F Campbell - Golden Wrists

Her name was Victoria Ponsby. She turned out to be one of those with her hands behind her back. When I called her name, her manner said plainly it was about time someone gave her proper attention. She stalked to where I stood, and glared at me as though I were the reason I was here. “I shall refuse to discuss anything with you until you unlock these horrible things on my wrists.” she said as though dictating terms. “I have never been so shabbily treated in my life and I am sure my parents will be outraged when they hear of these indignities.”

It was so stilted I wanted to laugh. I said no word but grasp a handful of her hair to lead her to a vacant cell where I made her stand to answer my questions while I sat on the only chair in the cell and used the hard bench as a table. Behind her front, Victoria was scared to death and not yet ready to deliver another diatribe. I set the pace. “I have a list of your crimes. Victoria, so we need not go into that. Have you ever been whipped?”

“Of course not! You must be mad.”

“I suppose you’ve noticed the marks of the cane on the bottom of some of the other girls?”

“It’s one of the things I’ll report to the police at the first opportunity. Please free my hands.”

Victoria was delicious, a perfect subject for anyone wishing to bring a proud maiden down to size. Undoubtedly her parents knew what they were doing when they sent her to Rockley. Quietly I said, “You will not be in contact with the police, Victoria, and you hands will not be unlocked.”

“Then, at least give me some clothes, some sort of covering ... I am constantly ashamed of this nakedness.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll soon be wearing some very pretty stripes.”

She must have known it was coming but Victoria was one of those girls who believed bad things happened to other people, not her. “If you are referring to corporal punishment, you’d best forget it as far as I’m concerned. I would never consent to such an unwarranted outrage.”

Victoria was amusingly predictable, a cliche for every need! But I was in no hurry and was enjoying her. Besides, my stock of new girls was running low as I had dealt with most of the girls in the cage. “Will you bend over to have your bottom caned, Victoria, or would you prefer to be fastened?” I inquired casually. “Every girl at Rockley gets her bottom caned upon arrival in order to give her a proper perspective on punishment. You are no exception.”

Poor child! She was breathing more and more rapidly and obviously less and less certain of the sanctity of her skin. She stood before me in the little cell, eyes roving in search of possible avenues of escape and finding none. She then asserted as if believing every word, “I refuse to submit. I will neither bend over nor allow myself to be fastened.” After a lengthy pause, she added, pitifully, “I want to go home.”

I sighed as though with weariness, even though my heart was pounding in pleasurable anticipation. I rose and once more possessed myself of Victoria’s abundant hair and led her to where the simplest of preparations awaited our attention. The rope from above was the correct length and the hook at its terminus ideally designed for handcuffs. Seeing her fate, Victoria fought and came up with a number of expressions far less stilted than her normal speech. But I had no difficulty in raising her arms and slipping the chain between her steel-clad wrists within the curve of the waiting hook. I stood away and there she was; flushed in the face and twisting in disbelief against raised arms and hurting wrists. Her hair fell towards the floor as she was forced to bend to a degree she would not have chosen herself. Amused. I grabbed her waist with an arm and used my other hands to smooth and explore the tight, round bottom.

“Don’t you dare, you rotten bitch!” she hollered. “You needn’t think you’re going to spank my bottom and get away with it. If you want to spank an arse, use your own!”

I had not intended anything so juvenile but, since the little madam was so concerned over a spanking, I promptly delivered a number of stinging blows with my palm. When her twin contours were pleasantly pink, I reminded her gently. “This is just a little warming up, Victoria. What I want you to do now is ask me respectfully to stripe this pretty little bottom with the cane. I am waiting.”

“Drop dead!”

I had Victoria immobilized and continued the application of my palm on her bottom. There is no need to relate her colorful exclamations of distress, but their tone slowly waned as her flesh reddened until she asked, “What was that you wanted me to ask for?”

“Six with the cane on your bare skin, dear.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t possibly do that.”

“If you don’t ask for them nicely, I will increase the number to twelve. The choice is yours. Victoria, please be sensible.”

I left Victoria to think about her predicament. Time was on my side and all I would get from her right now was heated arguments. I purposely slammed the cell door.

I now had a couple of delinquent charges on hold. And, since I was not yet ready to release Elizabeth Lord, I left the house to view the garden and grounds, which I felt sure offered many possibilities for discipline. The area was vast and I had no time to explore all at the moment. When I returned to Victoria’s cell, I had several new ideas. Miss Victoria was actually glad to see me.

“You’ve been gone for hours.” she accused. “And I’ve been standing like this all the time. It’s not a bit fair.”

“Twenty minutes, Victoria, that was all. I hope you’ve reached a decision.”

It poured from the unhappy maiden in the urgency of terrible decision, “Please cane my bottom, Miss Durrant...” She obviously had more to say but swallowed visibly instead. No doubt she was afraid. The yellow cane was already in hand. I swished it in the air so she could hear it’s whine before rapping her pretty little butt on which it was about to leave its print. I made my voice as gentle as I could, “Hold your breath, dear, it won’t take long.”

In actual time it took several minutes to plant six strokes across the animated flesh. Stroke number one sent my almost helpless maiden into such a series of contortions and complaints, I stood and watched her performance in a small measure of awe, There was no way Victoria’s raised arms could escape the hook but she danced and pranced and swirled around. When I suggested she resume the proper position, she said she could not possibly offer her bottom for me because it hurt far too much. When I moved to reach her bottom, she circled around within the small distance allowed her by the tether so as to keep her seat of punishment as far from me as she could. Unhurriedly, I suggested, “I can strike any part of you, Victoria, and it will hurt a great deal more than caning your bottom Why not be a sensible girl?”

“You wouldn’t!”

Victoria’s bowed head pointed in my direction so I simply tapped the side of her large breast and fear flashed into her eyes. She turned her bottom my direction without a word. I slashed the round bottom with the rest of her six strokes, then said brightly, “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was awful!”

“Very well, it was awful. But it will serve as a reminder if you wish to consider disobedience or insolence in the future.”

I think my inspection by touch of her wounds offended Victoria as much as the wounds themselves. She winced and moaned, and shifted her feet back and forth, and produced a whelp of dismay when I patted the red marks firmly. I resumed my seat.

There was a brief silence before a plaintive voice inquired, “Aren’t you going to let me loose. Miss Durrant?”

“I prefer you as you are, dear. Keep that little bottom of yours pointing in my direction so I can admire it and watch the pretty colors change.”