F Campbell - Margo

Hating every motion, she obeyed the the command, and a moment later, stood with hands high above her head, the metal bracelets cutting cruelly into her wrists. Her face was a study in shocked dismay and disdain.

Henry Ross stepped back to view his prize. It was indeed worth viewing. Norma Boulter, without her clothes, was an immensely attractive piece of female. Every bit of her was in its proper place and most abundantly proportioned. However, her tummy was still taut as in youth, and now in her stressful and strained posture with arms held high, her rib cage pronounced itself in company with her agitated breasts. She was raising a still-free foot up and down, as though in search of suitable anchorage upon the floor. She had not been suspended, but the tension was tight enough to make her long for a firmer foothold upon the rug.

"You rotten son of a bitch! I'll have your guts for garters over this!"

"There is another possibility. Seeing you naked as you now are reminds me you're not a bad property yourself. I am quite seriously considering the project of marrying you."

"Drop dead!"

"I have been thinking of marrying Margo."

"That little snippet!" Norma stared at him in rage. "You mean you prefer an immature little package of tits and twat to me? All she's good for is bottom-caning."

Margo was prepared to make allowances, but felt she had been unkindly described. It was with feminine enjoyment of which she was partly ashamed that she observed Henry Ross select the cane and flex it appreciatively between two strong hands.

Other feminine eyes were focused on it too in a cringing interest they could not control.

"I take it you reject my proposal?" he inquired amiably. Norma Boulter was magnificent in a role she could not win. Her voice was icily contemptuous.

"I suppose I get a double of everything if I tell you I wouldn't marry you if you were the only man?"

"Naturally."

"Go ahead and do it then – and be damned with you!"

"You'd probably make a rotten wife anyway, and I'm sure I'll enjoy Margo much more." Henry's voice was reflective. "And she's damn good in bed."

"How do you know I'm not?" Norma's question was pure feminine outrage. "If you're talking about a girl being impaled."

"Impaled! What a delightful way of describing a piece of tail." Henry appeared amused. "But I like it. In fact, I may impale you as one of the fringe benefits of this evening's entertainment."

As though for a last resort plea, the naked, suspended woman turned to the two females who must watch what was taking place.

"Look, can't either of you or both of you say something to this idiot to change his mind? Can't you stop him in this idiocy?"

The two fastened females exchanged frustrated glances. They shrugged. They looked at the hopeful woman in a manner to tell her all too clearly of their helplessness.

Henry Ross grinned and shrugged. Making gestures to encompass both his audience and the woman he was about to cane.

"And now, my dear Norma," he suggested sweetly, "if you will forgive me another Victorianism, I will simply ask if you are now ready to have your bottom caned."

There was no answer. None was expected. The bound businesswoman glared in icy disdain, and Margo, watching, wondered if she had any concept of the agony she was about to endure. Quite probably, she was passing it off in her own mind as a childish piece of nonsense, a carry-over from school days long past.

There was now alive in the room a fresh atmosphere. There had been indeed, up until now, a leisurely talking, mouth-watering word play. This was done. Without warning, Henry Ross swung on the ball of one foot, his cane circled in a wide arc and planted itself on the posterior of Boulter Inc. and all its subsidiaries. It was a most satisfying thunk. It caused Norma Boulter to stiffen in pure horror and dismay, the pain being far greater than she had imagined causing the immobility of shock.

Margo shifted uneasily in her own bonds. She knew all too well the sights, sounds, and feel of what was taking place. She was willing to believe a sound thrashing would do Norma ho harm. It never did any harm to bring the mighty low, but nonetheless, she would herself suffer vicariously the agony of each stroke. She looked at the features of an entranced Miss Harridance, but they registered only intense interest and satisfaction.

Henry Ross again drew his arm back. The second time the noble, untouched flesh of the feminine tycoon accepted the weal and the scarlet. When she regained her breath, she wasted no words.

"Henry, stop this! You can't possibly realize the appalling pain you are now causing me. It's unbearable. I'd absolutely no idea, and I'm sure you haven't either. Stop this whole affair before it goes too far."

The third stroke followed as does the night the day. It brought Norma into full awareness of her plight. This time there were no heroics about keeping silent or keeping still, she did neither. Her sounds and motions had an appreciative audience of three. By the time the strokes had reached ten and showed no sign of stopping, she spoke.

"Very well, Henry Ross. I accept your proposal of marriage. Please unfasten me now."

Miss Harridance laughed. Henry Ross himself grinned and provided a chuckle Margo kept silent. She felt herself redundant to this whole affair.

"Too late, my dear," Henry Ross said pleasantly. "You should have said yes when you had the chance. We are now approaching the halfway mark in your punishment, and it would be a pity to stop." His voice was deliberately mocking. "I'm sure, in years to come, the immense value of what you are now receiving will make a new woman of you. And remember, after the bottom comes the back."

"I can't stand anymore. I've had enough." Norma's voice was leaden with defeat. "What you are doing tome is pure torture – no girl could possibly endure it."

"Margo has. Ask her."

The question was never asked. Henry Ross had a fresh idea.

"Margo dear child, would it please you to take this cane and administer the rest of Miss Boulter's punishment?" he asked suavely.

Margo was horrified. She twisted awkwardly against her wrists and said uncertainly, "I'd rather not, if you don't mind, sir."

"I'll do it." Miss Harridance's voice rang out loud and clear. "If you want to see a thrashed female, let me loose."

There was a stunned silence, until Henry Ross ejaculated, "Why in the devil didn't I think of that? You're the obvious person. Just one moment, while I get you free."

"Don't you dare!" Norma Boulter's voice was more than ever concerned. "I don't want to be thrashed by one of your lackeys. Besides, this woman is far too experienced in such matters – she'll half kill me."

"No, she won't, her very experience is your protection. But I do think she may be aware of certain little nooks and crannies on your person that will receive the attention of the cane in a manner superior to my own."

There was little else to say. Three pairs of eyes anxiously watched as the iron wrists of Miss Harridance were freed and stood naked, rubbing the chafe marks on her wrists. But there was no time to be lost. She accepted the yellow length of cane with an obvious and immense satisfaction. Purpose radiated from her in waves. She advanced to the woman to be whipped, tilted her chin, and asked, "So I'm a lackey, am I? So I don't rate – I'm your inferior, Miss Boulter?" She spat the ward out in high disdain. "We'll now see about that."

Mildred Harridance was a past mistress in the art of correction delinquent females. That the strung-up nakedness before her now was in no way a delinquent made no difference. It was a more mature and satisfying nudity than she had been accustomed to. She drew back her arm with relish, measuring her distance.

The thunk of cane and flesh, and the scream it evoked were almost simultaneous. Margo flinched. Norma tugged at metal circlets on her wrists and kicked wildly at nothing with free feet. On her face was a mixed expression pain and anger. At the back of Margo's mind, there hovered this query about marriage. Henry Ross seemed all too anxious to bandy the possibility before both her own nose and that of the punished woman. He evidently saw it as both punishment and reward. Norma and Ross deserved each other. A marriage between them might not last long, but it would be full of the most graphic storms. She could well imagine Ross exerting his male strength again and again to bring his wife to her knees until Norma would give up the unequal fight and divorce him. But by then, she would be different woman, her life changed in ways Margo knew all too well. Margo was willing to concede she was not the girl who had first entered slavery.