'Please don't hurry. And, darling, when you're bare come and stand by me so's I can pick up your scent.'
'No, you're being punished.'
'Ohhhh, oh please! It's such a little thing. It would help me with the pain. I think I'm behaving awfully well considering how hard you're belting me.'
'Oh alright!' The girl with the whip thrust her pubic hair against the bent head.
With her free hand she grasped Griselda's chin and raised the punished head.
'There, you can see as well as smell. Satisfied?'
'Oh yes, oh thank you! Darling, If you'd help me I'd??'
'No you won't. You're being whipped. No diversions.'
'Darling, you're so beautiful when you're naked. Why d'you ever bother with clothes. You're every bit as beautiful as me.'
How sweet she was! Innocent even in pride. Adoring and adorable. Antonia's naked breasts were heaving as she again took her stance and swung the whip.
'Ahhhh. . Ohhhh, Oh wow Oh, 'Tonia, I'll scream next time, I can feel it coming.' The errant foot kicked at nothing several times before it subsided to the floor.
It was their custom that, no matter what Griselda's punishment might be, Antonia Noyes should be naked for its infliction. Both girls were certain that when the whip was used it struck harder when swung from a bare arm, or that after the heavy chains and the thudding door were locked by a white nakedness the dungeon would seem doubly drear. Nudity became them both, even in their diverse roles. Carefully selecting her target, Antonia Noyes struck hard.
Griselda screamed.
The sound was as satisfying as the thin red lines. Antonia stood, with heaving breasts and absorbed her beloved's paean to her pain. First one bare foot, then the other proclaimed anguish as the slim hips weaved. Above the strained and helpless arms the pul ey creaked and the tether vibrated as the punished girl distressfully fought her bonds in a response purely instinctive. The girl with the whip took a deep, deep breath and cut at the crease between soft thighs and derriere. Antonia Noyes stood, enraptured, while the bound girl screamed.
'You are too beautiful, Griselda. I could whip you forever.' She heard her own voice as from far away.
'Oh. . oh. . oh! Oh, darling!' The exclamations came as gasps, pantingly under stress. The lovely bent features looked back, pinkly, 'I can't help it, 'Tonia, it hurts so terribly.'
'But you are happy.'
'Yes. . Oh, yes!'
This time the thong deliberately spent its force upon a hip. Griselda yelped in shock, then screamed. Her bare feet beat the floor in anger as well as pain, her torso heaved and surged within the confines of her handcuffs and the rope. Across her hip the whipweal spawned purple and a drop of blood. When her sounds and motions subsided she asked haltingly:
'Tonia, may I spread my legs?' They both knew why.
'You want an orgasm, Griselda. Why should I give you one?'
'I'll die if you don't. I'm? I'm? oh, 'Tonia, please!'
'Very well. I shouldn't do this. But open up.'
The naked feet and naked thighs spread far apart. It was invitation to the greatest agony a girl could know. Antonia measured distance and shrewdly struck up and under into the open crotch.
Griselda's orgasm cut short her scream, converting it to amplified sounds of brutal coitus. Unaware of the agony of her chafed wrists she worked out the spasms and convulsions in a writhing gavotte which left her sweat drenched but still captive at the end of it. When she could again speak, her voice was husky and breathless.
'Thank you. Oh, 'Tonia, thank you so much.' Then, in a whisper: 'How many more strokes?'
'You must never know that, darling.' Said 'Tonia cheerfully, then swung her whip in a wide arc of female joy.
They had a tacit understanding, Ilona had no doubt of that. But the afternoon and Paisley Publications had sapped her courage. The work now placed upon her desk eroded it further. It was first class: letters, drafts, estimates. The girl was good.
She looked up into the serenely beautiful platinum blonde smile in which there were no more reservations now than when she had hired a secretary five hours ago.
'I'm good at this too, Miss Paisley.' The young voice was quietly assured. It was also amused, and there was a faint tinge of sly reproof.
'You're damn good, Susan.' It was the approving publisher who spoke. She riffled the papers. 'I'm more than pleased.'
'Will there be anything else, Miss Paisley?'
The girl was trying to help. She must not be told to leave along with the rest of the office because it was five o'clock. Angrily fighting down inhibitions, Ilona contrived coherence: 'Yes, of course, the thing we spoke of.'
'I wasn't sure.' The wise young eyes wel ed sympathy. 'You're finding this difficult?'
'Surprisingly difficult, Susan.'
The girl nodded. 'It shows, and it doesn't need to be difficult, not with me. I should be the one who's shy and awkward, not you.' The smile widened. 'You're?
you're? well?'
'Yes, I'm Paisley Publications. That's the trouble. I've been Paisley Publications all my life.'
'But why have you left. . this, so long?'
'Too damn busy to notice. Then there was an incident.' Ilona smiled ruefully. 'It shook me enough to go looking for you. Susan, what d'you want out of life?'
'A Mistress. I have to have a Mistress or I'm not happy. I had one but? oh, never mind.'
'l do mind. Tell me.'
'She was killed in a car crash. Not too long ago. We loved each other. . That's why I'm running around loose.'
'Metaphorically? Or did she actually??'
Susan smiled in memory 'Both. I'm shockingly at a loose end. But, yes, she did keep me?' The smile became shy. 'Well, we can call it 'restrained' if we want to be very proper. Mostly she chained me and kept me naked. It's surprising how many jobs a girl can do when there's a bit of chain attached to her someplace.'
Ilona Paisley sighed thankfully. The hurdle was past. They were communicating.
She thought of Griselda and the shackled ankle, the memory flaring heat through her sex. But in spite of it her next question was still hard to phrase: 'Did she? Did she punish you?'
'Of course. She was awfully good at it. Would you like to whip me, Miss Paisley?'
'Yes, I would.'
'I can tell you've never whipped a girl, Miss Paisley. Don't feel awkward about wanting to. If you don't think you're good at it I'll give you lessons.'
'How the devil did I find you, it's miraculous!'
'We're both lucky, Miss Paisley. It's not a bit easy. I'm a natural submissive, and there's a lot of demand for submissive girls, but it's mostly with people who are just plain awful? Ugh!'
'You know so much. Susan, I'm thirty-three, but you make me feel about thirteen.'
'You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Paisley. If you'l let me I'll make you a lot more beautiful. You'll find me a very competent slavegirl.'
'You use that word: slave?'
'Of course. That's what I am. May I start calling you Mistress?'
'I'd love it. Susan, you're too good to be true. I'm way behind?'
'You must whip me quite soon, Mistress. It will set our relationship. I need whipping often. You've probably noticed how easily I get bossy.'
The girl was pure delight. Ilona Paisley recognized good fortune. But, in human perversity, the hand of Paisley Publications still rested heavily on her shoulder. To thrust it far away would need all the moral support she could get. Hesitantly, she laid bare her conscience:
'Susan, this means a new life for me. Much less time in the business. D'you ever get bothered by good old
