frantic. All I knew was pain.
So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t do too well on the graphic description. I just hung there screaming and squirming while the vulture cut me here and cut me there just as she pleased. I was just a piece of pretty female flesh, delivered to the butcher.
I was left like that for a long time after my whipping was done. I remember wondering if Rabin got extra cash for my suffering. Not that it would do me any good. A slave does not get paid. When they lifted me off the post I could scarcely stand. But I was all ready for transit. My faithful handcuffs were still on my bleeding wrists. All they did now was loop a chain around my tummy and fasten it tightly with a padlock that also went through the single link of my cuffs. So now I couldn’t do anything at all. I just had to hold my hands at my waist. It was a rotten helpless feeling. I wanted to scratch my nose. I wanted to tidy my hair. I couldn’t do anything. But those who handled me as a prisoner in transit sure could. My poor little quim and my rosebuds were pinched and cupped until I would have given anything for one of the silly twits to have finished what they started.
It was quite a long ride. I was in a closed van, my ankles chained to a ring in the floor. Wicked little Terry mustn’t have a chance to escape. There was another poor girl in there too, fixed in the same way as I was. We tried to talk. But no go. So we just smiled and smiled and smiled and tugged away at out chains to show we were sisters under the skin and all that rot.
The prison was worse than the other place. I got washed and disinfected. Their idea of wash was to chain me to a ring in the wall and play a hose on me. The water wasn’t all that cold. But it sure had a force. It hurt. The bitch who did it to me made me stand facing her with my feet apart. Then she gave me a full force jet on my quim. I just couldn’t stand it. But she made me do it over and over. It was a good introduction to my new home. Ten years. I tried not to think about it…
I got a scrap of a dress. It hid the essentials. But is was a woman’s place. We could just as well have been naked in that climate. I think they only made us wear it so we’d have something to be ashamed of taking off. It’s funny. No matter how many times you’ve done it you get a fresh flush every time you strip before someone else. Even a woman. I never felt that way with Mark and Dorinda.
Then I was back at attention in front of a desk. She was a great big Nazi looking type. I got a lecture and then off came the dress and I was bent over to get ‘The Welcome’. A nice proper caning to get me properly oriented and mentally adjusted.
I was really cheesed off. I let the howls and the tears have full rein. Why not? She loved it and it helped me bear the misery. My poor bottom had just about had enough.
I was put in a cell. Still handcuffed. They loved those handcuffs. They were to humiliate, that’s all. The rotten bitches.
You want the rest? It’s a drag actually. The Nazi type caned me damn near every hour and made me tongue her until I hoped I’d never see another female part for the rest of my life… Except Dorinda’s of course. Oh, how I longed for that girl. I wanted Dorinda so bad it hurt.
Then, a couple of nights later, who do you think it was who unlocked my cell, unlocked my handcuffs and escorted me outside the gate? Oh sure, not hard to guess. The Nazi-lady herself. She hadn’t had me long, but she had got all the use out of me she could. I suspected Rabin’s rentals had got cheated. But I didn’t say so.
Oh, it was good to be free. I kept thinking of those ten years. I’d have no skin and tongue left.
It was a miracle to hop into a car. There was darling Thalia waiting for me. I hugged her and kissed her as though to reassure myself that someone nice really existed. Then I absentmindedly put my wrists into the handcuffs she held open and watched her click them tight. It never occurred to me that for a little while – the time it took from the prison wall to the waiting car – I had been free. Totally free. I’ll always wonder what would have happened if I’d run like blazes.
No rest for dear little Terry. Not that I’d expected any. Old Rabin had to get his dividends out of me. ‘Return on investment’ I believe they call it. I got in one glorious night with Dorinda, but next morning I got my summons.
'We have a limited tourist trade, ' Rabin said, eyeing me in a way I didn’t like.
'You rent them things?' I asked helpfully. Then realised what I’d said.
'You are a most perceptive girl.' I really think the old boy would sooner be nice to me than nasty, so I gave him my full attention. 'It is my experience that tourists seek abroad those pleasures they would be ashamed of to seek at home… You are following?' 'Someone wants to cane my bottom?' I'd seen it coming.
He sighed sadly. With such eloquent sighs the old boy hardly needed speech. 'Alas yes. He is a young man of your own race. A simple youth who, I suspect, is splurging an inheritance in pleasures of the flesh.'
'Isn’t he a bit depleted by the time he’s got this far?'
'It has taken him this far to pluck up his courage,' Rabin said dryly. 'I fear you are the first.'
'But you think it is in a good cause?'
'Ah yes.' Old Shylock brightened perceptibly. 'He did not quibble. During out conversation I gathered he had little interest in using female facilities for their usual function.'
He peered at me brightly through those thick lenses. 'You may be relieved by my deduction that he is probably impotent.'
'That part usually doesn’t hurt, but the other does,' I pointed out.
I got another sigh. This one told me to shut up.
Well, anyway, Cedric. That was his name. Imagine. He’d rented a house for his exploration into what fun it is to hurt a girl. Thalia delivered me nicely cleaned and perfumed and with my wrists handcuffed behind my back in the good old tried and true fashion. It’s really awful like that, a girl can’t do a thing. The key was tied round my neck with a bit of ribbon and a bow. She said I looked simply darling. I was sure I did.
Poor Cedric. I’ll always remember him as that. A poor lean weak chinned clerk from a poor dusty office in a back street. All of a sudden fate had placed heaven in his hands and he didn’t know what to do with it. He sat and looked at me with his mouth wide open. If I hadn’t been handcuffed I0d have popped something in it. I knew for sure this was the first time he’d ever really had a good look at a naked girl.
'I’ve read a lot of books,' he said as though that explained everything.
'And they’ve told you exactly what to do to me?' I wasn’t sure right then if I wanted to help the silly ass.
'Err… well… I do have my own ideas.' Sophistication plus!
'Please tell me.'
He was stymied. He couldn’t get off the first tee. I had an inspiration. It seemed a natural.
'Look here, darling,' I said in as sexy a voice as I could manage. 'Why don’t you forget the Arabian Nights and we’ll just be a couple of tourists seeing the sights. Then take me back to London. I’m ever so much fun.'
'But I wanted to whip you…' He’d managed to get it out.
'Whip me in London. There’s not so many flies there.'
He looked hastily down at his own, then blushed.
'If you’ll unlock my handcuffs I’ll be a really good girl and make you very happy. And I won’t try to escape.' I let him have both barrels. Then I twisted and pulled at my wrists as though they hurt.
He was in agony. EC1 battling Damascus. The accounts payable clerk versus Ali Baba. I watched despairingly as Ali Baba got the upper hand.
'Mr. Rabin said you’d make that suggestion.' Firm reproof.
Good old Rabin. What hope had a girl got with such an owner? He’d reach out of his grave and rent me at a profit.
'Did he tell you to keep me safely chained?'
He had the grace to actually look discomforted. 'Yes, acutely he did.' He shuffled his feet a bit. 'As a matter of fact he rented me quite a lot of stuff.'
'Jolly decent of him.'
'Saves buying it, y’know.'
'Simply spiffing. What did you get?'
He flushed. 'Quite a lot of chain actually. Anklets and wristlets. A lot of cord… You’ll look very pretty. Then, there were some other, err, things…'
'You mean things to hurt me and make me cry?'
It was a blow below the belt. He wasn’t ready for it. He hadn’t adjusted to my breasts and pubic hair even. For a moment I guessed he wished he was back in EC1.
'Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?' I asked sweetly.
