She slumped to the floor as though her bones were broken. Her moans and twistings were her body’s outrage at what had been done to it. Mark watched, amused. He had watched his sister more times than he could remember. Even when Terry pleaded for the whip it mostly ended thus, a beautfiully erotic finale. She had admitted readily enough, that even as she writhed and groaned she savoured her greatest happiness in the knowledge that her ordeal was past and that she acquitted herself well. Dorinda’s travail must continue.
'Devise a stroke that will shame you. Ask for it.'
She dared not ponder, but did the first demanding act that came to mind. Taking a wanton stance, she placed one foot upon the wooden chest, spreading the other wode. Cuffed wirsts behind her neck she faced he master. 'The whip… Up underneath, please,' she managed tremulously.
Mark was enraptured. The lash he gave her was cunning and cruel. It evoked from his slave girl an artistry of agonay. He knew himself a very lucky man.
For Dorinda, it was a long afternoon.
CHAPTER 2
Kyrexos was a delightful island. Dorinda could see most of her captor’s small kingdom from the rock on which she sat with Terry. The sun was warm. For the moment her condition was charmingly relaxed.
'Nicer than that room with the rope, love?' Terry asked shrewdly.
'Calm before the storm?' Dorinda asked with frank suspicion.
The younger girl giggled. 'The dear boy really laced into you. You’re a beautiful zebra. Like the swimsuit?'
'Pure haven. I’m tired of looking down and seeing breasts and hair. Sweet of you to let me wear it.'
'Doesn’t hide all that much, darling. But the little belt effect makes it handy to hang your handcuffs and that bit of cord. I hate carrying things. I like being naked.'
'Why the bokini then?'
'Can’t very well have the mistress naked and the slave clothed, can we?'
'You’d better brief me a bit,' Dorinda suggested diffidently. 'I’m still a novice, y’knnow. Mark really made me come to heel yesterday. Are you going to do that too? Should I call you ‘mistress’?'
Terry giggled. 'You’ll have to play me by ear. I’m a butterfly. Sometimes I’ll be very brutal to you, darling. Quite often I’ll love you to bits.' She directed a puckish grin at her captive. 'Tru to remember, love. Little Terry’s never been a mistress or had a slave girl to play with. It’s been me that’s been the slave girl. If you think Mark has made you come to heel, I can tell you a few stories. You are no more a zebra than I often am.'
'Why do you put up with it?'
'I love it, silly. You know I do. Mark’s told you. I’m a natural born slave girl. But only for Mark.'
'Aren’t you going to be jealous?' Dorinda asked mischieviously. 'Now I’ll get all the whippings and you’ll be home free.'
'I’m a bit curious to see how he does with both of us,' Terry’s eyes sparked with a sudden thought. 'If I feel neglected I can always make you whip me.' She giggled. 'Would you like that?'
Dorinda was about to affirm that after yesterday she would not wish a whipping on a dog, when there dirfted into her inward vision a delectable vision of a naked Terry bent well over and herself lustily caning a pert round bottom. 'I’m afraid I’d love to,' she admitted honestly. 'Good heavens, this is contagious!'
Whilst not wanting to be burdened with things to carry, the newly elevated mistress had ostentatiously brought along on their stroll a long, slender crop with which she neatly decapitated any convenient growth along their path. Her slave girl had been constantly aware of it. Dorinda was suddenly horrified to find the wicked length now placed in her hand.
'Whip my bottom, darling, until I tell you to stop.'
Joyously the younger girl stepped out of the skimpy fabric that had hugged her hips, selected her spot, then bent and garsped her ankles. Dorinda had never seen a girl’s btoom more enticingly offered. She felt herself blush. A bringht and expectant eye was watching her with avid amusement. 'Scared, aren’t you?' the young voice taunted.
Dorinda felt herslef adrift. But knew this moment in life to be lived vividly while it lasted. With a tremendous sense of release she swung the crop in a slahing arc and both felt and heard it sink into the puppy cheeks with a sensual thrill such as she had never before known. She watched, fascinated, as the red weal formed and became a ridge of scarlet. The punished girl held her pose heroically, but gasped with heaving breasts. The right eye discretely looked alsewhere. Enthralled with sudden power, Dorinda was readying herself for the next blow…
'Stop!'
Had the idol feet of clay? Dorinda was disappointed.
'Damn,' Terry straightened up chagrined.
'Damn and double damn!' she repeated. Turning, she donned her briefs. 'I’m not chicken, y’know!' she affirmed savagely. 'I just thought of something.'
Dorinda waited and wondered.
Terry pushed the fabric off her hips and offered her bottom again for view. 'I say, darling. I’ll bet it’s a real corker of a mark?'
Dorinda affirmed it was.
'I’ll have to keep these damn things on.' Terry pulled the scanty protection about her loins. She looked at her companion in sudden appeal. 'I should have thought. Mark will probably give me hell. He’ll say I’ve broken his pattern with you. I’m supposed to whip you, not you me.'
Dorinda was intrigued by the maiden dolor. 'Why so concerned?' she langhed. 'The worst he’ll do to you is whip you some more. You adore it. So why worry?'
'I don’t adore it the way he does it when he wants to teach me a lesson.' Terry grinned ruefully. 'I’m not made of leather. Besides, it might not be the whip. Mark thinks of the damndest things.'
The puzzled slave girl was prevented from asking hwat ‘the damndest things’ were by her mistress’s evanescent mood reverting to her normal sunshine exuberance. 'Darling! I’ve just thought… The absolutely most gorgeous thing to do to you. Come on. I’ll race you.'
How good it was to run. As she spen in persuit, Dorinda could not forbear the speculation that it should be possible for her to overpower the younger girl and make her captive with the handcuffs in her belt. The thought was plausable. But to what end? The island would defeat her. Retribution would probably be too awful to contemplate. Besides, she liked the youngster. Terry would be easy to love…
It was a small secluded spot among sparse trees, one of which had remained standing in the little clearing as though forgotten when its fellows had gone. Within minutes Dorinda found herself divested of her swim suit and tightly tied to the trunk. Terry kissed her excitedly and dashed off in the direction of the house.
The puzzled girl tested her bonds. Good use had been made of the scraps she had been made to carry. Her waist was cinched tight by a single strand of cord. It hurt. Her legs were seperated, one on each side of the bole. They, too, were immobilized by single circlets which were very tight indeed and hurt as much as the waistband. Her wirsts were handcuffed at the rear. She could wriggle her shoulders and toss her head. That was all. A familiar sense of vulnerability enveloped her. Ruefully she glanced down at what she could see of herself. Sure enough: breasts and pubic hair! She supposed she had better get used to it. She was only mildly concerned about her immediate situation.
When a flushed and obviously highly amused girl returned with a parcel, her captive watched perplexed as busy fingers hastely strewed a white powder on the bare rock. Sugar… salt? It could be anything. But ths ebeacme instantly and intimately concerned when the giggling girl opened the lips of the captive sex and pushed within the secret orrifice several gobs of honey and then annointed the hairy triangle with the sticky stuff so that the whole area bore a half inch of the sweet. 'Don’t worry darling. Lots of room in there… at least if it’s anything like mine.' Chuckling, as at some funny joke, she retired with her her paper back and seated herself on a smooth rock, about forty feet away.
'What’s this for?' the prisoner felt entitled to ask.
'No questions, darling,' Terry admonished. 'If you insist on asking, I’ll whip you.'
Dorinda did not insist. But her mind was active. She could not fail to note that the white stuff on the ground
