Frank Campbell - Bound Ankles

All three girls rested, waiting for Nigel’s return.

The night was warm and the stars shone down like brilliant, hard diamonds on the rocky mountain landscape. They were close enough to the desert to smell the dry air raising into the night sky, and high enough for the air to be thin and cold at night. Three figures were posed beside a Mercedes Benz, its lights off but its engine cracking and pinging as it radiated heat. One figure was a man. He sat in the car, his work over for now, awaiting the order to drive his mistress back to the brothel.

The second figure was a tall, darkly beautiful woman. She wore the traditional robes of a desert tribe but in black. A veil covered the lower part of her face. She stood with her legs spread wide and hands on her hips.

The third figure was lying on her back on the ground. Each wrist was locked tightly in a handcuff, the other cuff of which was locked about an iron ring set in a cement block set in the ground. Each ankle was similarly secured to rings so she was spread-eagled on the hard, rocking ground.

“This is a caravan trail,” said Natasha. “Does that surprise you? That camel caravans still plod these ancient desert trails? This country is as it always was and always will be.” She picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. “The sand remains. It is timeless. As are the people who live on it.”

The dark woman looked around. They were alone.

“Caravan’s travel at night to avoid the heat of the day,” she continued. “Perhaps there will be a caravan along tonight. Perhaps not. But do you know what will happen if one comes?” She laughed. “They will find a teenager girl chained on her back and with her arms and legs spread wide in invitation. She will be naked. She will be gagged so she cannot even protest her ravishment by a pack of dirty camel drivers.

“Do you know what a camel driver smells like? I know. When I was your age camel drivers were among the men who used my body. I know what they smell like.” She paused to look around again. “Perhaps you will know before this night if over. I’m leaving you here. I’ll be back in the morning. If you are found by a caravan, they will leave you here. They understand that sometime Madam Natasha leaves girls here. They don’t know why but they use the girl and leave her. They won’t unlock nor cut those handcuffs, You will be here in the morning.”

She checked the straps on the gag, tightening up one that had loosened the slightest during the long drive from the brothel. “Sometimes I leave a rebellious girl here. A night in the desert is not pleasant for a naked and chained down girl. And if a caravan finds her, it is much more unpleasant, no? But sometimes I just leave a girl here as a gift to those who endlessly travel these wastelands.”

Natasha turned back to the car. “Perhaps I don’t even know why I do it,” she said, perhaps to Patsy, perhaps to herself. But she did pause at the car to turn back to Patsy. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetness. Unless the jackals find you. There will be little left then.”

The car door slammed and the wicked woman was gone.

Patsy jerked and pulled at the steel circlets holding her prisoner but to no avail. With the car headlights gone, the darkness closed in, only starlight as her company. That and whatever crawled, stalked or ran along the still warm sands. Patsy wanted to cry.

Nigel returned. He noticed the new marks on Donna’s rump and breasts, now turning various shades of purple and blue and black, but said nothing about them.

“It’s an incredible place inside,” he began. “Any kind of bedroom, you’ve got it. Want a dungeon? You’ve got your choice of several. They even had one wall filled with different kinds of whips, more than I ever imagined. And your choice of twenty or thirty different girls. I saw a dozen different nationalities.” .

“But what about Patsy?” interjected Jan, nervously.

“No sign. At least she’s not part of the regular inventory. I gave them the chance to offer her if they had her available. I described an American teenager type but the closest they could offer was a French girl I doubt was over thirteen years old. No, if Patsy’s there, she’s not part of the usual inventory.”

Jan looked like she wanted to cry.

“Don’t worry,” Nigel continued. “We’ll figure out something.”

Jan’s apprehension turned to anger. “And did you enjoy whipping and screwing that little French girl?”

Nigel’s eyes turned hard. “Jan,” he said slowly and carefully, “I know you’re worried about Patsy. But I am a man. And I whip and screw any woman I want to, whenever I want to. You had better understand that.”

The silence was absolute. For long seconds it drew out with Jan and Nigel locking eyes. Nigel was the one who finally broke it. “As it happens, I did not chose the French teenager. I picked a cute American girl who was about twenty-four. I whipped her ass enough for her to be in pain, then told her I’d stop and forgo the screwing if she would tell me anything she knew about the other Americans who were held prisoner. She described three other girls, but none were Patsy. She also said that she was kept to that one part of that building and didn’t know what went on in the rest.”

Jan put her head in her hands and started crying. Nigel put his arm around her. Donna stood up and motioned with her head for Pip to come with her to the bedroom. When they were out of the main room, Donna said, “Let’s leave them alone.” Pip looked like she was about to protest but then sighed and said nothing. “How would you like whipping my ass a bit?” Donna offered.

Pip smiled weakly. “Your bottom is pretty marked up already,” she pointed out.

“Well, so are my breasts. Okay, how about you tie me up in some terribly uncomfortable position?”

“Okay.” Pip seemed to brighten up a little at the prospect. What followed was not unusual for slavegirl Donna when at the hands of either or both of the twins. First a rope was tied to her neck collar. Then other ropes were used to bind her ankles and knees together, as tightly as the teenager girl could pull the ropes. Then Donna was placed in a sitting position on the bed with her legs straight out before her. The rope from her collar was passed through the cinch ropes of her knee bondage and back up to the collar’s ring. Pip pulled that rope until Donna was forced to bend forward. Finally her chin was against her knees. Pip ran the rope back around the knee bondage and down to the ankles where she tied several firm knots, Donna was now lying on her side, doubled over. She expected Pip to bend her feet back under her and tie them to her wrists, making Donna nothing but a big, human, naked ball. But Pip didn’t. Instead she tied one end of a rope to Donna’s wrist ropes. Then she rolled Donna over on to her back and pulled her until she was positioned just right. Then Pip took the rope from her wrists and tied it taut to one comer leg of the bed. She then tied another rope to Donna’s ankles and pulled that one up to the opposite corner of the bed. She pulled that rope as tightly as she could before tying it off. When Pip stepped back, Donna was lying on her back, her legs pulled up and over her head and secured so she couldn’t possibly unfold. Pip added a couple ropes from Donna’s knees down to the other two corners of the bed and Donna was prevented from even rolling over on her side, It was certainly an awkward position. Donna had to wonder if Pip had plans for her bottom, which was a very vulnerable target, sticking right up and very taut. But Pip didn’t fetch any riding crop, She didn’t even seem inclined to spank the upturned bottom with her hand. Donna was to suffer purely from the tight bondage position she was in.