Frank Campbell - Bound Ankles

Jan took Donna’s coat off and told her to show her figure off. Donna did, turning around like a fashion model, letting this slave trader see her big, bouncy breasts and the way her hands were tightly bound and out of the way. She got a little thrill out of showing her figure off for a man she knew bought and sold girls. It was easy to think of the whole thing as a game when she knew that Nigel and Jan wouldn’t really sell her. So Donna laid it on thick, both in showing off her lovely body and in acting very submissive and obedient.

It must have worked. Rashad almost licked his lips. “No spirit, you say?” he asked. “But everything else is first rate, no?”

“Oh, the girl is good looking,” Nigel tossed off casually. “But what good is a slave who is already broken?”

Rashad nodded. A man used to handling slavegirls would surely understand those who like to break a girl’s spirit and reduce her to an obedient slave. It was a challenge to do it without ruining the girl.

“I understand,” he said. “Perhaps I can help you. But perhaps you would like to have this lovely creature not present while we discuss the details, no?”

“You have someplace to store her?” asked Jan in a very haughty tone.

“But of course, Madam. We are well equipped to handle slavegirls here.” He clapped his hands and two men entered. “Take this slavegirl to the holding cells.” Then he turned to Nigel. “Would you wish that she be punished? We have some delightful pieces of equipment downstairs?”

Nigel actually yawned. “If you like,” he muttered in a rather bored tone.

Rashad waved his hand and the two men took Donna from the room, each holding her upper arm. The stairs downward were short and she soon found herself walking alone a corridor with many doors, most of them closed. When the finally turned into one, Donna found that she was not to be punished alone. There was another girl already in the room, a girl about Donna’s age, completely naked and cruelly bound on a version of the Horse. The room had a metal pole running from one wall to the other, a pole about three feet off the ground and only about two inches in diameter. On that pole the other girl was sitting. Her arms were bound behind her and pulled up towards an overhead hook, and her legs were spread wide apart by ropes going to hooks in the walls. She looked as if she had been there for a while and was suffering.

“Please, oh, please take me down,” the girl pleaded with the men. “I’m hurting so much. I’ll be good, honest I will!”

The men ignored the pleading nude girl as they took Donna over to the pole. One pulled up her skirt until it was above her pussy, then both of them easily lifted her up and set her down straddling the pole. It wasn’t as sharp as the Horse ad Margaret’s, or even the one that Jan had in the big room in the basement of her house. But it was also not very wide and not the most comfortable thing to sit on.

One man attached a rope to those around her wrists and threw that over the hook above her. The other was tying a rope to each ankle. Soon they had Donna riding the Horse, legs spread very wide, arms tied overhead so she couldn’t possibly get off. Donna, being an experienced slavegirl, considered this a mild punishment. It hurt and would certainly grow uncomfortable as time went on, but could have been much, much worse. Perhaps this was Rashad’s idea of a polite punishment for a visiting slavegirl.

The other girl did not seem to be very used to this kind of treatment. “Why didn’t you fight them?” she asked with a sneer in her voice. “You could have kicked one of them in the nuts.”

“And what would that have gained me?” replied Donna calmly. “They’re stronger, my arms are bound, and I could never get away.”

“It’s still stupid not to try. I fight them every chance I get.”

“Tell me, do you get punished more than the other girls here?”

“Well... I guess so, But a girl has to try to escape. I just have to.” The other girl, who was a very pretty blonde with a good, if somewhat slender, figure, shook her head. “I would do anything to get out of this place. I’ve been up here for hours and it hurts something terrible.”

“It could be worse,” offered Donna. “Have you ever ridden a Horse with a sharp edge?”

“A Horse? Is that what they call this thing. Well, no. But this is bad enough. It’s pure torture.”

Donna didn’t bother explaining to this girl that real torture was where you were in so much pain that you couldn’t carry on a conversation like they were, and when it got bad enough after many long hours, you began screaming and couldn’t stop.

“They kidnapped you too, huh?”

Donna didn’t see any reason to try to explain the truth so she just nodded.

“Are there many girls here?” she asked, hoping to get some information about the twins.

“I don’t know. A few. Maybe five or six. It’s hard to tell. They got cages and cells all over the place.”

“When I was kidnapped,” Donna launched into a story she thought would fit what she saw here, “I was held in a house somewhere for several days. There were two girls with me when we were all kidnapped but they took those girls away the first day. You haven’t seen two teenage twins? Both black hair, slender but good figures for their age?”

“Yeah, I saw them. And you think I give the guards a bad time! They were hell on wheels. After the first day they keep those girls really tied tight. You know what I mean? I don’t mean just handcuffs or some rope like they treat us. I mean like tied with their feet up to their hands behind them, you know. Really tight.”

“Those girls were friends. Do you know where they are?”

“I think they were sold. That’s what I hear is going to happen to all of us. We get sold! Would you believe that? Like in some cheap, men’s adventure novel. One day they’re going to get in real trouble with the law. Yes, sir.”

“They were sold? To who?” Donna held her breath. “Oh, I don’t know. No one tells us anybody’s names around here, you know.”

“Did you see the person who bought them?”

“Well, yes, I guess.” She paused to try and shift her weight on the metal pole. “Gawd I hate this thing. And this place. And all those assholes who run it. Stupidest thing I ever heard of. Slaves right her in American. Didn’t the constitution outlaw that or something?”

“It did. But what about the person who bought the girls?”

“Well, he was a tall, good looking man. Sort of average. Wearing a business suit, blue, soft pink tie. Sort of average looking man, you know?”

“Average,” said Donna, all hopes dropping. “And she was a real weirdo, you know.”

“She? It was a couple who bought the twins?”

“Nah. The guy bought one and the gal, she bought the other. I just happen to be in the room both times, that’s why I saw them.”

“What did this woman look like?” said Donna, hoping for any little clue she could pass on to Nigel and Jan.

“Well, she was tall, all dressed in black. Really slinky black dress, you know. She had black hair.”

“How old was she,” prompted Donna.

“Well, old like. You know. Like maybe thirty or something.”

“Anything else you noted about her?”

“She was kind of pretty but never smiled, you know. Black dress, black handbag, black shoes. Real funny way to dress.”

“Could she have been in mourning?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” Donna shifted her weight, or tried to, and then quit. The effort was too hard and just hurt more. The pole seemed to be getting thinner by the minute.

For a long time neither of them spoke, each absorbed in her own pain. Donna had mixed feelings. She had learned something but not enough to be of real help. She hoped that Nigel and Jan were learning much more. And she sighed when she realized that those two were upstairs trying to convince Rashad that they wanted to buy two girls who were already sold. Maybe this whole thing was a waste of time.