answer. I hedged by giving him a girlish 'Thank you, Mr. Hennery.'
'I am going to drape you over a partition, Phemie.'
'Thank you, Mr. Hennery. Can I help?'
'You could get up there,' he said dryly. 'Here's a box.' I stood on the box and leant forward. The top of the partition was level with my puss. 'It's going to hurt, Mr. Hennery, and I may fall on over — I haven't any hands.'
'You stop complaining 'bout hands,' Hennery said firmly.
'Them handcuffs stay on. I like 'em.' He surveyed my pubic hair critically, then folded my faithful rug and placed it for my comfort. 'Give me another idea, that has. But for striping yer bottom ye might as well be comfortable. I'll tie yer feet now, that'll help.' He would never be aware of inconsistencies or contradictions. Quaintly enough, the tying of my ankles tightly to a lower plank gave me the anchorage to bend over so that my puss was on the padded rug and my behind well up in the air. He took away the box. 'This is terribly uncomfortable,' I daringly demurred.
'It's in a good cause,' said Mr. Hennery. He studied my predicament. 'Got to do summat' with them hands.' I eschewed comment, I was biased. But my owner needed no help. He fastened rope to my handcuffs, threw it over a beam and pulled. My hands and arms rose away from the rest of me. I bent even further forward to ease the strain on my shoulders. 'Why, damn me if I couldn't even whip yer back, lass!' my captor exulted in discovery. My wrists hurt, my puss was crushed. I could not move a thing that mattered, certainly not my behind. It pleaded for the whip.
'Got any preference, Phemie?' Hennery tossed a cane and a crop on the straw within my extremely limited range of vision. Both made me cringe. Daisy must be a girl of character if she did this for money. I did not like the look of the limber crop. 'The cane please, Mr. Hennery,' I requested gratefully.
'Must say I like yer attitude, gal'.' My bottom was sliced by fire. I gasped and jerked. 'Caught yer unawares, eh!' As though he'd been clever.
'Gee, that hurt,' I said honestly.
'Try this one, lass.' A different spot, a second agony, a raging fire. I could not ignore the obvious. I was positioned so that my puss got the full effect of everything. She was responding healthily. The rug imposed its rough contact under my weight, each jerk made it seem alive.
'Do you hit that girl, Daisy, this hard, Mr. Hennery?'
'For five quid!' He sounded shocked at so stupid a question. 'I lay it on her like this one here.' My respect for the absent Daisy grew. I had found it hard not to scream. 'Do you have to gag her, Mr. Hennery?' I asked apprehensively.
'Don't like the gag, do yer.' Mr. Hennery had noted my concern. 'Nah, I don't bother. She howls a bit but it just gives me a better cockstand. Says the damnedest things too. Makes it interesting.'
'Do you fuck her after?' Anything to get him talking and not whipping.
'Of course I do! For five pounds.!' The next couple on my bottom were almost a reproof. 'Am I getting some nice marks, Mr. Hennery?'
'You mark lovely, lass. Let's take a good look.' His 'good look' took a long time. I was thankful. Conversation really was a useful diversion. But I soon learned why.
'Yer cunt's sticking out behind, Phemie!' He sounded shocked.
'They do if you bend a girl double, Mr. Hennery.'
'Never seen Daisy's do it. You sure it's respectable?' I almost giggled; but I hurt too much. 'I think girls vary quite a lot, Mr. Hennery. Maybe mine does protrude a bit more than most when I'm positioned like this.'
'Doesn't seem quite decent, y'know. Positively winking at me?'
'Well, it's just between the two of us,' I consoled. 'And, honest, I'm not doing anything to it to make it wink. A girl can't.'
'Ought ter be taught a lesson, it did.' His tone was highly moral. My heart sank. This absurd male was not one to ignore the gifts of nature. I had thought my puss well buried in the rug, but evidently my struggles and jerks had sent her peeping between my legs. ''Perhaps we could deal with her tomorrow?' I suggested without hope.
'Oh aye, and we will too. But right now — where did I put that dratted whip!' It was hopeless as usual. A girl might as well take her whippings and keep quiet, she's going to get them whatever she says. However, I tried. 'But, Mr. Hennery, you're busy caning my bottom right now.'
'I ain't that busy.' It was a beastly kind of pain. Far too intimate. I could envision the lash entering inside me. But it was not the ideal position for punishing my puss. Between my buttocks and the rug the whip could not get its full impact. My tormentor amused himself for a few painful minutes and then returned to the cane and my taut rear. 'Nothing like a good bottom, is there lass,' he said approvingly, and struck. He made me scream. I expect I should have started earlier instead of trying to be a little heroine. He went well beyond my tolerance before he set aside the vibrating thing that had been thrummming into my flesh. 'Bet you're ready for a good screw,' he suggested kindly. I was not ready for it at all, but I got it just the same. All I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and weep. When he was finished with me I lay panting on the straw wondering what diversion I might think up against whatever his next cruelty might be. But I had misjudged him.
'You said something about being tied up, lass?'
'Would you like to tie me up?' I erased the hope from my voice.
'Well, I can't keep lacing into yer all day, love. More's the pity. I'll tie yer up real sweet and proper and give yer a bit o' rest. Besides, I got a few jobs.' Artistry was something I would never have associated with Colin Hennery. But, with rope, he had it! 'Back against that there upright, Phemie gal', I'm goin' ter make yer real pretty.' It sounded normal. Dutifully I obeyed. I had to arrange my cuffed hands inside the curve of the small of my back, but I was surprised how well I could do this. I stood against the post, expectant. My bottom burned wickedly, but I was grateful for the respite. Perhaps I might manage to stay alive through the ministrations of this ridiculous creature who had captured me. But I shut escape from my mind. He would never let me. The bands 'round my tummy positively plastered me to the post. They were all he needed to make me secure. But they were just the start. 'I don't like no rope across a gal's tits or her chest, love,' he explained judicially. 'I got me own way o' coming up under her armpits and across her shoulders. Holds her tighter nor any other way and looks right proper.' I suppose this is where I apologize again. Being rendered helpless by such male and knowing hands engendered the lovely sensation I knew so well. I had always associated it with Yolanda. But Hennery's skill worked its inevitable magic with me. He noted my quickened breathing and laughed in satisfaction.
'See! I told yer, love. Yer liking it, aren't yer?'
'I can't help it,' I admitted apologetically. 'I'm sure it's silly, but yes I like it. The liking won't last. But for a little while I'll know a peculiar kind of peace.' He tugged at a rope that went over my shoulder, behind my neck and 'round the post. It was brutal, but I glowed in the knowledge of being possessed by another. I had passed my point of no return and would be dependent on this odd man for future liberty. In the meantime he would have every little bit of me totally. The rope burned my shoulders as it bit deep, I loved it!
'You won't even be able to wiggle, Phemie.' What an ill assorted pair we were, yet joined by this common need! I stood in a roseate radiance as my knees were cinched and then my ankles. Lastly he examined the placement of my chained hands, then used more rope to clamp them back to the wood and render them immobile in a manner the handcuffs could not do. He stepped away and examined me. In his way he was a sculptor who had wrought a statue. I felt a strange pride that it was me.
'What yer say to the rest o' the day, lass?'
'It's not for me to say, Mr. Hennery. I'm the captive. It's you who can do what you like with me.' It was throwing my bread upon the waters. The devil of it was I meant every word. The way he had tied me was a work of art.
'You and me's going to get along a treat, Phemie.' He stood for a long time, drinking in my strained and outthrust breasts and my coy pubic bush. Then, as though rendered speechless by what he saw; he turned and went about his affairs. Alright! I'm a silly girl. I'm a nympho', I'm kinky, I'm irresponsible, I deserve all I get. But I told you! I can't explain the phenomenon of me. I've got a notion I'm not all that different from any other girl. I'm just willing to talk. It was early in the day when I was tied. It takes me one or two hours to make the transition from loving it to wishing I hadn't been such a fool. Three hours has me panting to get loose. But, now at that point, my day stretched interminably ahead, still young. A naked girl helplessly and hopelessly tied has only one recourse:
