risk he’ll take her, too. There’s nothing cheap about Uncle Andrew.”

“I’d phone the old fart if I didn’t think he was bluffing. But if he’s playing it straight it would tell him where you are. In your frame of mind, I can’t trust you, Diane. You’ll stay the way you are. I like it.”

“But, Hugo, you’ve got me naked and helpless. Don’t you understand it makes me a package ready for picking up if he or some of his boys broke in here.”

“That isn’t going to happen. But if it did, they’ll have to kill me first. And then take you anyway. The worst enemy is yourself and this erotic dream he’s planted in your mind. That’s what I have to protect both you and myself against. If I take you out to dinner, will you promise to come back here like a good little girl afterwards?”

“Of course, Hugo. I’d love that. But are you sure you don’t want all that lovely money. I mean, I will do all you tell me but it seems to me a shame to pass up three million dollars.”

“Damn it, girl! I’m no slave trader. I’m not selling you or any girl for cash. Can’t we take my claim to the courts and get the money that way?”

“That’s still uncertain, Hugo, dear. But I think it would be less uncertain indeed if I allowed Uncle Andrew to get possession of me.” I bestowed a sly glance of assessment. “I don’t think we have to call it ‘selling me’. Couldn’t we sort of think of it as renting me out? Or, better still, renting myself. I’d love you to have all of that money ... Master?”

Hugo was only slightly mollified. He kept my hands cuffed behind my back until it was time for me to dress. And even then I knew he hated to free me. I was not allowed to have a look at Margo, she was not included in the dinner plans. For a girl who wished to have her spirit broken, she was getting her money’s worth. Considering I was a girl contemplating indefinite enslavement, I enjoyed dinner very much. But Hugo was morose and was having a hard time sorting out three million dollars, his integrity and the possession of my person. The hell of it was I couldn’t help him but had to be touched by his evident concern for my welfare. He kept muttering about me being locked in dungeons or being beaten half to death and then being handed over to a bunch of blacks for their enjoyment. I told him he’d been reading too many novels. And there we stuck.

Everything had changed. Or should I say Uncle Andrew had changed everything! I no longer wanted to sever my ties with Hugo. In choosing between the two: Hugo or pending enslavement. Hugo won hands down. He had me and he could keep me so far as I was concerned. If he didn’t want his two million dollars, that was his affair. It sounded simple and logical but I knew it wasn’t. Hugo might truly believe he could best Andrew Everleigh, but I knew if it came to a tussle of wits, or money, or sneakiness, he didn’t have a chance. I didn’t bother to ask myself what the hell I really wanted myself - I didn’t know!

Hugo’s male ego insisted I be naked and handcuffed on our return home. And, if that pleased him, I wasn’t going to argue. The golden handcuffs had taken my fancy and felt good upon my wrists. I had missed them at dinner and felt sure I would recapture their magic when they bit again. I went straight to the lounge to undress and pour the brandies while I still had hands. But once inside the door I stopped in my tracks in surprise.

Margo Hammil stood against the wall, her wrist was locked to the ring in the manner by which slavegirls were parked. I had never seen her more radiantly happy.

Sitting comfortably upon our couch was Constance and Andrew Everleigh. They had found the brandy and seemed well content. Hugo went straight to the point, “Get the hell out of here!”

“Don’t be angry,” said Uncle Andrew soothingly. “We’ve only just arrived and had a pleasant chat with the young lady over against the wall. This brandy is not at all bad, and, in case you’re interested, I have a key which fits most doors. Please do sit down.”

Hugo could probably have made mince meat of Uncle Andrew but that would solve nothing. I smiled at Constance who, smiled right back, but it was to Uncle Andrew I spoke. “Mr. Markham doesn’t want to accept your offer, and he doesn’t want me to, either. The papers will be returned to you. I’m terribly sorry.”

Uncle Andrew sipped the brandy with appreciation. I dragged Hugo to a chair then sat on his knee and put my arm around his neck in a way I had never done before or even thought of doing. It’s strange how you can sleep with a man without really becoming intimate. Uncle Andrew was not fazed. “I suspect you’re doing that for my benefit,” he suggested slyly. “I was young myself once but look back on it as a bit of a bore.” He looked at us mischievously. “Oh, by the way, there’s been a change of plans.” Hugo’s tension eased somewhat. “I’ve come here.” continued Uncle Andrew, “to take delivery of Diane Durrant. But when we looked around we discovered Miss Hammil tied to a post downstairs. She explained she is partial to such treatment so I’ve decided to divert her to my castle in place of Miss Diane Durrant. I’m sure you approve?”

We approved but dared not say so. There are times when fate is just too kind, and you wonder if the axe is still about to fall. Hugo asserted his position as a host with a declaration, “I’m glad you made that decision, Mr. Everleigh. I had considered that possibility myself. Miss Hammil is a most charming woman, appreciative of any kind or length of rope. But so far as Miss Durrant is concerned, she is my property and I intend to keep her”

He sounded a bit pompous but the speech went over well. I refilled glasses and good will flowed. Darling Margo was given a half glass of brandy which she immediately drank down on an empty stomach, ignoring the possible effect. “It’s a nice idea to leave a slavegirl with one hand free to do the chores and look after herself. Margo behaved delightfully and did not even ask to sit down. She was excited as all get out.”

“I am taking Miss Hammil to the Caribbean to fill the position intended for Miss Durrant,” said Andrew Everleigh calmly. “I contemplate a mutually satisfactory association.”

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” said Hugo.

“You really don’t mind?” I spoke directly to Margo. “Gosh, no. I can hardly wait!” I suspected the brandy was beginning to take affect.

“Constance will make sure she will not be whipped beyond her capacity,” Uncle Andrew said regally. “Should you wish to visit, please feel free to do so at any time.” I shivered as might a maiden delivered from a snake-pit but inquired. “There was the matter of money, Mr. Everleigh. What are your feelings on this matter?”

The ancient billionaire was in a benign mood, probably due in part to Hugo’s brandy, partly to the beauty and incredible figure of Miss Hammil. He said, “If Mr. Markham will be kind enough to sign the documents. I will attach my own signature and the transaction is complete. You will receive your check within a few days and may I wish you every happiness.” He mused thoughtfully. “Should your conscience bother you about Miss Hammil, please feel free to visit my estate and satisfy yourselves her chains are not heavier than she can bear.” He smiled lovingly. “You may also inspect the other delights to which she will be subject. With all the money you’ll receive, you may wish to fill in a bit of time in your retirement.”