Cicely Woods was intrigued. 'I really do want you to run.' She admitted disappointedly. 'And I'll still whip your hand if you don't. But you've just made a discovery about yourself. . You have, haven't you?'
'Cicely, would you consider keeping me enslaved without whipping me all the time? The chains make me obedient.'
'Well, well! Is that Miss Ilona Paisley speaking! The one who wrote that unforgivable article about the Texas Tycoon?'
'Alright, so I gave you a bad Press. Whip me for that.'
'My goodness, sweetheart, we seem to have come a long way.'
The same thought was in the mind of the naked girl. She was bemused by pain and hopelessness. But she could not hold on to the aristocratic jodhpurs forever.
Reluctantly, she loosed her bare arms and knelt back on her heels. 'You only bought me yesterday.' She said listlessly. 'So far today you've chained me and whipped me. . I'm just plain lost, and frightened, and unsure. I'm even scared of your escape offer. Cicely, please, give me a little time to catch up?'
'Poor darling, I think I'm seeing a changed girl? But I can't have you telling me what to do, y'know.'
'No, I suppose not.'
'I won't whip you for that article today, but thanks for the offer. I'll certainly whip you for it within a week or two. But right now I must insist you either walk or run off across the prairie or else place your whipped hand up there on the post.'
The shackle was hanging open. Compelled by a force she could not control, Ilona rose and placed her hurt hand within its jaws. Pulse accelerating, she watched Cicely prison her wrist in metal.
'I like the way you did that.' Cicely said thoughtfully. 'You're giving me ideas.
Does that feel good to you? back on the chain? no decisions?'
'. . Yes.'
'You know what comes next?'
'You're going to whip my hand. I'll have to hold it out.'
'Matter of principle, darling.'
'I understand. Is it. . now?'
'Want to get it over with, eh! Poor kid! You make me feel a real bitch. But I'm still going to do it. Being a girl owner isn't all that easy, y'know.'
'Well, not really. It's something I'll never know about.'
Ilona felt hypnotized. She held out her hand, palm taut. 'There, is that the way you want me?'
'Darling, you're adorable!'
The thin cruel crop cut the air with a snickering swish. Ilona Paisley was ashamed of her tears, she was ashamed of hands that could only fumble, she was ashamed of all her contortions and her cries as her hand accepted each cut of the crop, and then fought for the control by which it would once again offer itself to agony. She stood with her back to the post and used a forearm to try and cope with the salt drops on her cheeks. Her shackled wrist was close before her eyes, mocking her return to its grasp.
'I'm. . I'm sorry, Cicely, I didn't behave very well.' Her voice was choked and colourless.
'You were beautiful.'
'Do I have to stand here now, with my wrist up?'
For answer, the mistress unlocked the shackle and took her whipped purchase by the arm. 'You know where we're going, don't you?' She demanded firmly.
Ilona knew.
Ilona knew she could not have borne it the first day, she would have become hysterical. But several days had passed and several nights. . ! The metal blinds on her eyes were still hateful, and the spreadeagle tie to the four stakes was a frightening and shaming obscenity. But she had not yet screamed. She could not tell how long she had been tied thus, exposed and spread, and very, very naked, but she judged it an hour. Her wrists hurt, her ankles hurt where Nora's ropes bit tight, her shoulders ached. . ! And this was just the beginning of what Cicely laughingly called her
'spreadeagle day.'
'Every girl should have at least one, darling. Teaches her she's female.'
'Have you?'
'Well, no. . But I'm privileged, and I've watched enough to pick up reactions.'
'Please forgive me this punishment, Cicely? Or if I must have it? not blind?'
Nora had blinded her and tied the ropes. She had done both with competence and apology.
'She says it must be tight, and your cunt open.'
'And I have to be blinded this way?'
'Yes, Miss Paisley, I'm sorry the thing's so tight, but that's the way it fastens. You see any light?'
'None.'
'I'm sorry. It's a poor sort of day. I've been told to go and leave you and not come back.'
'Things will be done to me, Nora. D'you know what they are?'
'I'm just thinking 'bout the same things as you, Miss. I don't know anything for sure.'
There had been kissing, and then the receding clink of Nora's ankle chain.
Robbed of sight and motion, Ilona viewed the pictures in her mind. Nights of love, days of strange punishments, the constant laughingly offered escape she knew would never happen. . Dominating every vision was Cicely Woods. Ilona could understand none of her own mental responses, but of one thing she was sure. She was hopelessly in love with the woman who held her prisoner. She could never get enough of Cicely's nude loveliness. She was enslaved by it as firmly as by her chains.
She was allowed to feed on it nightly, but her appetite fed upon itself and was insatiable. She was beginning to see her pain as a small price for such felicity.
Ilona tensed her stretched limbs. There was no freedom. She would lie, a naked
'X' during Cicely's pleasure. She had already struggled. It would be best to struggle no more. Her mind inevitably drifted to men, and how they would view her splayed thighs and pubic hair. And then the acts they would perform on her. A girl was spread like this for only one purpose! She supposed these acts already decided and ordained, but she would be made to wait for them. It figured.
It seemed a long, long time before Ilona sensed a presence. The voice was unexpected. It was Cicely's.
'Is it very bad, darling?'
'Yes.' She was alive with hope, but dared not plead.
'All the time expecting something in here?'
Cicely must be kneeling. Her hand was caressing Ilona's blatantly open sex. It soon evoked gasps.
'Of course! I thought that was??'
A tinkle of laughter. 'I bet you were expecting Josh instead of me?'
'Yes, oh Cicely. . Cicely!!'
'Yes, honey, what?'
The feminine hand was wise within her cleft. Ilona could only moan a denial.
'Nothing, Cicely. . It's nothing. I'm sorry.'
'Going to ask me to let you loose, pet?'
'I'm always asking you to let me loose, Cicely. It's time I shut up.'
Her lips were kissed. Fingertips traced the contours of the metal blinds upon her eyes, continuing down over her lips, her chin, her throat, to reach her breasts. There they stayed, imparting the vibrations of girl to girl, teasing the nipples while Cicely talked:
'I'm tempted to let you loose, darling. But I can't. It would be bad for our relationship. I've sentenced you to a day like this and that's what you're going to get.'
The mistress giggled. 'I almost envy you the awful suspense: Cocks hovering, dogs sniffing? Maybe a whip all ready to crack! It must be positively cunt watering.'
'Well, yes. . But, Oh Cicely, it's still damn awful.'
'Good! You're a delight to be mean to. Just think, if you hadn't written that bitch of an article about me this wouldn't have happened.'
'I've said I'm sorry?'
