Chapter 2
I only know two things about him. He hates his name, and I would too if I was christened Cedric Hollings. The other is that he's scared of me. I'll have to play that for all It's worth. But with care. I've already discovered it can backfire. Look at me now! What a damn awful mess for a girl to get herself into! Naked! Hung by my wrists! Ankles chained! And a derriere cut to shreds with a cane. At least that's what it feels like. I can't see the poor abused thing the way he's got me fastened.
He says I've got to stay like this for an hour before he comes back and starts caning me again. Five and one extra. Oh damn! He says I should do some thinking. expect the bastard's right. What the hell else is there I can do! It's for sure I can't get my poor wrists loose. I've tried and tried.
I've been kidnapped.
I have not been screwed. That's puzzling. I jibed him about impotence, but I'm not a bit sure he is. But of course, there's plenty of time. His time! I don't have any now.
It's all his. I'm all his. Oh shit!
No ransom.
He just wants a slave girl. I'm elected.
I don't have a slave temperament. That's going to be bad. It will probably get me a lot of pain. Hell break me if he has to. Hell, I'm half broken now! I've already told him I'd do anything to escape more punishment. And I would too! I wonder what he might make me do!
He's a softie.
Oh sure, he'll beat me and tie me. But then he'll always feel a teensy bit guilty. It will bother him, so he'll want me to love him. I think all men want that but we girls are just as bad. The whole thing's nuts.
Can I handle him?
But he's not stupid.
Even if he became convinced I'd fallen in love with him, he'd keep me some way chained. Play it safe. He's that kind.
All the rest of my life! Like this!
Oh no! No, no, no. Oh please Heaven, no!
With chains I can never get free. Never! Chains are merciless. If only he'd tie me with rope! I'm sure it would be uncomfortable but there might be half a chance.
Why must he keep me shackled! Oh well, I suppose if he didn't I'd cause him a lot of trouble. When you think of it, the idiot's got himself into a bushel of work and bother. But then, I expect he enjoys it.
He can't let me go.
That's the worst thing. He dare not let me escape. Even if he came to want to give me my freedom he couldn't. I'd tell on him. I'd run to the police. Even if I'd promised not to, I'd go to the police. He'd spend most of his life in prison because of what he's doing to me. I find the thought exciting, thrilling. What power I'd posses at his trial! Oh balls, I'm no better than he is.
He can't trust me.
That's frightening. It's always going to be there between us when we try to communicate. because of it he'll be harder on me than maybe he wants to be. We are both boxed in. Damn and double damn!
That thing I read about.
I didn't pay much attention. But Dinky Anderson got all excited. She borrowed the magazine and never gave it back. It was about girls tying each other up so they were helpless. I think a man got in the act somewhere. Dinky said thousands do it.
A sort of love play. I'm damn sure she did it with her roommate - there were always bits of white cotton rope lying around their apartment. But I wasn't curious. Not then. Maybe I should be now! Suppose Cedric has a fetish! Damn, damn, damn!
It has to be something like that. On account of no tail yet!
Gosh, I wish I could get loose!
Just a minute or two to sit down and massage my wrists and get rid of this pain in my shoulders. I wouldn't have believed how awful this is. No girl could imagine. If only I could have a rest! I'd gladly let him tie me again afterwards.
I'm being punished.
I've been a bad girl, so I'm stripped and strapped and beaten.
It's that simple.
My life: Vast stretches of ennui interspersed with vivid pain. I'II never be able to behave to suit him. Never!
Oh damn, here he is! My Master? Oh no, no no! But that's what he is. He can do what he likes with me. Right now his eyes are positively eating up my nakedness.
Gosh, it's crazy the way men adore a girl's body. I hate being looked at like that - mostly.
"Hello Cathy." He wants to be friends.
"Hello Cedric." I can see him wince, so I pile it on. "Or would you like me to call you 'Master'?"
He won't bite. But asks: "How d'you feel now?"
"I hurt."
"I don't mean that. I mean about things?"
It was a relief to talk, so I talked. "Well, I've found out for sure I can't get loose. I haven't much hope of talking you out of caning me some more, but I'll try. I understand how I'm going to have to do the things you tell me, be obedient. I suppose I've become a slave or is that just another way of admitting I'm quite helpless?"
He nodded, sort of absently. "Are you ready for the other five, and the extra one;"
"No. I'll never be ready. Please let me have some way to earn remission."
He didn't even answer. Just stepped back and hit me: my bottom that is, with his lousy cane.
That pain drives me nuts. I can't stand it or be heroic or even respectable. I go crazy. A puppet on a string. I'm sure he gets a charge out of watching my performance. That's the reason he lets me have time between strokes. I scream as loud as I can. It helps me and I hope it hurts his ears.
It goes on and on. Slash after slash. Five lasts Forever!.
Why can't I become unconscious! I can't. I'm more vividly alive than I have ever been. It's not fair. Nothing's fair.
"Number six, Cathy. The last one. Extra hard."
Hell, they're all extra hard! When my bottom explodes in agony I pull myself off the floor and kick and kick. I've forgotten my bruised wrists, they'll have to look out for themselves. But my poor bottom, my poor wounded derriere'!.
Time passes. Probably quite a lot of it. But I am busy with my pain. It is something real and alive I have to cope with. It has a personality.
But then I remember I am now a slave girl. I have a master I must, at least, notice.
Abjectly, I offer him a sad small smile of apology for being so feminine as to be hurt by his cane and to make all that fuss. I quiver in anticipation of release.
"I'm glad you understand." He's almost shy.
I try and look as though I have all the understanding in the world. Hell, how lucky can a girl get! I swallow sarcasms by the score.
"You're not getting loose, y'know."
I hadn't known? How should I know! The knowledge is like a blow. I long to stamp my feet and beat at his silly face with my fists. My wrists are suddenly screaming their own protest. Meekly I ask.
"Why?"
"Because you want to. Because it's what you expect and think you deserve."
"But I've had my punishment. It's not fair to leave me like this."
He grins. He thinks he's proved a point. "You've just hit on the very word." He says proudly. "Fair! You have to learn that, for a slave, nothing's ever fair. She always has to do what someone else wants."
I hate myself, but I start to cry. My eyes fill with tears of self pity. He had a chance to be kind to me but he isn't using it. The salt drops course down my cheek and I cannot touch them. I rub, my cheeks against my bare raised arms and feel sure I look a mess.
"I'm sorry." he says. "But I'm sure it's best."
He goes away and leaves me alone again.
The tears help. But I am now dogged by fearful spectres of the night. How do I know he won't leave me hanging by my wrists 'til morning! I don't know! He could leave me this way for a week if he so chose. I belong to him, a chattel. Perhaps hell gag me! Perhaps he'll tie my legs or blindfold me! I stamp on the hysterics hard.
Reason tells me they are born of helplessness. I'm so well fastened I can't do a thing. All of me is in my mind and I'm going crazy.
The bastard can read me. Same as I read him. He's left me long enough to get me properly frightened. Now I'm so glad to see him I could weep for joy. When he presses the switch and the pulley lets my arms down, the look I give him is probably one of adoration. When he unbuckles my wrists it is an enchanted moment. I have never known such glory.
He locks the collar and chain back on my neck and fastens me in the bathroom the way he did before. As he leaves he says: "Have a real bath. Take lots of time. Then well have dinner."
Dinner! A bath! Breakfast! Can such normal mundane things still be a part of my life! I finger the chain that links me to the wall. It is amply long for what I need to do. But it holds me. I am a prisoner, even in a bathroom. It feels strange and demeaning to be captive only by my neck. But the single chain keeps me as much his prisoner as would the darkest dungeon. I bathe. I make myself pretty and perfumed. He has spent a lot of money on feminine bottles and jars and little boxes.
All for me! I feel better. l sit on the closed toilet to await my master's coming and release. Prudently I refrain from a towel across the hips. If he wants to see my cunt I suppose, by his standards, he's entitled to.
He carries things. Things I don't like the look of. But I stand meekly while I get a leather belt locked tight ,round my waist. It has a ring at the back. Through the ring runs a chain. At each end of the chain there is a shining metal wristlet. When these are locked round my wrists I can place a hand on each of my hips. That is all. I certainly can't fight. I discover that by putting one hand way behind I can use the other to do things. The chain slips back and forth through the ring to give me this very limited freedom. I can even feed myself, Hooray!
"I spent a lot of money on all these preparations for you, Cathy."
He's fishing for a compliment. I give him the smallest I have.
"Thank you."
"I think it's better for you not to have the full use of your hands." He pontificates.
"Saves you decisions and temptations."
"Like murdering you?" I ask sweetly.
I'm a blabbermouth. I can't help it. I'm. scared witless by what I've said. But he treats it as humour. My visions of being whipped again fade gratefully. But, oh, I'm going to have to watch my tongue!
"I'm looking forward to dinner. Just the two of us."
"Romantic." I offer guardedly, and clink my chains.
"You'll find you can manage things very well chained like that."
He says it as though my hardware was a diamond bracelet.
It's a sizeable house. I have not seen it all. I am sure there are parts of it I will not like at all. But the dining room is resplendent. Candles and silver and white linen.
My Master has done well for us. I am suddenly hungry.
"I do it all myself." he says proudly. "With the help of a few cans. And I have some wine."
I test my fetters. sure enough I can raise the goblet and drink. It's awkward but I get it all down in thirsty gulps. I look at the empty glass, surprised. My manners are atrocious.
"Gee, I'm sorry. I needed that."
He approves. Probably wants me drunk for what comes later. He refills my glass. I don't sip. I drink. I don't care. Maybe I want to get drunk too. I hold my left hand religiously behind my back. The chain from my right wrist clinks musically. He refills again.
I cannot use a knife and a fork. One or the other, but not both. We laugh over my dilemma. With ostentatious chivalry my master cuts every thing on my plate so that I can now get by with just a fork. We eat.
"Nice, eh?" he says after the first plateful.
"Lovely." I agree and keep eating.
"We must do it often."
I tense. I get a message. "You mean I won't always be allowed up to the table?"
"There's bound to be times." he says vaguely.
"Like what?"
"Well, I expect there will be times when you're locked up, or in some sort of punishment."
"Not if I can help it."
He grins winningly. "I'd rate you as punishment prone."
"That's because you enjoy punishing me."
He goes pink. "Say, is your - does it hurt to sit?"
It does hurt. but not half as much as I'd expected it to. But I'm not going to tell him so. I want him to feel guilty. "You ought to be ashamed." I tell him severely.
"Making a girl sit in this misery."
"Dammit, I'm sorry. How about a towel?"
"To wear or sit on?"
"I was thinking of the chair What a clod! "I've already bled on it." I tell him with satisfaction. "You're too late."
"You're not cut badly, are you?"
"I don't suppose Nero would think so."
He pinks a bit more. "Look, I've got you some panties. Can I get you one?"
I perked. I hated having my pussy and all that black hair sort of lying around.
Panties would make me feel whole again. I hadn't much hope of ever getting to cover my breasts. "Yes, please." I said. "I'd love a pair."
He romps off like a puppy I think 'Now's my chance! " I even get to my feet. But all these chains! Hopeless! I sit down again and wince. It's just as well, he's back in a flash. Proud as punch.
I might have known what he'd buy. They were a wisp of gossamer. The effect of wearing them would have to be mental, but even that was something. We both burst out laughing at the same time when we realised I couldn't put 'em on. Not with all those chains he got on me. So Young Lochinvar unlocked a shackle on one of my ankles. Then, with a lot of wriggling on my part and a lot of pulling and tugging on his, he finally got them where they belonged. I'll admit they were snazzy. But I wouldn't want Mother to see them. Cedric was tickled right out of his tree and almost forgot to lock the shackle back on my ankle. Then we sat down to dessert.
He wouldn't let me have my hands back to help with the dishes. Couldn't blame him much considering how I'd acted before. He left me chained, but made me stand and talk to him. The chain from my collar fastened to the wall. It felt funny standing there nearly naked and quite helpless while he worked away. But at least it didn't hurt.
Seems like bedtime comes early for slaves. After the dishes I'm taken to the damnedest place. It's a cell. The kind you see in the movies. Downstairs, of course.
But warm. Bars and stone walls. Ugh! And a sad little cot with a thin mattress.
"Want your chains off?" he asks brightly.
"Yes, please." I'm all eagerness.
He locks my tether to the wall.
"Playing safe?" I ask derisively.
"Sure. Wouldn't you?"
He has a point. I stand in happy innocence while my shackles are removed. He manages to rub his head into my triangle. I do not slap. He pushes my restraints under the cot and brings out rope. Soft white nylon stuff that will bite.
"You might get bored with chains. I'll tie you up for the night." The idiot beams. I long to smite him.
"You don't have to bother."
"No trouble at all. Cross your wrists behind your back please."
I make this really sincere. "Look, I really don't want to be trussed up with ropes all night. The collar and chain hold me safe enough, and there's a big lock on the door."
"It's not to stop you escaping, Cathy." the bastard says blandly. "It's to keep you in the proper state of mind."
"I'm humble now. Please don't tie me."
"It's not going to be a big production. Just your wrists and ankles.
"It will hurt. I'll never sleep."
"Yes you will. Besides, it will give you an interest. If you're clever at it you could get loose. More sporting than chains."
"Haven't you a nice pair of handcuffs?"
"Yes, but it's the rope for you right now. Don't sulk."
I remember the cane. What's the use! I cross my wrists behind my back. Cedric ties them tightly. and, I suspect, skilfully. I know right off I'll never get loose. Then I set down and watch him bind my ankles tight together. He makes a very neat job.
All knots are underneath. I have never been tied up before. There is something personal and vaguely exciting about it. It hurts, but not enough to matter.
"How's it feel?" He's so damn eager!
"Helpless."
"Good. Mind if I kiss you good night?"
"Go ahead."
I am kissed. I am locked in. I am alone.
I look at my tied ankles and the neat way he's corded them together and sort of cinched in between. They are snug as a bug. I try and get a look at my wrists but can't. Anyway, they're tied the same way. I test. Then I struggle. I don't expect to get free but I have to try. It's like having his hands on me all the time. Unrelenting. Panting, I flop over on the cot. My neck chain clinks. It is generously long.
It's worse than shackles. Much worse. I can't do a thing. If I don't struggle the ropes don't hurt much, but they give me no freedom at all. Chained, I could do some small things. It's for sure I can't now I 'thought of how heroines on the T.V. always slip out of their bonds. Nuts! No girl was going to slip out of these nylon bands biting away at me. I was getting ready to shed a few. tears when my lord and master showed up.
"How you doin?"
There was something on his mind. I moaned and gasped and twisted.
"It's not that bad, is it?"
"Try it sometime. Can I be chained instead?"
"Look." he says diffidently, "I'm lonely."
"It serves you right."
"Want to come back upstairs for an hour or two?"
My heart's thumping. "Yes. Oh, yes please." I struggle to sit up. "I'm afraid you'll have to carry me. I've had it.
The handcuffs gleam excitingly. I expect my eyes do too while I am untied. "Back or front?" I ask helpfully.
"In front. It's social. But I'll chain your ankles."
I do not care. I hold out my hands and am intrigued by the clicks by which the steel bands encircle and imprison my wrists. I admire the cold lovely things while Cedric fetters my feet. He then takes off my collar . I am wondrously excitingly happy. If he asked me to marry him, I expect I would. It's like winning a sweepstake.
I clink happily ahead of him from the cell.
With a couple of drinks, Cedric gets sentimental. Not mushy. He still doesn't want me to lay on my back but romantic. He comes up with goofy sighing exclamations.
"Who'd have thought this possible!" He's looking at my breasts.
I am looking into the drink I am busy sipping. I hold it easily in my chained hands.
But I have to use both, it's sort of cute. In their way, the handcuffs are cute too - lovely wicked bracelets! I'm determined to drink all he'll let me, and get an hour's comfort in this nightmare. I've just poured the drinks, and served his on my knees as I proffer it. He doesn't know how close he came to getting it in his smirking face.
But this chair is lovely and soft on my poor bruised behind, and it's a lovely room.
He's getting me so I'm grateful for anything that doesn't hurt.
"You must have thought it possible." I remind him.
"It's every chap's dream." he says enthusiastically. "Actually, all it takes is money.
They ought to have slave markets the way they did in olden times. Then I wouldn't have had to kidnap you."
"You didn't have to now. You could have courted me normally. I might have surprised you."
"Oh come now! One look at a pair of handcuffs and you'd have run for your life."
He has a point. He is now looking at the cleft in my panties. I cross my legs hurriedly, but then uncross them slowly. If all he wants to do is look, maybe I'd better be grateful.
"Why does the woman in your life have to be chained or tied up. If she liked you or loved you she wouldn't run away?"
He dismisses that with a grunt. "Marriage and living together and all that jazz is for the birds. How often does it work! The girl always messes it up by getting to be boss and spending all the money."
"You've got an inferiority complex. that's all that's wrong with you."
For an awful moment I sense the cane hovering. But he evades my accusation by an oblique diversion.
"I want you to be happy."
His eyes have left the rest of me and are focused on my face in a fatuous smile.
What a jerk! My answer is ready made.
"So you hang me up and whip me half to death! Then tie me in a mousey little cell!"
"But that's just today. It's bound to be difficult for you at first. Actually you're doing fine." His smile has wilted but he goes on manfully: "It's a well known fact that slave girls were a lot happier in their slavery than if they'd been free."
"Baloney!"
"No, honest, it's a fact."
Hold it girl! Don't get him arguing and angry. I've got it good for an hour. Play it cool. "How will you make me happy?" I ask brightly.
"You're happy now."
Damn him, he's right. I am. I feel gorgeous all over. I've even got used to him ogling my breasts. But the answer to that is easy too.
"So all right! I'm happy. You've been so mean to me all day it makes what you're giving me now seem like heaven."
"Well?" He seems to think something's been proved.
Oh damn! I can see it now. He wants power. And he's got it! He's got me. I'm a sort of instrument he can play on at will. He can make me scream or make, me laugh. He can make me beg, he can starve me, he can load me with chains, he can use my body or he can make me purr with content the way I am now. Oh shit! I could kill the S.O.B. He's reduced me to a responsive doll.
"It works fine for you." I admit lamely. "Aren't you lucky! "
I clink half way to the bar with my empty glass before I remember what I am.
Absurdly, I blush and stammer.
"I'm - I'm sorry. I should have asked."
"Go back and sit down. Then ask properly."
He is Genghis Khan. He is a Roman Caesar. I am actually frightened, at my temerity.
I return to my chair. I am very humble and only slightly sarcastic.
"Please, Master, may I refill your glass first, and then mine?"
The bastard radiates graciousness. Damn and blast! To what extent are these roles going to take hold of us and become real! Once more I am on my knees before him. it seems quite proper I should be there, raising his refill in my chained hands, I am a slave. This room has slipped back in time two thousand years.
"You did that very well, Cathy."
I suspect he is pleased only because he wants to be. This social evening suits his mood. I should leave well enough alone, but I harbour a concern that nags.
"Does the scenario call for me to be whipped tomorrow, Cedric?"
"Not if you behave."
I distrust the word "behave", so prod a again. "You won't do it to me just for - for fun -- Your fun?"
He becomes cautious. "I might. I don't have to justify anything I do with you."
It's there! I knew it was. I'll always be prey to his whims and fancies. Oh damn, I wish I could get out of this bind. Keep my cool, I've just got to keep my cool! I try and lean his way.
"I'm not sure how to address you. I feel strange about it. 'Cedric' seems familiar and pally. 'Mr. Hollings' or 'sir' sounds like I'm your secretary. That only leaves 'Master'."
"I was coming to that. Call me 'Master'."
"Yes, Master."
I savour it. I ought to hate it but I don't. It lends itself to sarcasm, and maybe it will help me keep perspective. I'll fight this slavery, but he'll make me one. I know he will.
A slave can't call her owner 'Cedric' without upsetting apple carts. My bottom constantly prompts caution.
"There is something." he says diffidently. "You've got parents. Do you want to write them a letter?"
Hastily I praise. "Thanks. It's nice of you to think of that. But what can I say to them? You'd edit it, wouldn't you?"
"I'd have to. I wouldn't blame you for trying something. But I thought a simple statement that you were . . might help."
"I can't. Figure it yourself. I've disappeared. Suddenly they get a note saying I'm all right. Then nothing. Nothing ever! It's better they think I'm dead. You've created this situation. D'you feel happy about it?" "Not really. But you weren't that close. I made inquiries."
I think we're on dangerous ground, so I say. "Please, Master, let's drop it. Maybe another time."
He's a real flitter, and slips me a new one. "You're not frightened of me, are you?"
"Do you want me to be?"
"Don't be cautious. Just tell me."
"No, I'm not afraid of you." I say slowly. "But I'm scared stiff of the things you do to me. does that make any sense?" Does it? I wonder.
"Right on." he pontificates. "It's my authority you fear, not me."
"You'll get bored with your slave girl after awhile. "What then?"
"I've thought of that. But I've got some business affairs and some social ones. You just round out a full life. When I'm not around you'll be kept in a safe place. If you've behaved there'll be the usual diversions. "Sitting in chains in front of the T.V?" "What's wrong with that?"
"And if I haven't 'behaved' I'll be uncomfortable?" "Of course. What else d'you expect!" So that is it. I've got the picture. I'll let it drop. Be happy. I'm a slave girl. I don't have a future.
I'll behave so I don't get beaten.
Oh shit!
It's not a bad evening. The drinks help. He talks about himself and my slavery. I listen and clink my chains. He finally announces bedtime.
"Could you make my ropes a little less tight, Master?"
"You're not going back to the cell."
So I've graduated already! Gosh, he's going to prove he's potent.
The bedroom is splendid, so is the four-poster. Every thing is splendid except me!
I'm back in a collar and chain. My bathroom attire. I'm excited and curious a bride in chains! Expectant is the word for Cathy. Briskly, my master locks my chain to a ring in the floor, too far distant for me to touch the bed with my cuffed hands. He throws me a blanket.
"If you prefer the cell. Just say so. I'll take you down."
I do NOT prefer the cell. I sit on the deep rug and watch him undress. He has a neat clean body and a fine erection. He points to it triumphantly and tells me it gets used only when he decides. He does NOT decide now. He puts out the light and gets into his bed. I wriggle under my blanket. When a girl's chained nothing is easy.
I'm a slave.
At the foot of my master's bed. Chained.
Why the hell am I horny!
Oh shit!