Frank Campbell - Bound Ankles

From her advantage point off the floor, Donna watched as the next box was unscrewed and opened. She flinched as she saw how those leather straps crushed Pip to the bottom of the box. Had she been strapped down that tight? The teenage girl was lifted out and untied from the very tight hogtied she had been bound in before being packed in the box. Her arms were limp by her sides when the ropes were off and Donna whined when she saw the angry marks from deep in the girl’s flesh from those thin cords. The girl’s arms above the elbows were an angry band of reddish indentations. The ropes peeled from her legs left their marks, too. But the girl wasn’t given time to recover. Her wrists were joined in front of her and attached to another rope hanging down from the ceiling. Donna looked up to find, as she expected, three other holes and three other ropes hanging down besides her own. When Pip’s arms were pulled up and her toes left the floor, the teenager was left to hang for a minute. Then one man bent and bound her ankles together. The young girl weakly kicked out at the man, who casually brushed aside her feeble attack. Then he had her feet together and was winding rope around the ankles. He left a few feet of rope hanging down when he was finished but did not tie that to the ring below her. Instead, he took a short length of rope and bound the teenage girl’s elbows together. Pip was forced to bend her head forward as her arms came together over her head. When her elbows were tightly together, bound by the same thin cord that had bound them when she was in a hogtie, she was hoisted again until her head was almost the level of Donna’s. Then her ankle ropes were tied down to the ring in the floor, stretching the slender teenage nudity vertically in the middle of the room.

The next box yielded Jan. Donna wanted to cry out to her mistress but had to hang mute as the oldest of the girls was unlocked from her handcuff hogtie. She tried to fight, but between three strong men, she was easily overpowered. Soon she was hanging next to Donna, hands over her head, ankles tied down to the floor, and still gagged. Before turning their attentions to the fourth box, one of the men casually cut all the already ripped clothing from Jan’s body. Donna wanted to protest that her mistress shouldn’t be seen naked before strange men, that it just wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t.

Patsy was the last to be taken from her box and strung up in mid air. Her elbows had been tied together as with Pip, but Donna and Jan had been spared the additional pain. All four hanging girls formed a large square with the two twins on her left and in front of her and Jan on her right. There was plenty of room for someone to walk in the middle of the square. Donna almost had the impression that this room had been made expressly for the purpose of hanging these four girl in discomfort.

Then the men gathered all the loose bits of rope, the handcuffs, and tossed everything into the boxes. Then they carried the boxes from the room, closing the door behind them, and leaving four naked and hanging girls to wonder about their fate.

Jan and Donna exchanged glances but the only thing Donna could get from the communication was that Jan didn’t know what was going on either. And that she was in as much discomfort as Donna. The main difference was that Donna was used to being bound into contorted and painful positions, it was a way of life with her. Jan was not. She felt terrible when she saw her mistress suffering. The four of them hung for a long time. With no windows and no clocks, they could only go by how much their arms and shoulders ached. And how much their wrists hurt. The twins seemed to be taking this ordeal with the resiliency of teenagers. Jan suffered the most, not being used to hanging by her wrists, even though she had sentenced Donna to that punishment many times. And, Donna remembered, often used it on her own daughters. Donna suffered but knew things could get worse. Much worse.

After what was probably two hours but seemed longer things got worse.

The door opened and in walked a large woman wearing only leather pants and black patent leather high heels. As she clicked her way across the floor, Donna could see that she had very firm muscle tone, firm and very large breasts, and, in general, a shape that most people would call “hard body.” Yet the woman was obviously very much a woman and very sexual in her own, powerful way.

Jan moaned in the recognition of this woman. Margaret Summers! Donna moaned, too, inwardly at the sight of the woman who had kidnapped both her and Jan before. And who had tortured both of them before turning Jan over to that cad Nigel Bransome for more torture and rape at his hands. Then she had keep Donna as a slavegirl for several weeks, culminating in a Bridewell type flogging of Donna as a show for some of her friends. Shortly after that Donna had been kidnapped by Nigel right out of Margaret’s garden. She had thought she would never see this woman again. She was wrong.

Miss Margaret Summers hated Jan. And coveted Donna.

She wanted Donna as her own full-time slave girl. Now she had all four of them in her power. It wasn’t hard to read the gloating and sadistic pleasure in her eyes.

“Well, hello, my dears,” she began as if greeting old friends. “So nice to see you again. And in such lovely circumstances. You all look so delightfully uncomfortable!”

The big woman walked around the hanging girls, tapping a riding crop against the palm of her left hand. “Very beautiful, very beautiful. You all look so lovely. I can trace the lines of stress in your bodies. I can almost feel your pain.” She sighed contentedly. “I can see your fingers hanging limp and sense the pain in your wrists. I can see your toes stretched downward but not quite reach the ground. And I can see the fear in your eyes.” The last comment was uttered through a smile that held no warmth.

She walked around behind Donna and tapped her bottom with the riding crop. “I see no fresh whip marks here,” she reprimanded. “This girl hasn’t been whipped recently. You,” she said, turning to Jan, “really are remiss in keeping your slave in the proper frame of mind. I shall correct that.”

Suddenly her hand swung out to land a slash across the tender flesh of Jan’s bottom. The girl whined loudly into her gag and arched her body with a jerk as if trying to get away from the pain. Donna tried to protest but was quieted when Margaret turned to deliver a slash across her bottom. Donna squealed and jerked her body. She now remembered just how hard this woman could whip a girl’s bottom. She wanted to close her eyes and hope all this would go away. But she knew it wouldn’t, just as she knew this woman would get a lot of pleasure out of torturing them for a very long time. A very long time. And between the whippings there would be torture of other kinds...

“And the famous twins, Pip and Patsy,” she continued with a token swat across each of their bottoms. The girls simply glared at her and didn’t acknowledge the stroke with even a flinch. “I’ve heard a lot about your abilities to escape from fairly good rope bondage. I will not underestimate you two. I understand you two have been practicing on each other for years. And that your mother helps you practice with lot’s of hours spent in bondage?” Margaret turned again to Jan. “Isn’t that right, dear?” she said sweetly. Jan’s only reply was to lower her eyes to the floor. “I said, right, dear?” This time Margaret accented her query with a slash of the riding crop directly across one bare breast. Jan cried into the gag and trembled from the pain. A red mark appeared on her breasts, next to the nipple.

“I really would like the favor of a reply,” said Margaret Summers evenly. Jan nodded her head. “Good. We are beginning to understand each other. You know, Jan, I still hate you as much as I did before. Even more so, after you sent that Nigel Bransome to kidnap sweet little Donna right out of my garden. That wasn’t very nice.”