hands and arms tied behind me. Helen opened the leather case and took out a pair of bright fetters of thin polished steel.
'Oh, they are too small,' I cried. 'They will never go around my ankles.'
'Hold your tongue,' said Helen and she stooped over my little buckled feet. Oh, wonderful blissful moment! I felt the cold, cruel bands close about my ankles, the lock clasp sounding sharply through the room. It was done now, past recall. I was chained and completely at the mercy of these women. Thrills of voluptuous exquisite delight tingled warmly through my body from my high heels to my curls. I looked down-oh, bizarre and entrancing spectacle! I saw the bright bands of steel glistening on my filmy silk stockings, imprisoning my ankles. I saw my small feet in the gleaming, white satin pearl-embroidered slippers. Oh what waves of sensuous pleasure swept over me! Helen raised her hands and smoothed down my skirt from the waist to the knees. Her masterful hands, which having bound my arms and wrists behind me, and fettered my ankles, were now engaged in the feminine work of making my frock sit prettily. The blood rushed into my face.
As Helen ran her hands over the front of my lovely gown, her searching hands rested most languorously upon my crotch. Her fingers tickled and grasped at my cock. For the second time during that evening, I thanked Heaven for the leather sheath that Miss. Priscilla had forced me to wear. I was also cursing it, however ambivalently, because as Helen teased my cock, the sheath forbade me to experience the true pleasures of an erection. Instead the thing caused me great discomfort, which, of course, was not altogether unpleasing to me, but I wished suddenly to be naked and alone with Helen. I imagined her pretty gloved hands stroking and squeezing my cock. I even went so far as to picture her lovely mouth covering my prick, giving it a good-night kiss. The exquisite torture that Helen had devised for me was more than I had ever expected in my life. Helen continued to lightly tease my rod beneath the folds of my evening gown, and with every stroke I felt the strain of my secret bondage. As Helen tortured me so voluptuously, our eyes met for a long, tense moment.
'Oh, oh,' I murmured. I stood quite still, every nerve tense and alive. It seemed to me that Helen's hands had opened the door to an unimagined Paradise. She stared into my rapt eyes shrewdly.
Then in a triumphant whisper, she said, 'You wanted me to chain your feet, Denise.'
Her words brought me to my senses. It was part of her plan, I was sure, to produce in me a craving for these delectable punishments. It was part of her plot to keep me in a permanent state of submission.
'Lift the pretty creature down,' said Helen contemptuously. When I was placed standing again on the parquet floor, she added with a slow malicious smile, 'I think, Denise darling, that since you are so disobedient, before I put you back into your corner, I had better give your fleshy little ass a sound caning.'
'Oh, please no,' I cried in terror.
Helen turned to Lady Hartley.
'Don't you think that I am right, Lady Hartley?' she asked.
'Certainly. You will be doing Denise a kindness.'
'Doris, will you go and find Phoebe and ask her to bring a strong thick cane for Miss. Denise?'
'Oh, please, Helen' I whimpered, 'I have never been caned. Oh, I will go on my knees to you.'
'You can't, darling,' said Helen, 'you have your pretty feet chained together. Don't be silly!'
She turned me around and ran her hand lightly over my buttocks.
She began laughing with excitement and pleasure. 'I am afraid that even through this fabric the cane will hurt and sting you terribly dear. Your flesh is so deliciously soft.'
I wriggled and struggled in vain. Oh, what a fool I had been to let her bind and fetter me! I was helplessly at her mercy now. My heart soared with secret bliss.
Phoebe brought in a long, thick bamboo cane. It was a dreadful weapon. Helen made it whistle through the air. I shrank and trembled.
Helen burst out into a callous laugh at my abject entreaties. The other ladies moved excitedly in their chairs, tapping with their heels on the floor, making their pretty dresses rustle. Clearly, all of them were eager to see me soundly caned in my lovely clothes.
'Come, Denise, don't disgrace the smarter sex by so much cowardice!' said Helen.
She seized me. She thrust her left arms in between my bound arms and my back, and lifted my hands off my back into the air.
'Bend over, dear.'
She raised the cane high above her head.
How cruel women can be! Helen herself was flushed with pleasure. She grew more severe with each stroke.
'Seven! Oh, I love to see you crying, Denise!' she said. I writhed and screamed.
'Eight!' she cried triumphantly and the slashing cane burnt my soft buttocks like a hot wire.
'Keep still, Denise! Don't rub your knees together under your frock in that indecent way. You'll tear the lace frills of your drawers if you do.'
'Oh, Helen!' I sobbed. 'Let me go.'
'Nine! And don't squeeze your satin slippers against one another. You'll ruin the butterfly bows. Ten! You are to dance in them tonight and show them off! Eleven!'
I shivered from head to foot, fearful that I was going to shoot my spunk.
'Now for the last! Twelve!'
The last was a dreadful stroke, and I very nearly reached climax.
'Oh, untie my hands!' I screamed. 'Take my dress off! Let me plunge my bum into cold water! Oh, my flesh is on fire.'
Helen laid down the cane.
'Shut up,' she said. 'Violet, Miss. Hartley!'
They lifted me up, carried me writhing in agony into the corner, and placed me once more standing with my face to the wall.
'Your head well up! Turn your shoe buckles out!' Helen barked at me. She looked flushed with the pleasure of having completely dominated me. Her eyes were lustily feverish. She looked beautiful.
'Now cry away, baby, as much as you like, while we go down to the village. Aunt Priscilla will sit here while we are away and see that you don't move,' she whispered in my ear. 'Think of your perfect humiliation! Think of your perfect submission, and my total dominion over your body and your mind,' she whispered caressingly in my ear, tempting me with seductive images.
Soon the ladies put on their cloaks and went away. I was left in the little sitting room, standing in the corner, sobbing bitterly while Miss. Priscilla, sat at the bureau where she could watch every movement that I made. She callously ignored my weeping and wrote letters.
She had no pity for me in my bondage and misery. She was perpetually chiding me. One moment it would be, 'Don't work your shoulders in that violent way. Keep them still and if you must cry, sob silently!'
Later she said, 'I see your fingers twitching, Denise. Open your hands and let them lie quiet against your satin dress.' And then moments later, 'Your feet are trembling, Denise. Keep them still. Your slipper buckles are flashing so that they continually attract my eyes. I shall have to cut them off your shoes.'
She came over to the corner with a pair of scissors in her hand. All my vanity, all my love for my dainty slippers, rose in alarm.
'Oh, please don't cut the buckles off. Please, Miss. Priscilla!' I begged her.
'Be careful, then,' she said and rapped my insteps exposed in their open-worked thin silk stockings with the handle of her fan. My tears broke out afresh.
At last the pain of my burning flesh began to diminish. I sniffed rather than sobbed. Finally I said in a humble voice, 'Miss. Priscilla?'
'Well, what is it?' she answered sharply.
'My hands are tied. Would you be kind enough to wipe my nose for me.'
She consented. I was eighteen years old, a youth, the owner of this house, a young man of great wealth and position. And yet there I stood in a corner wearing a girl's evening frock of white satin, girls' gloves, girls' silk stockings and high-heeled shoes. Not only that, but girls' tight satin corsets and frilled batiste drawers were secreted under my dress. My long hair had been done up beautifully in a girls' coiffure. I was bound with my hands behind me, and my ankles chained, and I had to have my nose wiped by an old maid whom a year or two ago I despised. With what strange paradoxes and twists of fate does life provide us!
