F Campbell - Golden Wrists

I fell asleep crying tears I could not wipe off. Silently on the ground beside me lay a broken pair of bolt cutters.

The penthouse of Mrs. Valerie Latimer spelt money. It also spelt isolation. No one would hear my screams. I took a deep breath as, clutching Uncle Andrew’s letter. I stepped from the private elevator to whatever fate I was now consigned to by Uncle Andrew’s mission. I was scared.

Svelte was the word for Valerie, an ageless beauty with sharp, shrew eyes and sensual lips. Her hair was drawn severely back to focus attention on finely chiseled features. Her greeting was impersonal. She read the letter then tossed it laughingly aside to say. “I suppose you know you’re a bribe?”

“Yes.”

“I can do Everleigh a favor so he does one for me. I’m a lesbian and something of a bitch. But in between us, we’ll probably enjoy ourselves. Let’s drink to it.”

This woman was simple and direct. I wished I were there to do business instead of offer my nakedness for whatever pains she might impose. Uncle Andrew had been brutally frank.

“She falls short of being a sadist, Diane, but she loves hurting girls, especially ones like yourself who are out of their teens. I’ve told her of your legal background so she can enjoy getting back at a lawyer the same way I enjoy it. I don’t know how much she’ll hurt you but that may pretty much depend on how you handle her. If you can handle her at all.”

Valerie Latimer said without emphasis as she poured drinks. “I wish to see you naked.”

Valerie was wasting no time but I knew it would come sooner or later and stripped myself naked without comment. Posing to show off my equipment. I was subjected to the closest scrutiny my nakedness usually enjoyed, almost a male’s curiosity even though there was nothing male about Valerie Latimer. She motioned to an armchair. “Sit facing me. Diane, keep your legs well apart. We can talk while I look at you.”

So far so good, it was pretty much routine. And I didn’t give a damned if this woman did find sexual interest in what I had to show.

“You’ve got a nice body,” she said sincerely. “You know I’m going to hurt it.”

“Of course.”

“I’m puzzled you’d walk in here like this. Bribes usually have to be delivered bound and gagged. And come up the freight elevator.”

“I’m paying off an obligation.”

“Well, that’s your affair. I think I’ll enjoy you. Old Everleigh is a crafty bastard and stands to pick up about seventy million out of something I can do for him if you please me. But remember, the first time you act sulky. I’ll thrash your bottom and send you home. You’ve been well whipped so I don’t have to explain what that means to you.”

The drink was potent and I could feel its fire in my belly. Oddly, I was both scared and a little excited at the thought of what this woman would do to me.

“I haven’t known Andrew Everleigh all that long and I won’t pretend to understand him,” I ventured cautiously. “I don’t believe he’s interested in the things he does to girls, not sexually. I think his interest is more in the girls themselves. His thing is to put us in situations and watch us squirm. I’ve always believed him more interested in me as a person, the ropes and chains and whips being simply a means to an end, Just an opinion.”

“The old boy’s probably impotent. And those are the ones who think up these strange notions. And get more enjoyment out of them then they ever did from impaling a girl on their shaft. I don’t notice tendencies of submission in you?”

“I don’t see them in you, either.”

“They aren’t there to see. I have to admit, though, that when I’m hurting a girl, I do have a curiosity as to what it would be like to take her place. I’m not going to tell the old so and so, but if he asked me to submit to him for an afternoon, I’d be inclined to say yes just to get a good look at his technique.”

“He’d probably turn you over to an underling. He might not even watch.”

“If he watched, it would be good enough. I’d pick up his vibes. But that’s not going to happen so let’s drop it. If you’re thinking I might let you have a go at me, forget it.”

I sipped in growing content. My flesh was heating by the intensity of Valerie’s regard as much as by the potent drink pouring down my throat. She approved of Uncle Andrew’s gift, an approval to send shivers up my spine in foreknowledge of pending pain. The voice of the Mistress was brisk.

“Are you schooled to submission, Diane, or do you struggle when you’re hurt? I don’t mind either way because I know a few tricks and can easily get the best of you in a fight. If you want to test this out, by my guest.”

I nodded, not much caring either way. “I’m not submissive but I play the role. Let’s say I’m obedient.” Hopefully I added, “I hate being whipped.”

“If that’s a hint, Diane, you can forget it. I’ll whip you as often as I wish and as hard as I please. Run back to Everleigh if you’re scared, it’s your last chance.”

I accepted a second drink, feeling pretty certain I’d need it. She continued warmly, “I’ve got three play room, we’ll have a look at them when you finish that drink. And I, suppose we might as well get started.” Valerie Latimer’s grin had a quality of friendship. “This need not be our last conversation, I enjoy a good talk with a girl I’m hurting. A bit of pain brings out all sorts of moments of truth.”

There was something tongue-in cheek about this whole thing. I could not be sure of Valerie Latimer and considered it would be wise to turn and run but the hold Andrew Everleigh had on me was a powerful force I could not deny. And there was curiosity that told me I should see what was going to happen, even if it meant getting hurt.

We both rose and I felt very conscious of my naked skin contrasting with Valerie’s very sleek dark blue velvet dress. I followed her to something I could feel sure I would not enjoy.

The big room was unexpectedly bright and bare, but in the center was a box-like affair upon two trestles, disturbingly like a coffin. “Just step up and sit down inside, Diane,” Valerie invited disarmingly. “You’ll find it doesn’t hurt a bit.”

Figuring I’d passed the point of no return, I obeyed. The box was a pretty piece of work with nothing cheap about it but from which I could get no idea of its purpose. I sat upright with feet extended which just about took up its entire length, the box itself raising above my hips. Valerie Latimer was smiling.

“I feel an absolute fool,” I admitted, feeling the need to say something. “This is something new.”

“Apart from whipping you, Diane, I will strive for innovations. Hold still while I fix a couple of things.”

The ‘couple of things’ proved to be my ankles. They were slightly raised and clamped to the sides of the box by a couple of ‘u’ bolts which slipped into small holes in the wooden side. There was a clicking as each slid in, much like the clicking of a pair of handcuffs. Quickly my feet were securely fastened to the side of the box.

Next my knees! Steel encircled each in the hollow above the knee itself, clamping them to the wood walls. It was a bit of an uncomfortable stretch as my thighs were forced apart to allow the knees to be secured touching the sides of the box. Evidently Valerie Latimer maintained an interest in keeping a woman’s private parts open and exposed. I couldn’t have gotten out of that damned box if I’d tried. She could have kept me as I was and held me safe enough. But a neatly shaped and fitted lid now slid smoothly in groves to cover my imprisoned limbs and loins, encircle my tummy and lock it tight back as though I were a woman sawed in half. This whole trick reminded me of that ancient hoax seen often on the stage. Next it was my hands, drawn down on either side against my hidden hips. Once more there were clamps. I was now held helpless by steel at ankles, knees and wrists, but the show was not yet over. A stout upright timber slid easily into sockets to press against my naked back. To this and joined by but a single link, was fastened a metal collar instantly snapped around my neck. Fingers rearranged my hair.