F Campbell - Margo

Whoever had bound the wrists of the unhappy maiden being punished had done a most excellent job. Margo could not avoid constant glances at the crossed wrists and the neatly bedded cords within their skin. They were tight enough that Emaline had given up any hope she may have cherished in freeing her hands. She allowed them to hang passively at her back without the twistings and turnings so common among maidens thus secured. She was blushing furiously and could not avoid constant glances down at the pins she could not dislodge. They tended to be bouncy and to vibrate with the least motion. She had evidently been told to stand still and stick out her chest for better effect. She obeyed this precept with noble but cheerful fortitude.

Margo had rarely punished a girl. She was well aware of the difficulty of maintaining authority among a group of girls when they were well aware the mistress herself was subject to the same or even worse penalties than they. She tested their credulity and tolerance as little as possible. However, she became well aware that one among her class was mocking and making sport of poor Emaline's condition. It was being done by impertinent caricatures with her own frontal equipment and by facial expressions and by the sticking out of a wet, pink tongue.

It was not long before the jokester was stealing the attention of the class and causing Emaline to be doubly aware of herself. In her own disturbed mood, Margo was irritated enough to call a halt.

"Sharon, out to the front, if you please."

Sharon was already in disfavor. She was naked, her feet shackled, and she made a familiar clatter when she walked. But she was an exhibitionist and quite prepared to suffer some mild penalty to gain the attention of others. No doubt, like most of the inmates, she was bored.

"Sharon, be good enough to get me two clothespins for yourself and also a pair of handcuffs. Rung along." Margo made her voice as stern as she could command.

It was easy to see Sharon was pondering the wisdom of disobedience, but she shrugged indiffefently and went on her errand. It was not long before she was back, bearing her acquired items. She tried hard for a laugh by suggesting, in pretended innocence, "I don't think you'll enjoy wearing these, Miss Davis."

Sharon got the laugh. She also got another stern reproof.

"That will cost you a stroke on each hand, Sharon." Margo was suddenly proud of her ability to carry off the punishment of a girl who, in her own way, was no different from herself.

But Sharon tensed. Once more it was easy to watch the emotions flit across the young and lovely face. Should she thwart authority or take her medicine and hope for correction, and hope to capitalize on bravado! She chose the latter. Obediently obtaining a cane for her own hands, she knelt, she kissed it, and handed it to the now shy mistress. Sharon was evidently going to ham it up for all the part allowed. Again, in obedience to a stern demand, she knelt facing the class and extended her left arm to its limits, with the palm tightly offered for the cane.

Margo was suddenly aware of a racing pulse. She wished she had chosen the bottom instead of the hands. But it was too late now. No doubt, she and Sharon could carry off a single cut on each palm without too much commotion. She would measure distance with the glazed yellow cane when Emaline's pitiful voice interposed. "Please, Miss Davis, don't punish anyone on my account." She pleaded pathetically, with a sweetness all her own. "I'm sure Sharon didn't mean any harm. I expect she made fun of me because I look so silly. I feel terribly silly the way I have to stand here like this. Please don't punish her."

The plea drew a round of applause, some of it from hands joined by steel cuffs – applause to which Margo paid no heed. She felt certain her authority was at stake, and authority was an asset not lightly to be tossed away. She looked upon the open palm, and with a shameful zest, cut it in a swift sharp slash with the cane. It was quite possible Sharon had been faced with punishment of unknown duration or severity might have yielded a predictable response. But one stroke on each hand! It was a penalty worth bearing with all the evidence of unconcern. The class would be impressed, and so would this ridiculous new girl who it was fun to lampoon. With remarkable little emotion, she contrived to say, "Thank you, Miss Davis. You did that beautifully. May I offer you my other hand now?"

Margo knew that had the been a true mistress, she would have reward this impudence with a couple of extra strokes on each delinquent palm, but that was going too far. She gave Sharon the stroke on her other hand and watched the tremors and the hesitations of the punished girl. But Sharon got obediently to her feet and put her arms behind her back.

When her wounded hands were joined by steel, she once more strove for points. "Thank you, Miss Davis. You do everything so beautifully."

By this time, the clipping of pins on impudent nipples could be viewed with pleasure and without guilt. Sharon had earned what she was getting.

She might be doing what she was from simple boredom, but she was nonetheless doing it. With considerable pleasure Margo ordered, "Stick your breasts out. Take a deep breath. I want your chest way, way out." When she was obeyed, she carefully placed the hateful little demons on each trembling nipple and was obliged to give Sharon credit with accepting them with only the smallest of gasps and winces. She had her stand beside Emaline, facing the class in the same manner and then continued the lesson. When, at the end of the period, the class was dismissed and Sharon freed and sent on her way, Emaline remained. She did not ask to be relieved of the biting clips, but Margo was well aware of her most urgent wish. Laughing, and without preamble, the mistress removed the offending objects with a single swift motion which caused Emaline to yelp in agony and then indulge in a flood of gratitude tempered by concern as to what the other mistress might do or say.

"Don't worry, dear. You wore those things long enough. If the other mistress gives you any trouble, please refer her to me."

Margo was suddenly enjoying herself. She examined the bound bands, but told their owner they would have to stay as they were until whoever had tied them so neatly decided to remove the cords herself. Being bound was a fact of life at Rossland.

"But, Miss Davis, she keeps promising to do terrible things to me, and some of them I don't think are a bit proper or decent." Emaline viewed her savior with wide, beseeching eyes. "She's not a bit nice – not the way you are."

"What is she going to do to you, Emaline?"

Emaline twisted uncomfortably. It was evident that she was truly shocked and reluctant to mention some of the things involved.

"Well, really, Miss Davis. They're absolutely awful. The first thing she thought up was that I should sit on the horse. I'm not really sure how it works, but I have to sit on the edge of a plank, which is really cruel to my poor pussy, and I'm afraid it will injury it. I don't think a girl should have her pussy injured just for punishment. Do you, Miss Davis?"

"She'll probably never do it, Emaline. She's just trying to frighten you. What else was there?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be hung up by my thumbs and left there for I don't know how long. And I think I told you before she promised to whip me down there. I mean, on my… well, on my cunny, Miss Davis. That seems to me terribly rude."

"She won't do any of those terrible things, Emaline," Margo assured the tearful maiden. "Look, if you want to break the chain of command, how would it be if I punish you? I know you don't deserve any punishment, but you don't have one coming. Hut if I did something mean to you, then she won't bother. Would you like me to do something mean to you?"