F. Campbell - Slave Girl and the lash

"Not now, love. Right now you and me's going to have tea. After we've had it you're going to get the fucking of your life." I didn't know what to do or say to be right. I resorted to need: "Could I have breakfast please? I haven't eaten for a day and a night."

"Bacon and eggs do yer? I'm hungry myself." I drank the tea thankfully, and ate the food he shovelled into my mouth. I forbore mentioning the advantage of giving me my hands. He would only do that when he was damn good and ready, if ever! Then Mr. Colin Hennery fucked me with immense panache. Why talk about if! It's like being whipped. I could make a pun of the comparison. Stroke by stroke! I'd been fucked by an uncouth stranger who did it rather well. No doubt he would fuck me again. And that's that! I hoped that next time he would take off his trousers.

"Another cup, lass?" We were sitting in the afterglow, or whatever you want to call it. I said: "Yes, please."

"You're a lovely bit o' arse, lass. What's your name?"

"Thank you. My name is Euphemia: Phemie for short."

"Pleased ter' meetcha, Phemie. Finest cunt I ever see."

"You are too kind. What about toilet arrangements?" I was keeping him enough off balance to earn respect.

"You want to pee or something?" He seemed surprised.

"If you're going to keep me prisoner it's something we have to live with." Faced with feminine unreason he became irritable. "I ain't goin' ter let you run around loose. I go behind the barn meself."

"I don't mind if you watch," I offered brightly.

"Wouldn't be proper, lass." He affirmed with in-consistent purity. "Tell yer what though. I got a length o' chain. I'll padlock your ankle when yer want ter go."

"Thank you. It's a lovely arrangement." We made a solemn pilgrimage to a tree well removed from the house. I extended a naked ankle for the chain and padlock which seemed to weigh five pounds. There was another of the same to go round the tree. Since the chain was fairly long it gave a lady a bit of latitude for her toilet.

"Are you going to keep me naked, Mr. Hennery?" I asked brightly as we sat down for our second lot of tea.

"Ain't got no clothes, lass."

"There's the blanket I arrived in."

"Nah. Naked's more my style." I shed no tears. The rug had been untidy and draughty. No doubt I would become accustomed to being ogled full time. Colin Hennery was fascinated by my breasts. "I bet you haven't seen many naked girls, Mr. Hennery?" I enquired archly.

"The likes o' me don't get to," he retorted bitterly. "And them we do ain't in your class. Big rumps, big bellies, fat legs." He shook his head sadly. "Proper treat, you are. We'll have another go after yer finished yer tea." The second 'go' was much like the first. I could well see that, in Mr. Hennery's company, it would save a lot of trouble for a girl to be naked, or at least without panties.

"Don't you ever take your trousers off?" I asked innocently.

"What for'!" He seemed surprised.

"Never mind, thank you."

"You thinking of an extra inch?" He demanded. "I can put a pillow or a log o' wood under… "

"Never mind," I said hastily. "I was thinking more of being polite… and won't your trousers get a bit messy?"

"They're messy now. Bloke what has to work…" I let it drop and hoped he would. I sipped from the cup he held reverently to my lips. "Have you any other work in mind for me besides what we've been doing?"

"What yer up to, lass? You got ideas? Don't you try no tricks now! What you calling work?" I had sought tact. I abandoned it. "Fucking," I said briefly.

"Never looked at a piece o' arse that way," he reflected musingly. "But I suppose to a hoity-toity lady like you…" I could feel punishment hovering in the way he said it. Please don't call me that," I pleaded. "I'm not hoity-toity at all. I'm not a lady any more, even if I ever was. I'm a criminal, and if you hand me over to the police I'll become a convict for a long time." He was mollified. He now looked at me expansively as though moving on to the next order of business. "You're quite right," he agreed. "I can't be fucking you all the time. More's the pity! But there's other things I can do, ain't there!" He treated me to a broad wink.

"Such as?"

"They didn't give you them whip marks in Brixton?"

"Actually, no. I annoyed someone."

"So you stood still and let 'em whip you?" My courage drooped. What was the use? Wherever I went it would be the same. I thought yearningly of Yolanda and castle Glynt. Why, oh, why, oh, why!

"I'm sorry the marks bother you. They'll go away in a week or two. It doesn't matter how I got them, does it?"

"They don't bother me, love. They interest me. Come clean now, someone paid you to let 'em put them marks on your hide."

"The last thing I got was money," I said bitterly.

"How about me putting a few on you too?" There it was. Honest intent! "I'd rather you didn't," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "It hurts a girl far more than you'd believe."

"Some girls like it."

"You've been reading books."

"You like it. I can tell."

"How on Earth-?" I should have kept quiet. His confirmation was one sought from my puss a lot in recent days. I gasped at the clutch of the huge hand on my fur and winced as he wiped it's gathered wetness down one of my pinioned arms.

"Even talking about it… " He left the rest unsaid.

"I'm always wet," I wailed. "Surely you could tell when… when we… "

"You like that too, lass." I was betrayed by my glands. But the mind activates them, so I suppose I don't have a good excuse. I'm bad. But I ought to have been with Yola, not this oaf. Whatever Hennery did to me would be a sort of rape. The trouble was, he had me, had me good!

"What is it you are going to do to me?" I asked without spirit.

"I want to whip you."

"Can I stop you?"

"Not really. But I'd like it if you'd ask. I mean, show you're willing."

"But I'm not!" I gazed at him in desperation. "Can't you see, I'm tired and sore and scared. I know you can do anything you like with me, I'm helpless. All I can hope is you'll let me have a night's sleep arid talk about it then. I'm beat." It touched him. It also opened up a new vista of delight: his!

"You ever been tied up!"

"You've tied and chained me yourself."

"I don't mean that. Proper like. Artistic." If I'd have had a giggle left I'd have used it. I just admitted wearily: "O.K. Mr. Hennery, I've been tied up and chained up and handcuffed and the whole bit. How'd you like to tie me up now and let me go to sleep?" He was enraptured. Men are absurd. I let him guide me to his barn. There, in a loose box with bars he tied my ankles together with rope and locked a chain 'round my neck, the other end was fastened to an upright stanchion. Houdini would have been dismayed, but I'd given up caring. I said thank you for the fresh straw he threw on the ground, then reclined on it as best I could. He threw my faithful blanket over me. Almost instantly I went to sleep. The last words I heard from him beyond the locked stall door were: "Ain't nobody never comes here, Phemie gal'." I couldn't have cared less. I slept the rest of that day and on through the night. I'd wake up, cramped from the rope and chain and handcuffs, but I'd turn over and wiggle a bit and drop away again. Yola's dungeon had been good training for Mr. Hennery's hospitality. I suppose there could have been worse villains — for me anyway. Some other girl without my fire between her legs might have been in permanent hysterics. He had the decency to keep his erection until I woke up naturally and called out a few times until he came. It was morning and the sun was shining. He untied my ankles and fucked me right away with the chain still on my neck. They say it's better after a long sleep. They could be right.