F Campbell - Margo

When Henry Ross finally desisted from his flaggelation of innocent flesh, he freed the tender wrists and brusquely told her to turn over. Margo obeyed. It was brutally painful. Her whipped skin was now in direct contact with the edge of the desk. A moment later, her wrists had been strapped anew, but her eyes she must mm his flaggelation of innocent flesh, he freed the tender wrists and brusquely told her to turn over. Margo obeyed. It was brutally painful. Her whipped skin was now in direct contact with the edge of the desk. A moment later, her wrists had been strapped anew, but this time to compel her face up to the predatory male. Unless she closed her eyes, she must witness her own shame. The female orifice was cruelly exposed, and disregarding her moans, he impaled her as she lay. He could scarcely have chosen a great humiliation to inflict. At its commencement the girl of his choice blushed red and moved protestingly. But beneath his maleness the mood soon passed. Once more, Margo Davis entered another world, a world of ultimate sensation, of hot shame merging upward to ecstasy. She moaned again and again.

Henry Ross stayed the night. His bedroom was both plush and sinister. Margo's knowledge of it began when she was ordered to stand against one of the posts of the huge four-poster bed and raise an arm. Her wrist was cuffed by a waiting shackle and there she stood. The master casually reclined upon the bed itself and sipped a brandy.

"You need not tell me, Margo. Let me guess. You are quite willing to sacrifice everything for release, call it quits, to get back to what you call freedom."

"Yes."

"A good honest answer. The initiation must have been rough. Or was it the thrashing I just gave you this evening?"

"The whole thing." Margo looked down at him. Her arm unconsciously tugged to hurt her wrist within its shackle. She would never get used to being chained and bound and restrained – not ever.

Without vehemence, she said quietly, "I could stand it if it were for a lesser time. But for years, I can't. I just can't contemplate the years." Her eyes widened, her arms strained. "Can I get you to free me tomorrow? You would owe me nothing. I would write this off to experience. It is something you could easily do." She surveyed him somberly. "If you desired me, I could visit you in appropriate places at appropriate times."

"Logical enough. If I find a treasure, I don't toss it away."

"Very well then. How about keeping me for thirty days? I think I could endure thirty days. I can't possibly endure years, though. Somehow, I must make you understand."

"I've forgotten how many girls said those lines," Henry Ross said as he sipped his drink. "So much of this is a natural reflex – predictable. I find it amusing, but I can understand you do not. Doesn't the thought of the check comfort you? It is for a great deal of money."

"When pain reaches a certain point, money ceases to matter. I thought you'd know that. I'd thought with all the girls you have at your command, you would have understood this long ago. Please set me free."

Henry Ross chuckled. "You see, sweetheart, you put your finger on the most priceless pail of it all – the pleading maiden, the implacable bondage in which she is indentured. I pick up her vibrations and they are absolutely delicious. I'm picking up yours now. Damn it, girl, the implacability of maiden captivity is its very essence. The hopeless knowledge that she can never escape is what I'm paying for." He chuckled again. "After all, you don't get your bottom caned or your back whipped all that often, do you?"

"No, I suppose not. I suppose what's really getting to me is the word you used – implacability. The knowledge that nothing I can do or say can alter a course."

Margo motioned, impatiently. "But that's not strictly true either. You can alter anything in this place. You could set me free tomorrow. You could take me home to wherever you live and make me your mistress. You don't have to leave me here to be constantly punished. I don't see any sense in these endless punishments. I would if you were here to watch them, but you're not – you're a great distance away. And that's what defeats me."

"Ah, very well put!" Ross applauded in genuine approval. "But there is something you are not aware of. You've no idea of the tremendous impact this has upon my mind. To realize, as I got about my daily affairs, that you are suffering these pains, these punishments and this imprisonment. It is absolutely terrific. It's worth every penny of what I've offered you."

Margo's retort was bitter. "What you're saying is that knowing I'm being given a bad time here keeps you with an erection. Every thought of me being whipped or bound hardens your cock. Is that it?"

"My dear girl, you are being deliberately vulgar." Negligently, Henry Ross set aside his drink, rose from the bed, selected a cane, and without further preamble, proceeded to punish the already whipped surface of the twin globes that could not moved beyond his venom.

No matter how she turned and twisted, the girl with one hand securely shackled above laid herself open to the bite of the cane, until she hopelessly turned her face to the post and dared him to do his worst. The punishment instantly ceased.

"Vulgarity is something I cannot abide," Henry Ross said evenly, as he returned to his reclining position and his drink. "You would do well to remember that, young lady."

She was crying and dabbing at her tears with her one free hand. Enough of anything was enough, and to be caned anew for what she had just said scented an outrageous injustice. She had spoken no more than what she believed to be the truth. Pathetically, between sobs, she muttered, "There isn't any justice. You don't believe in justice. You just believe in your own belief in your own pleasure."

Languidly, the man sighed, and once more set aside his drink. For the second time, he thrashed the girl chained to the post of his bed.

This time he elicited screams that were at least half from anger and her burning sense of something utterly unfair. But at the end of it, she hung limply. In answer to his question, she said abjectly, "Yes, I will obey you. I will do anything you want. Everything I have said is wrong. I should not have said it, and I apologize." Desperately, Margo gave way to a second floor of tears she could not restrain.

For an appreciable time, Henry Ross stood surveying the punished girl. He found a pathetic loveliness in her forlorn pose. Her wrist was still cuffed to the post above her head, and she drooped against the carved wood in hurt weariness. Satisfied, he finished his drink, turned out the light, and went to bed. He was almost instantly asleep. His thrashed slave girl was ignored and allowed to stand as she was through the dark hours of the night.

"What the hell did you do to the man?" Mildred Harridance said, eyeing her youngest mistress with amused and tolerant eyes. "He's coming back this afternoon, and he's made a point of asking that you be in attendance. It's a royal command."

"I didn't do anything. He thrashed me and made an abject to a point where I bated myself. This time I'd better grovel on all fours right from the start."

"No, don't do that. He made his point with you last time – don't belabor it." The headmistress chuckled at an inward visit. "You're in for another little surprise. Henry's a bit of a kook in his ways. I have to round up a few delinquent girls, if I can find any, and that means he's here for a punishment spree. I suspect you're going to have to watch, and he'll be curious about the effect on you. Look, if you feel disgust, don't show it. He doesn't want any emotions to touch his shining male ego. When he thrashes a girl, he wants to be a shining hero in her eyes, not what he really is – a mean son of a bitch. There's no use my asking if you can handle it. You damn well have to handle it. I don't imagine you want to spend another night hooked to his bed post."