Sometimes he comes back and I think it’s all over, but het just checks the cords and goes away again. I always cry when I see him disappearing for the second time. In can’t help it. I’m so lonely and hurt. So, you see, I could feel really sorry for Dorinda.
Sitting there with the collar ‘round my neck I got to thinking about Mabel and Dorinda. How different they were! I was amused about Dorinda and Mark. He doesn’t know it yet, but she’s in love with him. She isn’t completely like me, but because she wants him she has been able to take some really frightful whippings for him and come up smiling. I think he could do anything to her and it wouldn’t dent her feelings for longer than the pain lasted, probably not even that. She has it for him bad: what the Americans call the hots.
So what has happened is that the darling is a bit ahead of Mark all the time. He doesn’t need to whip her into slavery at all. She’d do anything he wanted, same as me. But poor old Mark has laid out a course and he has to follow it through, whether there’s any need or not. It’s hard luck for the poor girl. She understands and is putting up with it nobly. He’s like a chap who has prepared a speech and discovers someone else has said it first. He’s put all he’s got into the damn thing, so he reads it anyway. His audience can’t very well pack up and leave any more than Dorinda can.
But I bet when her training’s over she’ll really twist him, same as I do.
I think Mabel’s different. Mark’s ‘prescribed course’ is probably just what the doctor ordered. Whether she was on Kyrexos or somewhere else it would do her a lot of good. I was sitting happily thinking about whipping her bottom and hearing all the rude things she would yell ate me, when I’ll be darned if she didn’t saunter up cool as you please and rub me the wrong way at the start by saying in baby talk 'Is poor little puppy dog all chained up then. Puppy dog likes a bone?'
Well, I ask you. That was a time I wanted to go inside and curl. I was about to let het have a good broadside when I suddenly realised that little Terry had better mind her Ps and Qs. I was alone. I was chained and I didn’t know much about Mabel. Previously when I was helpless there had just been Mark. This was a new experience.
'Just fun and games.' I hoped it sounded casual.
Mabel looked around cautiously. 'Not some sort of trap, is it?' She must have read about the lady and the tiger.
I was about to give her some good advice. But that old chestnut about ‘giving yourself up’ sounded just too corny. While I was thinking of something more appropriate she came out with 'That guy screw you both?'
Mabel brought out the worst in me. I couldn’t resist. 'Only once a day,' I explained casually. 'But now you’re here it will make it a lot easier.'
I confirmed her worst suspicions. 'What’s this whipping business? He’s one o’ them Johns can’t get it up no other way?'
'Oh, it’s up all the time,' I said enthousiastically. 'We get whipped if we don’t put up a good show. Very demanding, Mr. Esmond is. Gets very angry if a girl just lays there.'
'Wants a bit of the action on your ass?' Mabel seemed to be on familiar ground.
I’m not that keen on four letter words. So I tried to steer in another direction. 'What are you going to do about escaping?' I asked. I had her attention there.! What the fuck can I do?' she demanded morosly. 'Bloody island. I already walked round it. You got any ideas?'
'They’d be no good to me. When I’m alone I’m always chained.'
Mabel looked at me with actual pity. Vulger but with a heart of gold perhaps. 'Look kid, can’t I get you fee somehow? Maybe if the two of us get off in the woods we can think of something.'
I was about to declare that I was soundly chained and not to waste her time… when it occured to me that here was a chance for a bit of fun. You know, one up on good old Mark. I knew where the key was. Mark always tantalizes me by leaving the key out of reach but where I can see it. Ads to his enjoyment and makes me furious.
Oh sure, this is where I should have stopped to think. Slapped dear little Terry and told her to be good. But instead of thinking of my poor old bottom and whatever other bits of me were likely to be sorry, all I could see was Mark’s face when he came back and found my collar neatly locked but me gone. I was weak. I fell. I told Mabel where to find the key.
Both of us got a bit of a giggle out of using it and then putting it back just as it had been. We also left the locked collar right in front of the dog house door. It was too cute for words. But it was the last giggle we had.
You see, as usual when I act bratty, I hadn’t thought about afterwards. It wasn’t until we had run off into the trees that I realised I’d sort of inhereted dear Mabel. I’d got my liberty and I’d got Mabel. But what was I going to do with her?
We wondered. I showed her bits of the island. Finally we sat down behind some bushes and talked. She was tired and hungry. I felt sorry for her and a bit guilty over pulling her leg. After all, when you considered all that had happened to her it was understandable she’d be a bit put out. In the end I simply told her the truth and and wanted to know if she was going to try and evade capture or whether she’d be sensible and come home with me for dinner. I was sure Mark would feed her. But by that time I wasn’t certain about dear little Terry getting anything to eat.
'And get myself chained up?' she demanded.
She was still handcuffed and I was glad she was. It put me in the catbird seat. I’d had an inspiration. Supposing I’d walk in and delivered Mabel safe and sound without a fight, my own lapse of grace might be forgiven. Honest, some of the things Mark does to me when he’s angry….
'You won’t be any more chained up than I will.'
'Wanted me to take my clothes off?'
'You won’t be any more naked than me and Dorinda.'
'That older girl had clothes on.' Mabel thought she had a point.
'She hasn’t got any on right now,' I said certainly. 'She’s being punished.'
'What the hell for?'
'Part of her training.'
'Training!?' Poor Mabel. I had to understand her incredulity.
'I’m already trained. But Dorinda isn’t. At least, Mark thinks she isn’t.' I began to realise how impossible it might be to make her understand. 'Look,' I said firmly. 'You’ll have to surrender sometime. Make a virtue of it. Come back with me now. I’ll get punished, but you won’t. Mark will be pleased with you. Butter him up a bit. Might save you a sore bottom.' I was sure she would have called it a sore ass.
Mabel balked. I got pankicky. 'Alright, if you won’t let me help you, then I’m going back and lock myself in the collar again. No sense getting punished for nothing.'
She wouldn’t come. So I left her there and ran like blazes. I’m sure you can guess what I found.
The key was gone!
Well, I’d been whipped before and I’d be whipped again. Little Terry had had her fun. Now she would pay for it. I had turned disconsolately toward the house when I got another inspiration. It was worth a try. Once more I ran. At least I was getting excersize. Mabel was still there. She looked sad and forlorne.
I threw myself down beside her, put my head in her lap and burst into tears… I’m very good with the tears bit. Mark nearly always falls for it. I told her my plight and wailed that I was scared. But that if only she would come home with me I was sure I wouldn’t be punished too badly if she explained I had persuaded her.
It took a while. But it worked. Probably more from her hunger and fear of the night than my histrionic effort, besides I do think she has a kind heart. But now I’d got this far I wanted to make a real impression and I wanted to help Mabel. So I asked her to go back with me as naked as I was and to be really careful what she said. I knew she’d just hurt herself with all of us if she went on scattering four letter words around as though there had been a shortage. Mark doesn’t like tham any better than I do.
That was another tussle. I think Mabel had been naked often enough in all the wrong places. But she had a sort of lower middle class thing about it. I won by saying how much nicer it is to take ‘em off yourself rather than to have them taken by force by a man. I intimated, too, that it would mean about twenty fewer strokes. By that time Mabel was beginning to take strokes seriously. She never stopped looking at the pair I was carrying around. Poor Mabel.
I stopped feeling sorry for Mabel when we’d gotten her clothes off. We’d had to tear some of them, because of the handcuffs. But once in the nude Mabel was a beauty. Her figure was good enough to eat. In fact, I did get some
