the visions she can evoke within her mind. It's not always easy, it wasn't this time. Hennery's artistic strands of rope across my shoulders were biting at me like personal enemies. They were deep in my flesh, had been ever since he pulled them tight. The kicker was that every time I breathed they sunk in a bit deeper and hurt so much I longed to tear them away or to burst into tears. I won't dramatize. It was not my first time. It did not hurt any worse than some of Yolanda's bindings. She'd made me feel sorry for myself often enough. So I sort of put my sensations out of gear the way I'd learned from long sessions as a bound slave, and contemplated my future. I didn't have any! This was my first thought. What was happening to me now was IT! I could pick no hole in Hennery's plan to keep me forever. If someone else discovered me or I was rescued it would have to be by accident. I didn't waste time thinking about escape. The way Hennery had me the word escape was a mockery. I'd never get away from him. Can you envision it? Quite a spot for a girl! I surged angrily against my bindings but did not move. I was tied tight. But it was the future that mattered. To go on and on with Colin Hennery! He was so hard to reconcile with all my past. He did not belong. He was not a beast or an absolute brute. In some things he was almost kind. But I had to recognize I was in the power of what I could best describe as an amateur sadist. My main hope was that he'd value my body enough to wish to preserve it in good condition for his enjoyment. He probably would do this, but it wasn't much comfort. There's a precept, isn't there, that things can always get worse. Hennery was evidently a believer in it. He showed up in the early afternoon, smiling broadly. 'You look good enough to eat,' he said, and meant it. I told him how I hurt. He didn't appear to hear. 'Realized I forgot something, lass,' he informed me jovially. What he had forgotten was more rope. Rope that went up between my legs. It was not needed to make me more secure, only to hurt and to emphasize my female nakedness. Beside my puss and up over my hip. Then the real dilly, the one that went inside and was cinched up and up until I howled. I could not look down and see myself, but I was positive it was well within the lips of my cunt. They probably even closed over it.
'It's lovely, Phemie.' His eyes ate it up. 'You've no idea how sweet you look. I'm a lucky man.' He was! But little Phemie was not a lucky girl. I moaned my way through the afternoon. My poor puss complained bitterly about her treatment. But I had no one to complain to, no one to whom to pass on the pain. But I suppose that's slavery! When he let me loose I was even grateful for the ravishing he gave me on my back on the straw. That night I talked him out of tying my feet. I also got him to lock the chain and padlock on one of my ankles instead of 'round my neck. I had another lovely night's sleep. I suppose no story is all bad. The next day was something of a landmark. Or at least a change.
'I got sheep the moor, lass, and I'm a' goin' ter the village as well,' he announced at breakfast. 'But I ain't a'goin' ter leave yer all day tied in that stable. It smells a bit, you may have noticed.'
'It smells a lot,' I said bravely. 'Thank you.'
'A bit o' good fresh air, that's the ticket, love.'
'Sounds lovely. Can I have that other egg?'
'Ain't goin' ter tie yer too cruel.'
'I suppose I do have to be tied?'
'Well, love, what else would you suggest?'
'Haven't you a cage or a nice room to lock me in?'
'That cage idea, love! I like it. But I ain't got one. On a lovely day like this I don't like to make you helpless in the house. No, the fresh air's the ticket fer little Phemie today.'
'Supposing it rains later on?'
'It ain't going to. I say; love, you ain't being difficult, are you?'
'I'm sorry, Mr. Hennery. I'm an ungrateful girl. Please tie me any way you want.'
'A real champion you are! That's a fact. More tea?' I had to be careful with him. I sensed the chasm of his displeasure always waiting. Yet there was something quaintly domestic about the two of us at mealtimes. Him feeding me because of my handcuffed wrists, and our discussions about what to do to me. Utterly absurd, eh!
'If I'm going to be out in the open all-day, could I wear something, please?'
'I ain't got no girl's clothes, love.'
'I'd be grateful for anything — an old shirt.'
'No.' I'd pushed far enough. I followed him out into the yard. It really was a super day. My heart sang. But I had a vision of me drooping in some painful set of bondage all afternoon, that was allowing for my spirits holding buoyant through the morning.
'You're a good kid. I'm going to be easy, Phemie.' It was a post in the center of his yard. Nothing remarkable in size or shape or height, but, standing alone as it was, vaguely sinister. I couldn't help thinking of piles of faggots 'round my feet and someone setting the torch to them. He must have set it up after he'd locked me safe for the night.,Without being invited, I went and stood with my back against it. I had become positive that by showing myself very willing I lessened my travail. Hennery went and got a box. A slave girl is forever one step behind, forever being led up garden paths. The box didn't belong to that post. I looked my curiosity. 'Up's a daisy,' said my owner.. I stood on the box. It was then I realized that the post was not as tall as one might have expected. 'I thought this one up special for you, Phemie gal,' Hennery explained. I could have sworn there was affection in his voice. He joined me on the box. Grasping my handcuffs he lifted and heaved. It was a painful stretch for me, but he got my chained hands up and over the top of that post. When he took the box away there I stood, as neatly attached to the wooden column as if I was a part of it.
'Chap what put them cuffs on you done us both a real favour.' Hennery was pleased with his ingenuity. I did the usual motions. I twisted and turned. I was effectively a prisoner. My wrists securely handcuffed behind the post would hold me more surely than a dozen ropes.
'You can wiggle around a bit like that,' said my captor magnanimously. 'You can even sit down.' I almost said 'Big deal!' in disgust, but remembered my status and said instead: 'You're terribly sweet.' After I'd said it I realized I partly meant every word. I was being given a day without pain.
'I'll fuck you when I come home,' Hennery promised.
'It will give me something to look forward to, Mr. Hennery.' Do these exchanges of ours sound nuts? They were. But they made him happy. When he was happy I didn't get whipped, or at least not much. Now we come to the real killer! When he said good-bye, he kissed me. I won't deny it was a relief. I watched him amble over the hill and then gave my attention to getting loose. Satisfied that I couldn't, I tried sitting down. It wasn't too satisfactory and I wasn't tired yet, so I struggled to my feet again and started a nice fantasy in which I was an Indian Princess captured by the Sioux and awaiting torture or worse: the worse being fucked by the Chiefs son who fancied me. It was a very nice little dream and took up at least thirty minutes and got me lovely and wet between my legs. Then I did some serious struggles. I was putting on a desperate escape attempt for someone watching. There wasn't anyone, of course, but I heaved at my chained hands as though trying to tear them from behind the post and kept bending almost double in the effort. I edged 'round and 'round my post and looked up to see if I could possibly get my hands back up and over. I then looked for the box, but Hennery had put it away in the barn. At last, panting, and with a sopping puss I leaned back resignedly and admitted defeat. I'd known all the time, of course, but it was a nice gesture. I half dozed. The sun was kind, there were no insects. I dreamed up one fantasy after another and the time slipped by. I even had an orgasm. It wasn't an earth shaker, but I saw it as a small victory. My head fell forward as I leaned back against my post. The pair of shoes did not belong, especially since they were feminine. One minute there had been just the ground, the next minute they were there. I looked up, blinking. She was my own age, blonde, pretty but untidy. She oozed hostility. 'What's Colin pay you?' she demanded.
'I bet you're Daisy?'
'What if I am? How much money he give you?' Her concern was understandable. I was threatening a monopoly. I couldn't resist tossing a bomb.
'Nothing!' She surveyed my nakedness disgustedly. 'Fucking liar. You don't strip and do this fer nowt'.'
'I'm kidnapped. I'm a prisoner. Free me and I'll get you a thousand pounds.'
'Oh dry up!' Her voice was contemptuous. 'That's a fine old lot of cods-wallop.'
'It's true.' She looked me up and down. Then did the thing I feared most. She clutched my puss with a firm and knowing hand. When she wiped the resultant wetness across one of my breasts she asked sarcastically: 'I suppose you're the Queen's long lost daughter.' I couldn't blame Daisy. After all, it was too good to be true. 'Don't you want a thousand pounds?' I asked dejectedly.
'Where's Colin?' She evidently considered my thousand pounds unworthy of her consideration. I would have been wiser to have offered fifty, it was more her size. 'He's gone to the village,' I said miserably.
'Won't be back for awhile, eh?'
