F Campbell - Margo

Again, there was a fresh feeling in the room. Dominance had passed from the owner of Rossland to his first lieutenant. True, he had punished her on occasion, but was now intrigued by her assumption of authority and Norma Boulter's fear of it. Here was a delightful contest between social structures. Here was punishment of a prestige. He would quietly retire to the sidelines and join Margo in her role as audience.

Without dramatic emphasis, she said, "Miss Boulter, I want you to raise your leg. Get your right leg as high as you can hold it while I cane what lies beneath." She chuckled. "I won't keep you long."

Norma did not obey. As she looked back over a bare helpless shoulder to where her tormentors were regarding her with studied interest. Her voice was bitter.

"You are a bunch of bastards! If you had a grain of sense, you'd let me go right now. If either of you do what you're talking about, I'll bring your whole world tumbling around your ears." Her voice became tremulous. "Please let me go. Please, please, please."

Mildred circled the helpless and priceless nudity. She selected her spot and slashed it with a wicked cut which evoked from Miss Boulter a screech of anguish. Her audience watching her writhing, kicking, and contorting. The performance seemed likely to last for a very long time.

Margo wished she was anywhere but where she was. It would be easy for her to hate all three of the others in the room. She had been thrashed by each and possessed by all. She wondered if, given the chance, she would choose any one of them as mater or mistress. She knew that her only chance to return to dignity would be to accept enslavement to one. Ross and the woman being thrashed were immensely wealthy and would give her the good life. It would be a good life in chains or cords, but would he ripe, lush, and rich. On the other hand, she had felt for Mildred a warmth of affection unsuspected since she had come to Rossland. Stripped and bound, Mildred had emerged as a far young and more desirable female then attired severely as headmistress of a school for delinquent maidens. Margo remembered the feel of Mildred's arms and heat engendered by Mildred's whip. But just the same, she wished that the present proceedings would be brought to an end. She saw no sense in this endless procession of punishments. She had come to despise Rossland and its owner. She saw it now as prison and the girls who wore its chains as a lost legion of the underprivileged. Even though they came from wealthy homes, their lives had been diminished by their subservience and the carnal lust of Henry Ross. Margo's whole being was in revolt against an outrage the price of which she had once been prepared to pay.

But what did opinions matter! Margo looked up the length of her pinioned arms, at the cold clasp of steel upon her wrists. The handcuffs would ensure her loyalty to the power that held her in its grasp. Henry Ross would exact his pound of flesh. It seemed unlikely that Norma Boulter could effectively counter his male strength. The woman stood now, naked and flinching before the cane which wielded either by Mildred or the master would hurt cruelly. By now Norma would be wondering about a return to freedom. It might never happen. But whatever her future fate, the whipping of Norma proceeded without further delay.

Norma had given up her pretense of dignity or authority. In theory, she retained them both. That is, if she could regain her freedom. She had used them in her threats, but now pleaded solely because she as a woman to be loved, not whipped.

Mildred again selected the portion of femininity which was most vulnerable and struck it one more blow.

"No, don't do that! You rotten bitch! Stop hitting me that way." The urgent female plea turned to the male. "Henry, stop her. Stop her before she does me serious injury. She's capable of anything. Henry, I beg you."

"The matter of the transfers, Norma?"

"Yes, I'll sign them. But only if you promise me that this punishment will stop."

"No conditions, Norma. You will sign them when you are ready and you will take the consequences. You will have to rely upon my tolerance and mercy for the cessation of your punishment. I make no promises."

"All right. But please stop long enough for us to talk and forms to sign the papers. Damn it, Henry, once you've got the papers, what else do you want of me?"

"A good question, my dear. In the end, a man always wants a woman's body. I think that, along with the signing of the documents, I will insist that you plead with me to take you to my bed and use you in anyway I please."

"That's simply a rotten humiliation." Norma tugged uselessly at her bonds and looked at the females present for support. "Very well, I'll do anything you want, just as long as it brings this torture to an end. Good good, man, you're getting everything on a plate! What more do you want?"

It was a solemn proceeding. Leg irons were locked upon the female tycoon's slender ankles. A collar was locked upon her neck, and from it a tether of chain secured her to the wall. Her hands were then freed. Margo watched, fascinated.

"You have nothing more to say about anything, Norma." Henry Ross was dispassionate. "As an additional humiliation, I now instruct you to bend over and touch your toes and request Miss Harridance to cane your bottom. For a few minutes, I want to see you as a naughty school girl receiving her just desserts."

"I absolutely refuse. Henry, you're going too far. You're taxing me beyond tolerance. Very well, dear, in that case, we will return you to your former position."

"No, stop! Very well, I'll do it. But I want you both to know?"

Margo watched, feeling every motion and every indignity. She had been there herself and knew what it was like. Norma slowly and obviously hating everything she did took a suitable position and bent down and touched her toes with reaching fingertips.

"Very well, Miss Harridance. Will you be kind enough to cane my bottom as if I were a little girl in school?"

It was cruelly erotic, wickedly potent with feeling. Margo felt her heat generating in vivid waves. She had ceased to care about her vulnerability and handcuffed wrists. Her whole attention was devoted to the tableau and what was about to be done.

Sensing the master's wish, Mildred played her role to perfection.

"Yes, dear girl. I will punish you as you ask. You will receive six hard strokes and you will thank me for each and request the next. If you break the post or indulge in foolish utterances, we will start your punishment over again. Do you understand?"

Norma understood. She cast a glance of pure hatred at Henry Ross. She lifted a helpless head in Margo's direction. Before taking up the hated position, she paused and looked at Mildred long enough to give the woman time to come to her defense. But there was no defense. Abjectly, Norma bent forward and touched her toes, cut and burned by the singing cane she spoke woodenly.

"Thank you, Miss Harridance. Please cane me again."

The strokes went on and on. It seemed as though there were not six but six hundred. If she but knew it, Norma Boulter was truly magnificent. She broke no pose, conceding only an occasional, bent knee and a weaving of wounded hips. Her responses were instant and precise. She was delivering unto the man and the woman the full dues of her new penitence. She was doing it without any assurance of release or the cessation of her pain. But after the sixth stroke had scorched her flesh and she had said her thanks, she was told to rise and give gracious permission to rub the weals implanted on her skin. When she realized the intense pleasure these childish emotions of comfort to the flesh provided both Mildred Harridance and Henry Ross with satisfaction. She stopped and allowed her arms to hang listless from her sides. The chain for the collar around her neck hung in a long loop toward the wall. She had never tested it.