'When are you going to whip me?'
'Anytime you like, darling. But I’ve just had a super idea. Think we might persuade Mark to give Mabel to me? I wouldn’t mind being cruel to her a bit. I’d have her trained in no time.
'Did Mark do things to you every day,' Dorinda inquired shyly.
'Just about.' Terry considered as they walked down the path. Dorinda carried the picnicbasket. 'He couldn’t whip me every day. A girl doesn’t have enough skin for that. We tried all sorts of mixtures. We got whips that didn’t mark much. But somehow they weren’t genuine. It’s not really a thing you can play at. If it’s not real it falls flat. We tried a couple with a cane every day. But that turned out a flop necause I can take a couple without too much fuss. And if all you can give a girl is two, what do you do with her then?'she sighed. 'o that'’ where hthechains and the cords and all the rest comes in. He can make me stand in the stocks all day and I won’t have a mark.'
'Will we get imprisoned? That cell you told me about.'
'Of course. Mark loves locking a girl in there. She’s so damn glad to see him again. Marvellous for the male ego.'
She giggled. 'I say darling. Let’s go back and let’s have Amtiy lock both of us both in there. Chains and all. With the two of us it would be super.'
'More fun than a picnic?'
'I’ll eat you alive. Come on.'
Dorinda was intriqued. A day in a cell with this carnal moppet would be an experience. The child’s enthousiasm was infectious. To ask for imprisonment had to be absurd. But not on Kyrexos. Not with this joyous creature as a cellmate. In any case she knew she would never deny Terry anything. Terry never made her feel a slave.
Oddly enough, neither did Mark.
'With full chains, miss?' Amity was unruffled.
'Well, not our legs togteher,' Terry giggled unashamedly.
'Quite so, miss. This way, please.'
Dorinda found herself taking an interest beyond her expectations. Amy and Hislop were not of any world she had ever known. Hislop had a gift for making her feel well groomed even when she had no stictch on. Amity could not be ruffled. If they considered any of their emploer’s pleasures odd, they showed no signs of it.
'But this is the dungeon, Amity.'
'More suitable, miss. The cell is not private.'
Dorinda blushed. Terry was mollified.
It was a sizeable place. Small barred windows high up gave a fairish amount of light. It was maverloualy decorated with rings and chains. There was a wooden bench and a wooden chest. Sight of these facilities gave Dorinda the shivers, but only heightened Terry’s exauberance.
Amity might have been laying a table for two. A place for everything and everything in its place. She was intent, respectful, firm. It was evident that chains, cord and whips were within her province as well as was cutlery and linen.
'A considerable linkage between the ankles, miss.'
Dorinda watched, breathless as metal bands clicked shut upon her youthful companion’s slender ankles. The joining chain so long that it impeded no movement, inhibited no stride. But when its wearer essayed to walk the links were a swirling motion around her toes so that, for an escape minded captive, they were almost as great a handicap as a much shorter span.
'You think of everything, darling.' Terry was ecstatic.
A similar wide union was placed upon her wrists with similar effect. She could do almost anything. But the chain was heavy. It told the girl it held her captive.
'I think miss, you would find the metal collar and the very long chain with all its weight most irksome. May I suggest confinement at the waist?' She might have been seeking a decision on a menu.
'Amity, you’re a darling.'
The wide leather belt must have been fashioned for the girl. It was snug and perfect fit. The padlock that joined it to the heavy chain closed with quite an ominous sound.
'There are other confinements, miss. But I suggest this ensemble.'
'It’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to see Dorinda…'
The wait was short. Feeling foolish, yet with a tingling fascination, Dorinda was soon testing her restraint. It was very heavy and very real. Her belt fitted with the same intimacy as did the younger girl’s. The chain that joined it to the wall was heavy enough that she would always be aware of it. She felt a little frightened at this unexpected confinement. While she was still kicking at her ankle chains to watch the linkage swirl, the door closed. Amity had discreetly withdrawn to leave the young mistress alone with her joy. There was a very solid thudding of a bolt. No doubt for the final effect.
'Oh, darling.' The Two naked girls clinked their way to each other’s arms.
It could not be! It was impossible! It was too cruel! 'Damn and blast.' Terry was furious. 'The silly bitch has chained us to opposite walls.'
They could come close. Close enough to reach out and clasp hands. But their belts and heavy chains to the ring bolts in the stone allowed them no greater contact. Tug and strain as they did, they were held implacably. Two girls in a dungeon. Chained. Separate.
For a moment Dorinda wanted to laugh. Their plight had the element of cartoon humour. They were foxed. But she had no love for dungeons or such massive fetters. She had acquired a tolerant affection for the handcuffs. But these irons were grim. Disappointed, she felt like tears.
In pure frustration and rage Terry was fighting her chains. Not with any hope of escaping them. But as a vent for her spleen.
'What I’d like to do to her. Oh, how could she! It was going to be so beautiful, so absolutely gorgeous. I was going to eat you to pieces
…' she sobbed in desolation.
'Perhaps she’ll come back,' Dorinda ventured.
'She won’t y’know. Why should she.' The little mistresses are safe and sound…' she paused at a sudden vision, her face in a study. 'Why, the rotten…'
'She fixed us like this on purpose, didn’t she?' Dorinda divined.
'She must have. Amity’s not dumb.'
'That picnic would have been nice,' Dorinda wailed.
'Oh darling. I’ve never felt helpless like this before. It’s awful. It’s…. It’s scary.'
'But why? She’s got something up her sleeve.'
'She’s got us,' Dorinda mourned. 'Is there any use in screaming?'
'No!' Terry screamed at the top of her voice. The stone absorbed the sound. 'But it does make me feel better.'
She screamed again. 'Try it.'
'No thanks, but hold my hand. I need you.'
The two girls strained at their tethers, their belts cutting into their concave tummies. They could manage one hand. It was strangely comforting. The touch of someone you love had a power all of its own. When they reluctantly broke the link Dorinda sat upon the chest and Terry upon the bench. They belonged to the dungeon. They were its prey. Their chains were its hands upon their flesh.
'Don’t let’s just sit and weep,' demanded Terry angrily. 'Let’s talk. I was all primed to nuzzle you. I’m crinkly as blazes! Know what? I’m going to be carnal. If we can’t do it, at least I won’t be cheated out of talking about it.'
Dorinda cocked a doubtful eye. It seemed a very small satisfaction. She looked with distaste at the links that joined her hands and rattled them petulantly.
'Two frustrated maidens in heat,' Terry said bitterly. 'Darling, how’s your clit?'
'Lonely. How’s yours?' Might as well play the game. They could certainly do nothing else.
'Throbbing of course. I’d play with it if it didn’t seem such a waste. I mean, with you over there. Those lovely nipples and breasts and belly and pubic hair and warm thighs and moist slit. Golly, I sound like the Song of Solomon. That old boy really must have liked girls. There’s a little fire burning in my cunny. Only you can put it out.'
'My fire’s bigger than yours.' Dorinda couldn’t resist.
