F Campbell - Margo

On the journey back to Rossland. Henry Ross had little to say. He seemed preoccupied and Margo, beside him on the front seat, doubted it had anything to do with the unhappy maiden firmly fastened in the trunk. When she asked him, he shrugged and said, "I'm wondering what to do with you. I think I'll forget the idea of the apartment – it leaves you too exposed. This fool affair with Bea is a message for us. I've never had to think about kidnapping before. I have no close family, but with you – well, if I set you up, you'd simply become a profitable target. For the time being, you'd best go back to Rossland. You may amuse yourself exerting your mistress status upon the little lady in the trunk. Don't hesitate to mark her up. She deserves it."

"But she was kind to me. That is, as kind as anyone can be to a kidnapped girl. I'm not sure I can?"

"Certainly you can. I order you to. Never mind Bea. We were talking about you."

"Wouldn't it be best if you just gave me back my freedom? I wouldn't expect any money, and it need not be the end of our knowing each other." Struck my sudden inspiration, Margo said. "You're going to need a secretary, so how about me?"

"No. There would be too many tongues wagging. You'd be bombarded by questions." He drove awhile in brooding silence. "There's something else I'm thinking about in regard to you. I haven't figured it out yet. You'll have to give me time. And anyway, it's no big deal, except to give you a change of pace and scene."

He laughed at her curiosity. "You probably haven't realized it but you're a tempting morsel to a lot of people. The face of your being at Rossland and being with me makes you doubly potent. I have to watch what I expose you to. The one safe place is Rossland."

Margo shrugged in silence. Beneath the blanket thrown carefully around her shoulders, she fingered the handcuffs. Evidently, she was not to lose them yet. There were times when she wondered if she even wanted to lose them. This was one of them.

Henry Ross was a man who made things happen. He was a force. It was good too belong to him. He was what girls expected of husbands but rarely got. She hotly denied to herself his prowess in bed had anything to do with her sentiments. Rossland enveloped her again as though she had never been absent. Most of the inmates did not know she had. They had not missed her. But one intensely interested female was Mildred Harridance.

Henry Ross had no sooner seen Bea Maxwell safely installed in a prison call than he departed on the eternal business of the male. Mildred lost no time in summoning to her office the object of her curiosity. Margo through how silly people were to become too attached, so deeply immersed in almost anything, no matter how bad it was, she was finding it now, in the return to Rossland. Her mistress's tunic seemed to fit her more snugly and flatteringly than before. Its and around the middle was distinctly becoming, and she wore it with some pride. She was beginning to feel now that she had earned it. Feminine fineries were denied beneath any girl's tunic at Rossland. In fact, there was little room for them. Her nipples were again excited under the friction of the frock. Her still red bottom blushed shyly and unseen only a few tantalizing inches above her hem. A pair of new shoes went along with this authoritative attire. Margo Davis was not even handcuffed. She felt as though she owned the whole establishment.

"All right, honey, sit down and let's have the whole damn thing." Mildred Harridance was obviously pleased to see her back. In a way, they had become companions rather than prisoner and wardress. The older woman who bore the same welts as Margo quietly listened to what was, after all, an account of a brief adventure. When it was told, she spoke.

"I'm glad to have you back. I need someone like you here. You are a buffer. Did you know you're being made custodian of this silly Bea Maxwell bitch?"

"I don't want to be mean to her. She wasn't mean to me at all. I'm afraid I feel a bit sorry for her." Margo made a hopeless gesture with free hands. "Her only trouble is the same as mine. She wants a lot of money, and she saw a way to get it. It was a different way than what I took, but essentially, we're not that different."

"That may be true." Mildred smiled grimly. "But you know Henry Ross. He wants the little biddy's ass properly warmed. In fact, if you sat her on a hot stove, I think he'd approve. After all, she did betray him."

"This custodian bit?" Margo was curious but not enthusiastic. "What does it mean exactly? Do I keep an eye on her while I go about my usual affairs, or is it something far more personal and serious?"

"Henry Ross was emphatic. You are to give Bea Maxwell a real hard time. She's safe in a cell now and scared to death." Mildred chuckled. "Since a girl has only so much skin, you're a bit limited how to use the cane and the whip on her. But let's say you'd do well to use what skin she's got. Henry Ross is going to be looking for the marks. It goes without saying that you'll keep her naked."

"I wish you'd give the job to some other girl, or do it yourself."

"Look, sweetheart, what I don't see, I really don't have to know. If you want to get a bit of help with thrashing those parts of Bea Maxwell that embarrass you, go ahead. I'll never know. But don't you ever dare allow her within a mile of escape."

"How could I? I can't escape myself, let along help somebody else. She'll probably think of something. In the meantime, Margo, there's something you can do for me."

Margo knew instantly. This was a return to duty with a vengeance. Without concern, she asked, "Here or in the bedroom?"

"What the son of a bitch did to me has made a fix in my mind," Mildred mused pensively. "I can see how people get hung up on something like that. But I constantly see you there between my legs, your hands helpless behind your back and your busy little mouth eating away at me as though you hadn't had food in a week. I'm going to recreate that, with just one or two small changes."

"I would have thought that would have been hateful to you. Not me, of course, but what he did to you while I was… well, doing what I was told. It will be different this time, sweetheart. To begin with, your hands won't be cuffed behind. They'll be cuffed in front, and it will be I who hold the whip and use it." Mildred laughed a full mated exhalation of amusement. "I'll use it to spur you on to greater effort and to keep you on the bit. An amusing variation, don't you think?"

"Oh, Mildred, I'm not a bit sure."

"I'm still headmistress. Henry didn't say a thing about equality." The headmistress smiled fondly. "Are you going to make me pull rank?"

It all seemed natural, inevitable, and exciting. Once more, Margo was imbued with the sense of coming home. In the presence of this woman, Henry Ross was fading from her mind. Margo knew herself terribly torn between two loyalties and saw herself as a welding inasmuch as when in the presence of one, she forgot the other. But when she threw aside the coverings from her nakedness and held out her arms for the handcuffs she could not deny a tremendous thrill and a sudden concupiscence. Mildred was already nude and panting. She held a whip Margo had not seen before, a clever little horror of several thongs. She realized it was designed to excite them both. She kneeled between the well-spread thighs raised her joined hands to grasp Mildred's still-welted flesh and began her ministrations avidly. The lash swept down to sear one of her bottom cheeks. She squealed into Mildred's flesh and worked harder than before. Her own femaleness brilliantly aflame. The little whip was pure magic.

Bea Maxwell was a sorry sight. Someone had crossed her wrists behind her back and bound them tight and then performed the same unkind service with her ankles. She was quite helpless and could only flounder around like a fish out of water. She'd obviously been doing exactly that, for she was flushed and moist and angry. She viewed Margo through the bars with a mixture of thankfulness and resentment. Her first words reminded Margo of herself once long ago.