to darling Dorinda. She can hardly wait. Haven’t you noticed? That thing of yours is ready.'
Dorinda performed her task. Not with love but with mischief. She bit and felt him stiffen in alarm. How easy it would be! She abandoned the delightful thought and sent her tongue to work. Amity directed the operation, ensuring the final clean up after the orgasm. Perhaps she was concerning with the washing. With willing tongue Dorinda relieved her of anxiety. Hislop’s sex was clean and dry and very limp by the time she was finished with it.
The butler gathered the remnants of the lunch and left the dungeon.
'Well,' Terry demanded ominously.
For a moment Dorinda knew that Amity considered leaving them as they were. They had captured Hislop. She could not forgive. But then, swiftly and efficiently she did the thing she had promised. Keys turned, locks clicked.
'You really ought to let him whip you, darling,' Terry advised her earnestly. 'Much the best way to hold a man.'
Amity blushed and hurriedly left. The door slammed. The thudding bolt told the two girls they were alone. This time, the chains were long enough.
Each had their own Nirvana, their Ultima Thule, their paradise. The slave girl and her sister found their own.
'I say, darling. The light is fading.'
Dorinda had long been aware of the increasing gloom. It was several centuries later. Centuries that had passed as fleeting moments of ecstasy in which the two of them had floated on cloud and ridden the wind. 'It must be past dinner.' She agreed doubtfully. She had been aware of an uneasy feeling of helplessness since they had first been so heavily chained.
'I don’t care if they keep us chained here forever,' Terry was replete and happy.
Dorinda was not so sure. She thought lovingly of Mark, her master. She remembered Mabel. She had no wish to part from Terry. But she longed to be free. The chains had not hindered them from making love. But she had never previously known such a weight of metal upon her limbs. It was frightening in its prohibition of easy movement. When they embraced they must first carefully dispose their fetters and heavy links. They were truly slave.
A dungeon in twilight is not a happy place.
'Once more, darling. Once more,' Terry pleaded dreamily.
With a deep knowledge of possession Dorinda lowered her lips to the scented well. Terry moaned in delight…
'Another bad day by the look of it.'
Mark’s voice reached them through a haze of sensation.
The two girls sat up, blinking.
Dorinda was desperately afraid.
Silence! Each delinquent looked pleadingly at her master. They did not speak. What was there for them to say? Mark surveyed the guilty pair enigmatically. Dorinda wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She buried her face in her chained hands and wept, the span of links swinging from her hands in a clinking loop.
Terry eyed her brother resignedly. 'All right, darling. What do I get?'
'Both of you should remember what I promised you. What was that?'
'A trashing.' Both pairs of female lips uttered the word in unison involuntarily. The penalty was vivid in each mind.
Impelled by the same instinct the frightened couple shuffled toward the man they had disobeyed. Reaching the limit of their tether they sank to their knees in front of him and bowed their heads. It was a beautiful piece of artistry born in a flickering hope for clemency. Mark killed the hope.
'I’ll make it a good one. You can be sure of that.'
His sister looked up at him imploringly. It was easy for him to interpret the question in her eyes.
'Yes, kitten, the whip you loathe.'
Terry wailed and joined her tears to those already floating. 'Don’t use that awful thing on Dorinda. She doesn’t deserve it. I’m the one to blame.'
'You’re a pair of idiots,' Mark affirmed, baffled. 'Dorinda’s as bad as you. She doesn’t have to let you talk her into things.'
'Oh, but she does. She does have to. She’s my slave too, y’know. We can’t ask her to obey you in everything and me in nothing.' 'You’ve got a point there, love. Just a little one, maybe,' Mark acknowledged. He turned and looked down at Dorinda. 'Have you been obeying her in the belief that if you didn’t I’d punish you?'
Dorinda squirmed. How define a communion so amorphous. 'We did start out like that, master.' Her eyes appealed. 'But in what we are guilty of now I am as much to blame as anyone. Please don’t punish Terry more than you punish me. I did what I did knowing the penalty. I’m guilty. I won’t make excuses…'
'Such nobility! I suppose this is my cue to let you both off with a caution,' Mark laughed at their woebegone faces. 'But I’m not going to. You’ve behaved absurdly: making Amity put you in this place and loading you up with all those ornaments.' He paused and eyed the kneeling figures and the chains, clung to them. His eyes glinted. 'You must have wanted them. Far it be it from me to spoil the sport…'
He left them where they knelt. The door closed behind him with a thud.
Dorinda was bereft. The chains, the deepening gloom. The certainty of the whip. All confirmed her premonitions of the day. But beyond those loomed the fact that her master had returned to daylight and dinner on the terrace, a dinner probably shared with Mabel. Without doubt Mark would be in the picture with him in some way. The thought made the dungeon doubly dark.
Terry disconsolately and noisily rose to her feet. 'Oh darling, I’ve botched everything.' She looked at her fellow captive piteously.
'He’s made up his mind. We are really in for it. I can tell.'
With equal dolor Dorinda joined her on the bench. Arranging her chains she said: 'When will he whip us?'
'That’s what scares me, darling. I expected it to be the first thing that happened to us. I was sort of resigned to the awful whip and the pain and the tears for a couple of hours, or maybe longer if he left us tied up. But now he’s got me guessing – all deliberate of course. He says suspense is good for me. I can’t bear it. But I suppose you’ve caught sight of the same thing I have.'
Dorinda indeed caught sight of the obvious. 'You mean that since we were fools enough to ask for this fix we’re in, and against his orders too, we can damn well stay in it…'
Terry clashed her fetters angrily.' Oh, damn!'
There was not much else to say.
The prisoners held each other as closely as their chains allowed. It was their only comfort left.
Hope rose momentarily when Amity appeared. But was quickly dashed.
'I’m sorry, miss. I really am. But it’s Mr. Mark’s orders.' She busied herself with the big chest.
'Oh Amity, not more chains!' Terry wailed.
'Well, miss, I suppose you have sort of asked for it. The master said something about making the punishment fit the crime.'
'I’d run if I could,' Terry vowed. 'Mark’s just being mean.'
'Whatever you say, miss.' Amity eyed her prisoners questioningly. 'I don’t suppose you are going to be silly.'
'You mean are we going to hold still while you clamp a lot of horrid things on us?' Terry demanded disgustedly. 'Oh sure. What the devil can we do. Look a couple or right Charlies, wouldn’t we, trying to struggle.'
'Movement is not completely inhibited, miss.'
'Balls.'
'Thank you miss. And now I think, the neck please.'
Dorinda watched, cringing, as a metal collar was locked upon the slender neck. A long length of lighter chain led to the wall where it was padlocked to a ring.
'Oh Amity. It’s beastly. All that chain. It drags at my neck.'
'Quite so, miss.'
'I could kick you when you say that. You sound snug.'
'I’m really sorry about this one miss. I fear it will seem an unkind imposition.'
