F Campbell - Margo

"Hold it! Hold it!" Henry raised an admonishing hand. He was becoming more and more the master by the minute.

Margo began to feel sorry for the woman who remained dressed and probably faced the ordeal of her life. She and Mildred could offer no aid whatsoever. Norma Boulter was entirely at the mercy of the male.

"I mentioned something, Norma. You appear to have failed to listen."

"Oh, I heard all right. But, Henry, that's pure nonsense. I don't like to be spoken to in that fashion before subordinates."

Henry Ross positively glowed. "Nonetheless, I can give you an option. Will you quietly remove all your clothes or must I do it for you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. If you're going to talk such nonsense, I will call the whole deal off and leave immediately."

"You can't leave immediately. All the doors are locked. You're going to have to see this one through, Norma. Come along now – strip or be stripped!"

"That is not a question worth answering. If you think for one minute I'm going to take off my clothes to amuse you."

"I do indeed think exactly that. But perhaps I should point out to you, my dear, the advantages of you removing your clothes yourself. If I remove them, they are likely to get badly torn, and they are all you'll have to wear after I've had the pleasure of giving you the thrashing I have just described." He grinned amiably and continued. "I prefer to strip you myself – really, I do. I mean, what man wouldn't? But we do have to be practical about these things. I don't want to send you home naked or in rags."

Margo's heart bled for the feminine tycoon. Never in her life had Norma Boulter faced so terrible a prospect, or been so helpless in dealing with it. But the fully clothed woman would not surrender easily.

Norma's tone was almost derisive.

"You thrash me! You have to be nuts. I won't say you're not physically able. You are. But when I get back into circulation, I'll tear you and your sad little corporation to shreds."

Her words were brave, but her hand went defensively to the neck of her dress. She surveyed the two helpless nudities and no doubt saw herself in similar plight. But she had courage.

"You think you can subdue me, and maybe you can. But don't be too sure of it. I'm not a weakling, you know. I'll go for your eyes!"

"In this scene, I am the dastardly Desmond. I leave no act unfouled."

Henry Ross laughed joyously at the intent concern upon his victim's face.

"After I have given you the thrashing of your life and I do realize it is probably the only one you've ever had I will give you an alternative. I can either start to thrash you a second time all over again, and I do mean all over. Or you can sign the documents by which I gain possession and control."

"I'm sure this is not the first time a piece of property has not changed hands under similar circumstances."

"You son of a bitch!"

For the first time, it was evident that Norma Boulter was taking the proposition seriously. She was glaring at her captor in disbelief. "You've this whole thing figured, haven't you?"

"But the signature you obtain will not bold up in court. I'll drag you through all the mud there is. Now unlock the door."

"All right. I assure you, Norma, neither of these delicious creatures will say a word against me in court or anywhere else, for that matter. They are my property, body and soul."

"Bullshit. You sure do fancy yourself. I'll admit you're a handsome bastard, and the girls do fall for you, but I'm no teenager."

"You are of the marrying age. In fact, it is high time you got yourself a husband. I have been considering you as a wife for some time, and now, perhaps, after I have you properly subdued."

The chair Norma threw at her tormentor was easily grasped and tossed aside. While she sought more ammunition, her wrist was grasped in a firm male hand. She was swung around, and another male hand sought the fastenings of her dress. Undaunted in the ensuing struggle, she contrived to give wounds with her spike heels for as long as she retained them. But she was flipped over on her back, and both shoes were removed with a gesture as contemptuous as the male could contrive.

Her panties followed. In the space of a couple of minutes, the mistress of the Boulter empire was on the floor, totally naked, breasts heaving, eyes glaring and hands beating ineffectually upon the rug, while her right foot was held comfortably in the air by male hands. The owner of the male hands was not even panting. Henry Ross was calm and completely collected, his voice suave.

"You see, Norma, the old battle between the sexes. The male will always win if he's got the guts. You girls don't have a chance. I am now going to suspend you in the same manner as I have Margo. I could immobilize you more totally, but I want to see you struggle, writhe, and kick. I want you to know that whichever way you turn, the cane or the whip will be waiting. You're going to find this a remarkable experience."

"You sound like a Victorian villain." Norma tried to roll this way or that, kicking ineffectually with her free foot. "If you think I'm going to stay still while you tie my hands, you've got another thing coming."

The man wasted no words. From his pocket, he drew the shining steel Margo knew so well. He tossed the handcuffs on the writhing belly of his victim.

Margo wondered if he would keep such a horrific threat. Norma wondered too, but a steadily increasing pressure on her small toe gave no time for speculation. She yelped in dismay and cried demandingly.

"Stop it! Oh, stop it! Damn it, you're hurting me!"

"It will hurt much more if it begins to break."

The distraught female on the floor sought for and found the shining steel. She grasped the handcuffs much as she might have grasped a life buoy in a ship wreck. Fumbling, she encircled her left wrist. She clicked it loosely closed and then complained.

"I can't possibly do the other."

The master's motions were swift and deadly. He released the foot and stooped to grasp the shining steel with which his victim was making ineffectual motions. Dragging up the partially imprisoned hand, he completed the necessary clicking motions to make the steel band tight on Norma's left wrist. But to encircle its twin, it was necessary for hint to kneel on the struggling female torso to gain the necessary control. But the end was predestined. When he stepped back from the recumbent female, Norma Boulter was looking in mute wonderment at joined hands, which she tugged and twisted as though to assure herself that what she beheld was true. Dazed, she got to her feet, rearranged her hair with hands forced to work in unison. Then she surveyed the impossible feminine task of covering two breasts and a patch of pubic hair with what was essentially only one hand. She was still harping on her favorite theme.

"Henry Ross, you're going to be so damn sorry for this. I'll break you to bits!"

"In the meantime, perhaps you'll be kind enough to come over here."

Henry Ross waved an inviting hand at a dangling rope and hook, its purpose all too clear.

"Damn you! You surely don't imagine I'm going to neatly walk over there and stick my hands in that damn hook, do you? It was a dirty rotten trick you got these handcuffs on me! I've never heard of such a thing."

"Care for another tussle, Norma?"

Margo recognized the dilemma all too well. The eternal confrontation with male physical superiority was probably the most frustrating part of being female. It was do damned unfair.

The president of Boulter Inc. was evidently considering options in the same way she might have done behind the desk at her office. If she fought, she would lose.

She muttered savagely, "I hope you feel decently ashamed of what you are doing, Henry Ross. You're behaving like a real bastard!"