F Campbell - Golden Wrists

I hurt. I was spread tightly between two bedposts at the foot of Valerie’s bed. My captors stripped me bare and bound me thus under the direction of the woman I’d betrayed. My outstretched arms are secured by wrists alone, wrists that are tightly bound in soft bandages to let me know I’m intended to be suspended thus a long, long time. My feet are roped wide apart to leave me once again in the position of the “X” frame of bitter memory. But this is worse for my nakedness is without support other than my wrists. When Valerie goes to bed, we would be face to face.

Miss Valerie Latimer sat on the side of the bed and surveyed me with an amusement I did not share. “Silly girl!” she said quietly. “I suppose you know what to expect.”

I longed to be freed from the appalling fix but instead said quietly. “Yes. I’ll be terribly punished.”

“Well, that looks after that, you little idiot.” Her voice held hints of laughter. “If you’re curious as to why you got picked up so swiftly, it’s because I judged you by myself. In your shoes I would have run away just like you. A precaution seemed sensible. Welcome back!”

I could think of nothing worthwhile to say and kept silence.

Valerie was surveying my nakedness with every evidence of pleasure. “Hurting?”

“Horribly. My arms are being dragged from of their sockets.”

“No, they’re not. You just think they are. You’ll still be on one piece by morning.”

“If you leave me like this, I’ll be dead.”

My mistress laughs. “You overstate a bit, Diane dear. And a lovely sense of drama. May I assume you feel regret?”

“I feel a bitch, I let you down. I am guilty as hell, but please punish me some other way. I can’t endure this all night.”

“Poor darling! Everleigh tells me you have a gift for doing the wrong thing. He says you were a lousy lawyer and should be kept on a chain. I guess the old boy’s got you figured.”

At that moment I could have cared less about Uncle Andrew, all I wanted was to be untied. Helplessly, I asked, “Is this my punishment, or can I expect something worse? If there is anything worse.”

“Diane, my pet, you know perfectly well there’s something worse. Didn’t I promise you a whipping? Now it’s going to be doubly worse.”

Between guilt and pain and fear I ceased to be Diane Durrant or a lawyer of anything else other than a girl who’s spirit was utterly broken. I started to cry, and once the gates were open, my tears flowed with floods of misery. My mistress eyed me with interest until she kicked off her shoes, stood on the bed to dry my eyes and cheeks with an avid tongue as though their saltiness was good to taste. Soon her lips found mine and, in the loneliness of despair, I kissed her back as though with love.

“That’s better,” she said when we paused for breath. She patted my pussy in its blatant spread. “Want me to let you down?”

I tensed with longing, not believing what I’d heard. Urgently I surrendered, “Yes, oh yes! Valerie, I’d be so grateful!”

“I’m sure you would. But I’m still curious about obedience. Do you still have any?”

“Yes! I’ll give you the obedience I thought I owed to others.” I shook the hair out of my eyes with the only movement allowed me. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Valerie laughed and patted my cheek lovingly before stepping off the bed. I was tense and anxious with hope. But instead of reaching for my bonds, she started to undress. When she was as naked as I, she posed prettily to ask, “Like me?”

“Of course I like you, you’re beautiful. You’ve got a wonderful body. Please untie me.”

“It’s bed time, dear, no special occasions. By the way. I’ll be naked when I whip you, it gives me so much freedom.”

I watched as she turned off all light save the bedside lamp. She lay upon the covers and stretched erotically for my view. Her fingers played lightly along her body. At another time I might have been enthralled, but now was too engrossed with my pain to really pay attention. With a sob of despair, I allowed my head to bow forward. In bitter disappointment I blinked back another flood of tears.

Valerie was enjoying me. I wasn’t paying too much attention to anything but hurting but I could feel the intensity of her eyes as they traveled up and down my nakedness, and sometimes lingering upon my corded wrists and ankles. As though I were sharing her bed, she talked entertainingly of this and that, asked questions about Hugo, and described Uncle Andrew affectionately as a wicked old so and so. I tried to keep up my end of the conversation but mostly came out with little gasps and moan, interspersed with pleas to be freed. After a while, Valerie got tired of my absorption with my own punishment, turned off the light and went to sleep.

I was the loneliest girl in the world. I was terrified at the prospect of hanging where I was during the hours until dawn. The turning out of the light and sounds of Valerie making herself comfortable for sleep dissolved any courage I had. Recklessly I blurted out, “Don’t leave me like this! Valerie, you can’t! I’m begging you ... Please!”

I should have known! The light went back on and Valerie’s nudity slid from beneath the sheets and went to perform an errand I could not see but almost immediately I heard the placement of a chair and rubber placed against my lips. “Open up! I’m going to give you five with the cane in a moment, and you can easily make it ten. Hear me?”

Valerie stuffed my mouth and bound my lips tight in the soft leather strap buckled tight behind my neck. The chair was taken away and the pain began with swift, sure strokes biting at the bottom I could not move. I got the five strokes. “You’ll be able to make some noses through your nose, darling, but if you do, I’ll whip you again. Be a sensible girl and enjoy your punishment.”

Once more the light went out as Valerie sought her rest.

My hands were numb, my shoulders wrench with the stress. But I realized I had reached a plateau in my suffering and must endure in silence, if I could. It was coming through to me then that I really was going to hang there all night, spreadeagled across the end of her bed while she slept!

I told myself in dark despair that by morning I would be dead. Punished girls don’t die. I’m not entirely sure how I got through that awful night. Here and there I lost consciousness but those periods didn’t last long. I hated the tight strapped gag with a bitter loathing. Sometimes I cried, the tears trickling and drying to leave their salt upon my skin. The times in which I hung unconscious were a blessing I desired.

By morning I was pretty far gone and only dimly conscious of the cutting of the cords. I fell to the bed and lay there not much caring about anything except a vast welling of gratitude I had not the energy to express. Gentle fingers arranged my nudity and covered it with a blanket. I slept.

I awoke to the aroma of coffee. I drank it eagerly and came alive. Then I was led to the bathroom by a mistress who ignored my ordeal of the night. I was then handcuffed and led to the kitchen to be fed. There was not a spark of fight left in me.

“I’ll have coffee with you, dear. Haven’t the cords left the most gorgeous marks! I won’t bandage them, they’re altogether too lovely. I’ve got you the loveliest breakfast.” Valerie was quicksilver, slipping back and forth between a sadist and a warm and affectionate female, I couldn’t hate her, and basked in her affection all through four cups of coffee and food I ate as though starving. The sleep I had been granted worked wonders.

Handcuffs in front don’t bother a girl. When I had done the dishes and stood uncertainly in punishment-induced submission, my mistress got back to normal, “Seems we had something on the books for today, didn’t we?”