wound he had made. 'You can stop making a fuss. I ain?t going to hit you no more.'
What had I become that this clod could make me know such thankfulness. Not to be whipped again! Perhaps without the whip I could survive. I said 'thank you', gratefully. How I loathed myself.
'No use hurting a girl too bad,' Alfred said thoughfully.
'There?s always another day.' He shambled away to his kitchen.
I was nauseated with the pain. I longed to die. We close our eyes when there are things we cannot bear. I closed mine. I had no coherent thought. I wondered if Mike Sandos knew of the awfulness of this thing. I longed to plead to him. Yet I was glad he had not seen my abasement before Alfred. I drifted in a welter of distress. I heard the voices. But it was as though I eavesdropped. What could voices have to do with a girl splayed asunder on a plank?
'But she?s bleeding, I tell you. If she faints those wires will cut her hands off….!'
There were growling sounds. Male.
'She?s going to faint. Look, she?s swaying. Oh please! I can?t help her. I?m handcuffed.' It was Terry somewhere far away.
There were many rumblings. Then Mike?s voice, incisive.
'If she comes off, you go on?'
'Yes! Oh yes. But hurry. Mike…?'
'Yes honey?'
'Please not those wires though….? I don?t think they are very practical…. I mean, they?re not safe.'
'O.K. Sweetheart. We?ll call the wires a mistake.'
Suddenly there were hands upon me. Blessed hands. My arms fell. Stupidly I saw they were covered with blood. I could not move them. I was lifted and placed upon my feet. The plank gone. I was in paradise. I leaned into someone?s arms and put my head against a chest. It smelled like Mike. I did not want to move, ever again. If I moved I hurt. But it was a beautiful pain. I heard all sorts of sounds, odd words, exclamations, bustle. Then fire was poured down my throat and I was gently lowered into a chair. I opened my eyes. Mike?s face was very close. It was concerned. I was glad. He bent and kissed my forehead. How foolish a girl! My pain left. 'Sorry, sweetheart. Error in judgment. Shouldn?t have been the first time. Too much too soon. No apologies, mind. I?m still a bastard. We ain?t setting a precedent.'
I did not care. I was so lucky. Dorinda was bandaging my wrists. A single cuff dangled from one of her own. She must have been unlocked in a hurry. There was a basin of water and towels. I was being made whole again. She looked at me with love. I who had punished her…. It was not until Mike moved his bulk away from me that I saw Terry and remembered….
She sat as I had sat. But her hands were cuffed behind her back. That was the only difference. The sign was there, and the whip. She was looking anxiously in my direction, ready to catch my eyes and smile.
'Hello darling,' she called gaily. 'Aren?t I a lucky girl? Riding horsey, horsey?'
She is in agony. Who should know better than I! Yet she laughs that I not be hurt. This darling, this most beautiful girl, she sits upon the plank and smiles at me. Oh Thalia, Thalia! I am forever shamed. I look at Mike. He grins and shakes his head. I look at Dorinda. She smiles and touches her lips with a finger.
I Am deeply shamed. I cannot look at any of them. I am so small. I want to crawl into a little hole. What would my fathet say! Absently, selfishly I feel the wound between my legs. I am intact. I do not know how this is so. But it is so. I am grateful. A girl loves her cunt. It makes her priceless in the eyes of men. She need feel no shame for being glad that it is in good working order. The feeling has come back into my arms. They have been cleansed of blood. Dorinda had put neat bandages upon my cut wrists. They no longer hurt. My hands are drawn gently behind my back. The handcuffs click. I have been told that I am still slave. I watch as Dorinda?s hands, too, are joined behind her. The task for which they were freed is done. She must return to bondage. Both of us are slaves. Our eyes acknowledge it.
You who read can tell. I am sure you can. I long to be ravished by big Mike. I am wanton, without shame in this one thing. My loins are aflame with more than the bruise of the plank. Mike does not know, or does not care. He nods, pleased that the job is done, and goes back to whatever he does in his office. Dorinda and I look at each other, uncertain what to say. Girls know so much. They have little need of words. I look at Terry. She has bowed her head and closed her eyes. She is steeped in pain: mine!
Dorinda nudges me with an elbow, and nods for us to go. My surrogate must be left without our prying eyes that she be not shamed with my shame. We steal away. I hurt as I walk. But it is a hurt I do not mind. I wish my hands were free. But what would I do with them? A slave has little use for hands. Not Mike?s slaves….
