decision’s bad.'
'So I have to be whipped regularly?'
'That’s right, love.'
Their eyes met. They laughed.
'I still think I can be a maverllous slave girl wothout looking like a zebra or a tiger all the time.' She twinled at him. 'This morning, for instance. It seemed quite natural to me to pose and ask you to whip me for poor Mabel’s benefit. I don’t think I was acting. I wanted to. I did it well, didn’t I?'
'Granted, but for just one stroke. And remember, you got a bang out of it personally. Supposing it had been for ten or twenty, would you have been quite so spontanuous?'
Dorinda considered. 'I really don’t know the answer to that,' she admitted.
'Ah!' said her master triumphantly. 'That’s what this afternoon is all about.'
She made gesture of bafflement with her chained hands. Then accepted the small key.
'Take’m off, darling. The clothes too, of course.'
Dorinda blushed. She was very concious of the scarlet. She knew Mark was too. 'You only let me wear clothes so I feel this rediculous shame every time I have to take them off in front of you,' she accused.
'Of course. Besides, you do it so damn well. And never underrate the view when you’ve done. By the way, would you like your hair shaved the way Terry has hers?'
'Good heavens. Have I blushed all the way down there?' She looked down at herself, then back at him. 'Shave me any way you like, kind sir,' she said.
Mark ahd brought a cord. He tied her arms behind her back, then threw the rest over the crosspiece. 'I’ll lift you,' he explained. 'Youll slip your arms over the crosspiece and let your arms hang down over the other side.'
He backed her against the post and kissed her soundly. She melted instantly in a way almost frightening. So great was her response that, when their lips parted, Mark placed his finger over hers. 'Silence, little slave.' He grinned down at her. 'Because we both enjoyed that, you are about to ask me not tot do what I’m going to do, right?'
Dorinda was furious. He could read her like a book. She would never win with him. But, prudently, she contented herself with grinning back and saying: 'Yes, master.' With what she hoped was appropriate humility.
Mark lifted her high with ease. She resolved never to provoke a test of strength with him. She managed to get her arms as he had directed, then felt him drag them down and back with the cord in one hand while he held her in position with his other arm. Shifting her to suit his design, he pulled until her shoulders were well back over the cross. Gently then, he let her down and bound the cord round her tummy and the post while she gasped in pain as her underarms and shoulders took her weight. Her searching toes would never get closer than six inches from the ground. No matter how she striggled she would hang. Even at the beginning the pain was excruciating. She had no hpe that it would lessen.
The master stepped back and examined his prize. 'You are very beautiful,' he said, almost with awe.
'I hurt. Oh, master…'
'I can’t be whipping you all the time, darling,' Mark said reasonably. 'Up to a point stripes on a girl’s skin are beautiful. But too many ruin the effect. Fortunately there are all sorts of delightful things I can do to keep you in a proper frame of mind.'
'This isn’t delightful.'
'Depends on your poinjt of view, love. Right now you are as lovely a sight as I have ever seen.'
'I don’t feel lovely.'
'You wouldn’t be quibbling, would you?'
Dorinda wanted to cry. She was sure he could have no idea how she hurt. She probably did look exceedingly attractive in her strained suffering. But she was beginning to remember the whip almost with nostalgia. Her breath was coming irregular in panting gasps. It took her all her oncentration to keep back the moans and cries. No doubt they would come.
'No master. But… but… I can’t stand it!'
Mark paid no attention but sat comfortable leaning against a tree. 'I could have made it much worse for you by using the handcuffs,' he consoled.
'How long must I hang like this?' She made her voice pitiful.
'Oh, I don’t know,' he drawled offhandedly. 'The afternoon, I suppose.'
The bound girl moaned.
'I’ll sit here and gloat.'
Dorinda wept.
'This whole business of training you is intriguing,' Mark admitted ruminatively. 'Once we have accepted the premise that I’m a right bastard the rest follows naturally. Sets the old concience aside too. I’m a bit worried that you may hate me. These sessions when you come starkly face to face with your new condition have to be a bit traumatic. But I’ve studied Terry. If she’s a sample, girls must be damn resilient.'
'Mabel will hate you,' his victim gasped.
'Well? What gave rise to that thought, darling? I’d forgotten Mabel.' Dorinda wished she’d kept quiet. She knew perfectly well hwat had promted the outburst. But she was not going to say so. 'You can’t expect her to enjoy it… Master,' she offered lamely. Then gasped with definite sincerity. 'I’m not.'
'Bit of feminine thinking in there somewhere, I suspect. But we’ll let it pass. By the way, dear girl, I owe you an apology. With Mabel showing up on schedule, you must have been telling the truth. I mean about good old Mike or whatever his name is.'
'Of course I was telling the truth! Anyone but an id…. Oh gee! I’m sorry, master.'
'Idiot was the words, no doubt.' Mark’s tone was caustic. 'Weren’t you the girl who suggested that training is superpluous?'
'I’m sorry. Honest I am, master. But I hurt so damn bad I can’t think straight. And anyway, you… Anyone looking at me would have to know I’m not Mabel’s sort. Where does your amateur kidnapper shanghai his victims?'
Mark chuckled. 'I really don’t know. Some cheap pub, probably. I didn’t give him specs to follow – apart from her being easy on the eye, of course. Couldn’t expect a product of Vasar or Girton. Would have been nice perhaps. You know: the haughty maiden brought low. But with them there’d be repercussions…'
'How d’you know there aren’t with me?'
'If there are any, they’ll be on Mr. Mike’s plate, not mine. And that reminds me. Since my favorite slave was telling the truth I suppose the dear old boy will show up looking for you one of these days. What do you suggest?'
'Don’t you give me to him?'
Mark was genuinly hurt. 'You don’t suppose…?'
'Oh again,' Dorinda wailed. 'Oh master… It’s hanging on this damn thing. I don’t seem able to behave. I say anything wrong.'
'Much the same as ‘in vino veritas’ I suppose. You weren’t thinking of asking me to let down?'
'No master.'
'You were, y’know. But what shall we do with your boyfriend?'
'He’s not mu boyfriend! He’s what you English call a rooter. He more or less kidnapped me. I suspect he’s bound to come up to the house looking. You can make up a story for him. Ohh master, this hurts
…'
'You are bearing it with great fortitude, dear girl. I can almost see the character build.'
'Don’t joke. It’s awful. Please whip me instead.'
Mark appeared to consider. 'You sound terribly wistful, darling. Perhaps I should do as you suggest. It did occur to me that your present position is ideally suited to what you have in mind. What say I give you some nice round number, then let you down?'
'No!!'
'But you asked.'
'Not on my front! Oh please, don’t ever whip my front. I’ll try and shut up and behave.' Dorinda was frightened.
'Tell you what, puppet. Damned unsporting of me to sit and watch you suffer. No help in your time of trial, eh?
