F. Campbell - Slave Girl and the lash

"Is nice cell. Very clean sheets."

"I suppose you'll instruct me through the bars!"

"Have pleasant lady for purpose. She is very good with whip. You will obey. Then she is nice."

"Do I have to wear handcuffs in this… cell?"

"Of course! Do not pretend you do not enjoy." He nudged a file folder on his desk. "We have complete dossier. You are most charming and interesting young female." As an afterthought he added: "And so is the delectable Miss Harding."

"Yolanda hates being tied up." Mr. Gyorkos shrugged. "That is why we buy you, not her."

"You're going to use me as a sort of whore, aren't you?" My crudity had hurt. Mr. Gyorkos almost winced. "Are doing yourself injustice," he admonished huffily. "Whores are cheap and in good supply. We use you for very special gifts." His willingness to talk and accept my sarcasms was heartening. Evidently I would have to step well over some, as yet, undefined line before I earned punishment. I was glimpsing what I was in for. I know the ways in which I'm different. I could understand how this 'difference' might be marketable. My future was half erotically reassuring and half frightening. "You want me as a plaything for men?" I challenged. He shrugged. "It has always been the role of pretty girls." Decisively he pressed a button.

"Do they need to keep you handcuffed, or are you wearing them to please me?"

"I'm new. They're not certain of me," I admitted, then went the whole bit: "I'm not even certain of myself." He was a nice type. Not young, but clean and athletic. He did not have Gyorkos's withered look, but he was half preoccupied as though he was wedging whatever he was going to do to me in between appointments.

"You can get me a drink. I suppose you know how to serve it'?" The room had everything for my discomfort and his comfort. I mixed him his drink at the bar and knelt before him, slave girl style, and humbly proffered it.

"You're not bad, child." He took his drink and sipped, gazing down at my appropriately disposed nudity. "Did they have to hurt you much to get cooperation'!"

"The whip marks are from my former owner," I told him innocently. "The one from whom I was kidnapped and stolen yesterday." My momentous announcement failed to move him. "Not thinking of nagging me for help, are you'?" He was on the verge of irritability.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't! What is it Sinclair's primed you to get out of me?"

"I don't know any Sinclair."

"Distinguished looking bastard. Mustache and Oxford accent'!"

"I was only brought here yesterday. I spent the night chained up in a rotten little cell." Actually the cell hadn't been all that bad, but I was feeling irritable too. Besides, I suspected I was going to get whipped whether I was polite or not.

"My name's Royden. Mean anything to you?"

"No. Should it'?"

"Sinclair would have mentioned it. How about Pawley Electronics'!"

"If you think I've been bribed to get information out of you I might as well stand up. Can I get you another drink? Or do I get whipped'!"

"Cool little baggage, aren't you!" He looked at me as though noticing me for the first time. "You're beautifully shaped." I got to my feet and made a pretty play with my cuffed hands. If I could please him with something simple, I'd try. "Sorry I don't know anything. I just don't." He nodded noncommittally. "Sure they haven't promised you a thrashing if you don't come up with something? It's the usual ploy."

"I only know Mr. Gyorkos and Mr. Pollard. They didn't promise me anything. I sort of got the idea my thrashing was going to come from you."

"Who's Pollard?"

"He works for Roland Bolling."

"Well, well!" He seemed pleased, as though I'd told him something. "So you're going to sweetly accept a whipping in order to soften me up!"

"I'd sooner go home," I said flatly. "If you'll take me back to Castle Glynt I'll let you whip me all you want. If you need money I can get you that too." He eyed me assessingly, then sighed. "Since we're both here I might as well enjoy the amenities." I filled his glass again. I moved as prettily as I could and made sure my handcuffs clinked a lot. "I'm a prisoner here," I told him without urgency. "I wish you'd believe me."

"What's your favourite whip?" he asked without humour. He seemed bored. "Actually I prefer to cane your bottom. It's the English thing, y'know. D'you mind?"

"Would it make any difference?" I asked coldly. "I mean, if I did mind?"

"Oh yes." He seemed faintly amused. "You'd kick up a fuss and get it twice as hard. Doing it your way I'll feel a bastard and go easy."

"Thank you."

"It's the nature of the male erection," he confided in the same bored tone. "If the female fights, it's potent. If she pleads and bowls and has to be gagged, it's a turn on. If she's beautiful and has a well curved behind she'll get no mercy."

"That last one's me, isn't it?" He actually laughed. "I like that. Yes, it's you. But I'm told you're different. One of those who want it, eh?"

"I can't convince them I'm only like that when I'm loved," I told him unhappily. "These people probably know all about making money, but they don't know a thing about girls."

"I can believe that too," he said musingly. "Sinclair and Gyorkos probably believe females should come in packages of a half dozen with quantity discounts. You're a commodity." He vouchsafed me a small commiserating smile. "You're in a bad spot, child, so far as communion goes. You're in a bad spot with me. I can understand what you say, but that won't prevent me from enjoying the privilege Gyorkos has handed me on a plate."

"You mean me?"

"Of course. They're crass and never heard of finesse. Making me a temporary gift of your body is hardly subtle. But I'm not fool enough to reject it." There was something decent under Royden's cynicism. I tried to touch it. "You intend to fuck me?" I deliberately used the ugly word.

"Oh come! You can do better than that."

"What are you going to do to me, or make me do for you?"

"You have certain talents?"

"With Yolanda, not with you."

"I can see they haven't brutalized you yet. You're pushy and you're clinging to something you've lost. It could be whipped out of you. In fact this may be the best way we can use our time together. I'd enjoy breaking you." The sum total effect of his casual suggestion made me angry with myself. The heat between my legs flamed. Royden had touched a chord in whatever makes me respond. I always see it as a betrayal of something or other, but I can't help it. I wondered if he could scent my femaleness as I suddenly could myself. I held up my handcuffed wrists, eyed them for a moment, them turned my gaze on him. "I can't stop you, can I," I said meekly.

"The way you say that is almost an invitation." I expect he was right. But I was frightened as well as sexually aroused. With me this is possible. "I don't want to be… broken," I said cautiously. "Couldn't we sort of compromise? Tell me what you enjoy most. I'll try and give it to you."

"You're in no position to give anything. You've lost it all."

"No I haven't! I'm still me inside." He nodded. "Fair enough. Select the cane you think will hurt you most."

"Is caning or whipping me your greatest pleasure?"

"Do what you're told." I recognized the moment. I knew it well. I took from the rack the instrument that would hurt most bitterly. On one knee I kissed its wickedness and offered it for his approval. He accepted and tested it without comment. "Refill my glass."

"Yes, Master."

"Have you had a man beat you before?"

"No, master."

"Where did you pick up this 'Master' thing?"

"I didn't. I just thought it would please you and show I was willing. I expect a lot of what I do is instinctive." He regarded me with new interest. "You are a bit special. I'm going to hurt you cruelly, but you're mixing that drink with a steady hand." He swished the cane through the air in a way that added fuel to my fire. "D'you know if you're up for sale?"