F. Campbell - Slave Girl and the lash

"It's lovely, Phemie." His eyes ate it up. "You've no idea how sweet you look. I'm a lucky man." He was! But little Phemie was not a lucky girl. I moaned my way through the afternoon. My poor puss complained bitterly about her treatment. But I had no one to complain to, no one to whom to pass on the pain. But I suppose that's slavery! When he let me loose I was even grateful for the ravishing he gave me on my back on the straw. That night I talked him out of tying my feet. I also got him to lock the chain and padlock on one of my ankles instead of 'round my neck. I had another lovely night's sleep. I suppose no story is all bad. The next day was something of a landmark. Or at least a change.

"I got sheep the moor, lass, and I'm a' goin' ter the village as well," he announced at breakfast. "But I ain't a'goin' ter leave yer all day tied in that stable. It smells a bit, you may have noticed."

"It smells a lot," I said bravely. "Thank you."

"A bit o' good fresh air, that's the ticket, love."

"Sounds lovely. Can I have that other egg?"

"Ain't goin' ter tie yer too cruel."

"I suppose I do have to be tied?"

"Well, love, what else would you suggest?"

"Haven't you a cage or a nice room to lock me in?"

"That cage idea, love! I like it. But I ain't got one. On a lovely day like this I don't like to make you helpless in the house. No, the fresh air's the ticket fer little Phemie today."

"Supposing it rains later on?"

"It ain't going to. I say; love, you ain't being difficult, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hennery. I'm an ungrateful girl. Please tie me any way you want."

"A real champion you are! That's a fact. More tea?" I had to be careful with him. I sensed the chasm of his displeasure always waiting. Yet there was something quaintly domestic about the two of us at mealtimes. Him feeding me because of my handcuffed wrists, and our discussions about what to do to me. Utterly absurd, eh!

"If I'm going to be out in the open all-day, could I wear something, please?"

"I ain't got no girl's clothes, love."

"I'd be grateful for anything — an old shirt."

"No." I'd pushed far enough. I followed him out into the yard. It really was a super day. My heart sang. But I had a vision of me drooping in some painful set of bondage all afternoon, that was allowing for my spirits holding buoyant through the morning.

"You're a good kid. I'm going to be easy, Phemie." It was a post in the center of his yard. Nothing remarkable in size or shape or height, but, standing alone as it was, vaguely sinister. I couldn't help thinking of piles of faggots 'round my feet and someone setting the torch to them. He must have set it up after he'd locked me safe for the night.,Without being invited, I went and stood with my back against it. I had become positive that by showing myself very willing I lessened my travail. Hennery went and got a box. A slave girl is forever one step behind, forever being led up garden paths. The box didn't belong to that post. I looked my curiosity. "Up's a daisy," said my owner.. I stood on the box. It was then I realized that the post was not as tall as one might have expected. "I thought this one up special for you, Phemie gal," Hennery explained. I could have sworn there was affection in his voice. He joined me on the box. Grasping my handcuffs he lifted and heaved. It was a painful stretch for me, but he got my chained hands up and over the top of that post. When he took the box away there I stood, as neatly attached to the wooden column as if I was a part of it.

"Chap what put them cuffs on you done us both a real favour." Hennery was pleased with his ingenuity. I did the usual motions. I twisted and turned. I was effectively a prisoner. My wrists securely handcuffed behind the post would hold me more surely than a dozen ropes.

"You can wiggle around a bit like that," said my captor magnanimously. "You can even sit down." I almost said "Big deal!" in disgust, but remembered my status and said instead: "You're terribly sweet." After I'd said it I realized I partly meant every word. I was being given a day without pain.

"I'll fuck you when I come home," Hennery promised.

"It will give me something to look forward to, Mr. Hennery." Do these exchanges of ours sound nuts? They were. But they made him happy. When he was happy I didn't get whipped, or at least not much. Now we come to the real killer! When he said good-bye, he kissed me. I won't deny it was a relief. I watched him amble over the hill and then gave my attention to getting loose. Satisfied that I couldn't, I tried sitting down. It wasn't too satisfactory and I wasn't tired yet, so I struggled to my feet again and started a nice fantasy in which I was an Indian Princess captured by the Sioux and awaiting torture or worse: the worse being fucked by the Chiefs son who fancied me. It was a very nice little dream and took up at least thirty minutes and got me lovely and wet between my legs. Then I did some serious struggles. I was putting on a desperate escape attempt for someone watching. There wasn't anyone, of course, but I heaved at my chained hands as though trying to tear them from behind the post and kept bending almost double in the effort. I edged 'round and 'round my post and looked up to see if I could possibly get my hands back up and over. I then looked for the box, but Hennery had put it away in the barn. At last, panting, and with a sopping puss I leaned back resignedly and admitted defeat. I'd known all the time, of course, but it was a nice gesture. I half dozed. The sun was kind, there were no insects. I dreamed up one fantasy after another and the time slipped by. I even had an orgasm. It wasn't an earth shaker, but I saw it as a small victory. My head fell forward as I leaned back against my post. The pair of shoes did not belong, especially since they were feminine. One minute there had been just the ground, the next minute they were there. I looked up, blinking. She was my own age, blonde, pretty but untidy. She oozed hostility. "What's Colin pay you?" she demanded.

"I bet you're Daisy?"

"What if I am? How much money he give you?" Her concern was understandable. I was threatening a monopoly. I couldn't resist tossing a bomb.

"Nothing!" She surveyed my nakedness disgustedly. "Fucking liar. You don't strip and do this fer nowt'."

"I'm kidnapped. I'm a prisoner. Free me and I'll get you a thousand pounds."

"Oh dry up!" Her voice was contemptuous. "That's a fine old lot of cods-wallop."

"It's true." She looked me up and down. Then did the thing I feared most. She clutched my puss with a firm and knowing hand. When she wiped the resultant wetness across one of my breasts she asked sarcastically: "I suppose you're the Queen's long lost daughter." I couldn't blame Daisy. After all, it was too good to be true. "Don't you want a thousand pounds?" I asked dejectedly.

"Where's Colin?" She evidently considered my thousand pounds unworthy of her consideration. I would have been wiser to have offered fifty, it was more her size. "He's gone to the village," I said miserably.

"Won't be back for awhile, eh?"

"I don't suppose so. You'll have lots of time to get me-"

"You'll earn your money today, sister. I'll teach you to barge in. Colin hires me, it's my job. Understand?"

"You're welcome to it," I told her unhappily. "If you'll get me loose and let me go, it's all yours." She went behind the post. What she saw did not improve her temper. "The son of a bitch! Ruddy handcuffs! He never blew himself like that for me. Where's the key?"

"It's lost. I was handcuffed like this when he kidnapped me. It's a long story."

"I'll just bet it is! I'm not buying. Besides, how did he get your hands behind that post without the key?" I told her. I told her quite a bit. I pleaded and begged. I tried the thousand pounds again, and then asked her to get the police. She listened to it all with a sardonic smile. At the end of my passionate striving for freedom she asked sweetly: "You know what I'm going to do to you, don't you?" Instinctively, I did know. But I asked: "What?"