Chapter 5
A Social Evening.
I am annoyed with these dreams of mine, I behave like an idiot. I can blame Jason for the bondage and punishments, but I've had these excursions into fantasy for as far back as I can remember. Silly romantic kid's stuff mostly, until the teens introduced sex, manhandling, and an obsession with my pubic hair. I tended and mentally encouraged each curly frond. I even secretly anointed my crotch with patent preparations from the drug store .... Anyway, I wish I didn't have 'em, they're unsettling, and I think they denote a weakness in me. I'm not going to tell this one to Jason, he'd laugh his head off.
We get up for a workday and everything's normal, we like each other. Bill has receded far away, but he's left me with a nag I have to get rid of. I can't possibly leave well enough alone. I blurt out my beef.
"Jason, I'm coming home this evening, same as always. What happens?"
He seems genuinely puzzled. "What would happen, honeybunch?" He asks blandly. "You get supper="
"You know what you said, Jason. Do I get tied up and delivered to Bill?"
"Oh that! Hell no, Carrie. What a notion!"
"Well, it's yours. You said you wanted to?"
"That was last night."
"You were in love with your Roulette idea. You seemed to think it wouldn't hurt me to go along with it?"
"Forget it. What's your trouble, sweets?"
"Only that I'm not coming home if it is still on the books."
Jason looks at me with grave seriousness. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I mean it. I don't want to be sold."
"And I don't want to sell you."
He takes me in his arms and makes me absurdly happy. But when I get to the office I'm still thinking of Bill and how shockingly helpless I am when Jason ties me up. Sometimes through the day I remember my dream. The Captain of that pirate ship looks more and more like Jason. I am more than ever annoyed.
But as I prepare dinner in the kitchen after five I recover my equanimity. Bill was not panting at the door, there are no scattered pieces of rope, nothing to disturb an honest slavegirl in her duties. I sing as I work, and when Jason arrives with a bottle of our favourite wine I am very happy. He also has a package ... !
I have dinner kneeling beside his chair, my hands cuffed behind my back. I never know if this is punishment or just routine, but I am not too concerned. It's a happy enough meal, and I notice he gives me all the nicest bits and pieces from
his plate, and I am sure he has me drink at least half the wine. Neither of us mention the package but we both know I am bursting with curiosity.
The dishes get my hands locked round in front, the handcuffs have become symbolic instead of making me helpless. I think that if I went far away and never saw Jason again I would keep a pair of handcuffs in my home, and wear them sometimes ....
"O.K. Sweetheart, you may open it."
He unlocks my handcuffs. I should get a clue from this. For me, when in Jason's company, freedom is suspect. I tear at wrappings, and gasp. My dream floods back in an erotic wave .... But Jason could not have known ... he just couldn't!
"Rings for remembrance, darling."
They are not rings! They are the same iron bands the smith of the pirate ship welded on me in the night. They are beautiful, implacable ... deliciously frightening. There are three of them, and I can guess their use. I pick up the smallest of them; it is for my wrist, I know it is! But it has no hinge, I cannot pull it open. I look at my master, puzzled. "But, Jason, how - ?"
He is proud of them and pleased with Me. He becomes the large and masterful Male as he takes the near circle from me and demonstrates with a strange sliver of steel and a tiny orifice I had not noticed. He tugs and, as if by magic, the band becomes two half circles, one has prongs, the other has holes into which they slide. Mechanically, I offer my wrist.
It is exquisitely neat. Jason thrusts the two halves together with my wrist between. There is a lovely click and I wear a metal band. The pirate shackle had a ring but this is smooth: It is also heavy and unmistakable for what it is. "Like it, love?"
I hug and kiss. It is gorgeous. I know I am absurd, but if it was gold or silver I could not be more pleased. My heart thumps.
One for an ankle and one for my neck. I cannot call it a collar, it is an iron band like the others. Jason solemnly locks them on me and I feel most adequately dressed.
"I'll have you wear one at a time, darling. All three at once might be too much for your office."
I tense. I should have guessed. "Jason ... J-A--S-O-N, I can't possibly ... They're in full view!"
"So what?"
"But everyone can see! They'll ask questions."
"Fob 'em off. You'll think of something."
"I won't! I'll be terribly embarrassed."
"Would you sooner wear the wire belt?" His tone becomes ominous. "I'll have one made an inch smaller, then you'll really know you've got it on."
"No, you know I don't want that either." In spite of chagrin I can feel laughter welling. "You do think up the damndest things."
"You love 'em."
"Well, not always. Jason, are you really going to send me to the office with one of these things locked on me?"
"You know I am. Hell, I can take two off and leave one on - and there you are! Which would you like first for starters?"
"My wrist. Maybe I can hatch up a story about a bracelet. I don't know how I can possibly explain the others."
"O.K." Jason takes the anklet and the neck band from me. I feel naked without them. "But I'll tell you this, Carrie, you look damn good with 'em on, they're beautifully erotic."
He speaks truth. They are something of Him on Me. To the initiate they are a proclamation of my slavery. I feel the familiar heat and put out vibrations. I want to be fucked by Jason - no one else, just Him. I am confident I will be - later on! I watch in surprise as he unlocks the iron bracelet from my wrist.
"Got something else, Carrie, you'll love it."
It is a familiar enough object in our home, a heavy screwed eyelet such as Jason has installed here and there already. Grinning at my questioning gaze, he looks up at the ceiling.
"Oh, no, Jason, not in the middle of the living room!" He pays no heed but goes to fetch his drill. When he is finished with this facility, intended for my discomfort, the ring is screwed fast into the ceiling joist, it is surprisingly inconspicuous. Jason's regard for my nakedness has become speculative.
"You'll look adorable, sweetheart."
"No I won't, I'll look all ... bare. Jason, why do you always have to make me feel ashamed!"
"All in your mind, darling. Want to try it out?"
"Not if I don't have to."
"You have to."
I sigh, audibly. I hope it sounds forlorn and makes him feel guilty. I then hold out my hands.
He has acquired some clingy bandage stuff. He now proceeds to wrap my wrists with it. I instantly deduce his intent and protest. "J-A-S-O-N- ... ! I don't want to be hung up - I don't want to be hung up by my wrists!"
"You won't be if you behave."
I sniff. Behaving means doing whatever he says. I cannot share his enthusiasm as he completes my bandaging and then ties a rope through the middle between my wrists. Needless to say, the other end goes up through the
ring. Jason is striving for an effect: when I am tensioned to his satisfaction I stand naked in the centre of our living room, my bound hands drawn up enough above my head that I cannot reach them with my teeth but not enough to make me stand on my toes. By the standards of being tied up it isn't all that bad. But I feel an idiot and thrice naked. The familiar furniture stares with disapproval, I am spoiling the decor.
"Very cute." I concede, grudgingly. "How long's my sentence?"
"All evening, darling. By using the bandages"
"Jason, don't be mean. I don't want to stand naked in the middle of the living room all evening. I already feel silly."
"That will wear off."
"Jason ... please? Can't you be satisfied with an hour?"
"Any more importunities, love, and your hands go up another couple of inches."
I relapse into sulky silence. I have allowed Jason to do this to me so I can damn well put up with it! I am forever coming up against a confrontation with my submissions, I should be getting used to it by now. The fact is, I get a charge out of this, same as he does. I suppose the sulks come from being female, we never quite reconcile ourselves to being on the wrong end of the stick.
"You see, you're really enjoying the spotlight, sweets. You add that touch of something this room's always needed."
"All I add is a naked female who has to stand, uncomfortably, with her hands above her head. Chippendale or Grand Rapids would disown me."
"Sharpen your pique, darling, I'm enjoying every plaint."
I cannot win, so I sniff disdainfully and change weight from one foot to the other. "What are you going to do while I stand here, sit and look at my pubic hair?"
"You have a Thing about your pubic hair, Carrie. How's about me shaving it oft?"
"Don't you dare!"
My exclamation is out before I can check it. I'm sure it's a tactical error. Without volition, my right leg rises and strives to curtail Jason's view of my sex. It is a ridiculous motion, belonging somewhere with maiden blushes, but he is entranced.
"Do that again, darling."
"Do what?" As if I didn't know!
"Try and cover your curly fronds with your thigh. It's most lasciviously delicious."
"Don't be horrible."
"No, honest Carrie, when you do that you're a thing of beauty-the slicks would pay thousands ...."
"You know that sort of thing makes me ashamed - I can't get over being ashamed ... sorry."
"Half a dozen with the nicer crop, dear ... ?"
There we go again, the Man Thing! I'd love to stamp my feet and scream, but I daren't be anything but a good little girl. I'd far sooner stand here in unmarked innocence than, rebelliously, with six stripes burning my bottom. I look reproachfully at the omniscient Male and once more raise my leg in maiden shame.
"Lovely, lovely! Just a bit higher, darling, and twist a bit, I can still see some pubic hairs."
I stand on one foot and do my duty. My duty is to obey my Master and to give him pleasure - never mind about me. I am sure I look sweet and innocent ... and mortified! I do not have to act, and my blush is something I cannot control. I wonder how long I will have to emulate a stork.
"At ease, sweetheart. You were divinely erotic. I am the luckiest of men."
I'm glad he knows it! Thankfully, I rearrange my nakedness with both feet on the floor, a slavegirl is thankful for the smallest of mercies. Without too much hope, I ask: "How'd you like to let me loose now?"
"Don't be silly, dear."
"Well, having me stand on one leg has given you the damndest erection ... I thought you'd like to use it?"
"Darling girl, you know perfectly well I don't have to untie you to do that."
"Jason, it's not as good standing up - and the things I have to do, tied the way you've got me, they make me so ... wanton."
"But, Carrie, you are wanton, you little hypocrite. What I'm going to make you do now is -"
The doorbell cuts Jason off short. With luck I may never find out what he was going to make me do. But I tense! No one at the door can possibly see me, but just suppose ... ! I feel fearfully naked, and I listen, oh, how I listen!
I have a mental picture of a relative brushing past Jason to behold me as I am. Or of another idiot like Bill. Or the Landlord! I shrink and look up longingly at my bound wrists. But I am helpless, I have only my ears. Distantly there is the murmur of voices, one of which might be female, they drag on and on ... The front door closes but the voices continue. Someone is inside!
"Hello, darling." Her voice is breathless. "Oooooo ... you're just too gorgeous like that - I knew I was right! Oh; Carrie!"
It is Daphne Pilgrim, the cute one from the office.
"I think you two know each other." Jason is entranced. "It was easy to get your address, and I followed you home, just to make sure. Carrie, dear, I just had to know. Please don't hate me."
The poor girl is different and wants to be loved. Jason stands to one side, enjoying the show of his life. I am tied and naked and just plain embarrassed.
"Go away, Daphne, just go away. Please!"
"But, Carrie -"
"This is none of your business, Daph'. I don't want you to see me like this. Jason, take her away."
"Carrie!"
His note of warning is loud and clear. My present state is bad enough without being whipped while this pretty bit of female watches. I temporize.
"Well then, untie me and let me dress. We can visit."
"Don't be silly, darling."
"But this is awful, I'm naked!"
It is Daphne who kisses me. She holds my head with gentle hands and looks deep into my eyes. "It isn't awful." She says slowly. "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
I feel an object, and am sulkier than need be. Daphne Pilgrim is quite lovely, and her lips are warm. But my retort is sharp. "Then maybe you'd like to take my place?"
"Yes, I would."
I might have known. This enraptured damsel is ripe for Jason's cords, and I am helpless. Oh, damn! A pregnant silence lengthens until Jason says. "You may play with Carrie if you wish to, Miss Pilgrim. She can't get away."
"Ohhhhhh ... Mmmmmm!" The sounds are exhalations of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!"
The way I am tied leaves it possible for me to twist and turn, I could even kick. I can easily make my nipples elusive. But what is the use, such contortions will shame me more - and Jason will tie my feet or whip me. I am foxed. So I stand passively for a delighted girl to explore my body.
"I've never touched a woman like this before." Young fingers extract a gasp from me as they caress and pull and twist. My nipples are instantly hard, her hands hold magic to make me gasp and moan. Our gaze locks in an exchange of feminine knowledge.
"You'll find her exquisitely responsive." says my Master nonchalantly. "Try her cunt."
The S.O.B.! Jason is punishing me. He wants Daphne to see my face go slack in orgasm. I would prefer to be whipped. I separate my thighs to facilitate her handling of my Venus Mound. I wish I was bone dry down there, but I am positive I am wet.
"I think she's wonderful." My colleague from the office is getting the palm of her hand wet with my secretions. "I've been lusting after her for ages -"
"You've been wanting someone to tie you up." I remind her tartly.
"Yes, of course." Her response is absent with her preoccupation. "But I've never been able to do this before. I mean, to have a girl all naked and mine."
"You a Lesbian, Daphne?"
Jason's query echoes mine. He is enraptured by fresh visions. I would love to kick him. I would love to kick them both. Once more, in longing, I glance up at my tied wrists.
"She wants to get loose." Daphne bites my left nipple admonishingly. "And the Lesbian thing ... ! Gosh, I don't really know. I think masterful men are super, but still ... ! Do you think I'm a Lesbian, Jason?"
"Find out for yourself." My Master disposes of me with a grand gesture. "You kneel between her legs, and her slit's right handy. Carrie's got the neatest of slits."
Poor Daphne! She is suffering from too much too soon. I am a plethora of goodies. I suspect she wishes Jason was not present to watch, but I don't like the way she is eying my triangle of curls.
"You're not going to do that." I tell her firmly. "You kneel down there and I'll kick you."
I think she is relieved, Jason is not. "She can't get free, Miss Pilgrim. Would you like to whip her until she becomes hospitable?" His voice oozes charity.
"Oh, I couldn't!" Her exclamation said all too plainly she most happily could. "Do you really whip the poor darling?"
"Count her stripes."
"Mmmmm ... !" Daphne's finger traces some of my most recent weals. "They're yummy. But could I take a rain check? I mean, this is all so - so - Well, anyway, she and I do work in the same office."
"Needn't stop you whipping her. She'd love it. Wouldn't you, Carrie?"
"No, I would not!"
Retribution glowers. I cringe. But Daphne saves me with another bright bit of innocence. "See, I didn't think she'd want to be whipped; not with me. I expect she loves it when you whip her alone." She looks back and forth at us happily. "But there's something I'd really like to do: may I tie her ankles together?"
In the pervading mood Jason would agree to her painting me blue. As he provides rope, I content myself with knowing it is better to have my ankles tied than to have my back whipped or my bottom caned in front of curious female eyes.
"Don't be scared to tie her tight." Says the omniscient Mate. "It's no good unless it bites."
It bites! But I make no demur. Daphne is panting. Poor girl, I suppose to tie my feet with rope is a seventh heaven. She enters the gate with vigour and enthusiasm so I have to, bite my lip to keep from saying 'ouch!'.
"I've read a lot of magazines." says Daphne.
I bet she has! Round and round and the cinch between. I cool a derisive retort.
"May as well tie her knees too." Jason suggests. "Makes a nice dressy effect."
"I was wondering if I could do that bit --?" Miss Pilgrim is embarrassed. "You know how, in the pictures ... the rope goes down and under - ?"
"Oh, the cunt cutter." Jason says brutally. "Go ahead."
"You're both of you being unkind." I tell them reproachfully. "Just because I'm helpless. But please do use me. Have fun."
"She loves it, Daphne."
Daphne giggles. "I'm sure she does. I know I would."
We enjoy a period in which Daphne's quick breathing is the only sound. I stand, naked, with my hands tied above my head while my waist is cinched by strand after strand ... and then the fatal thrusting and tugging between my thighs -"
"You'll have to separate her labia with your fingers if you want the rope right inside her, Miss Pilgrim."
"Oh, don't do it that way." I plead desperately. "If you use two ropes, one on each side of my - my - "
"She's talking about her cunt."
"Well ... yes. You can tug a rope each side and get a good effect, my Venus mound will thrust out"
Daphne Pilgrim separates my labia and strictures the rope within. It doesn't hurt as much as you'd suppose, but I gasp anyway as the only reproach I dare make. She pulls and heaves unkindly, then ties the final knot. I wear a chastity belt of rope, designed only to hurt and to shame. It hurts. I am shamed. It is a successful tie. Thoughtfully, and obviously very happy, my comrade from the office now ties my knees as she has tied my ankles. Proudly, she steps back.
"Nice bit of work, Miss Pilgrim."
"Please don't call me Miss Pilgrim. I want to be Daphne to both of you." The little so-and-so's eyes are dewy with maiden innocence which turns to simple lechery
when she, looks back at me. "I think Carrie's simply darling when she's like this. How long will you make her stand?"
"Hmmmm, you suggest a time. Sentence her."
"Mmmmmm, all evening?"
"Why not!"
They gaze upon me blandly. Bound thus, I give them great pleasure. Tears fill my eyes, but they would probably enjoy them so I blink them back.
"Are you hurting, darling?" She sounds concerned. "I mean, a nice kind of hurt?"
"Of course I'm hurting, and it isn't nice."
"You'll have to whip her if you want gratitude." Jason advises cheerfully. "It's feminine pride, or some such nonsense."
I am fervently kissed and my nipples are attended to until I start to pant. Then Daphne pats my breasts and says: "There, there, I mustn't excite you. I'll leave that to Jason."
"Want to tie her some more?"
Jason has become a voyeur. I am a pretty mannequin who is roped instead of clothed. Our visitor is inundated by a fresh wave of excitement.
"But how? The darling's already - ?"
"Tie her breasts. Let her arms down and tie her hands behind her back ... and - her elbows."
"Oh, wow, may I?" Daphne's eyes sparkle. "But to do that I'd have to untie her hands first - "
"So what!"
Miss Pilgrim has the grace to be ashamed, but she looks at me boldly. "Carrie, d'you mind? May I? "
"Go ahead. I'll be very obedient and put my arms wherever you want 'em." Bitterly, I add: "I'll be whipped if I don't."
She knows how to shame me. My hands are lowered and freed before she binds my breasts. I have to help by raising an elbow, holding a rope, or separating my breasts so her bindings can go between. She ropes me beautifully as per the magazines, tight, tight, tight so it hurts to breathe. My breasts mock my modesty by sticking out a mile and my nipples are purely outrageous. I am ashamed of them - or am I! Oh, damn!
"You've got a natural aptitude, Daphne." Jason approves. "I've never seen the dear girl look better."
Little Miss Lechery places my hands palm to palm above my bottom. If my wrists could scream at the cut of cords they would do so now. I look at Jason, hopeful of reprieve. But he could care less, he is completely engrossed with Daphne's work of art - Me! All he does is drop a hint.
"If you want to punish her elbows, tie 'em with a single rope. Otherwise, it's best to use a number, on account of her circulation."
Miss Pilgrim is merciful. My elbows are looped and looped before they are drawn tight and cinched. If my breasts were wanton before; they are now like pointing cannons, their nipples flint. My audience of two stand back and drink me in. I stand very still, it would be awful to teeter and fall, I'd hit the rug like a sack of potatoes.
"How about a drink?" Jason is a wonderful host.
He mixes and pours. Only two glasses! I yearn avidly but dare not ask. I could be gagged! Jason has forgotten the gag and I won't remind him. Daphne comes to my rescue.
"But poor dear Carrie? Doesn't she - ?"
Jason shrugs. He is now looking more at Daphne's breasts than at mine. Her's are covered but distinctly noticeable. He fills another glass. "You can feed her." He says expansively. "She's your's."
We exchange some more female eye play as I draw thirstily at the glass she holds to my lips. If she feels sorry for me she won't let on. She is still trembling with excitement. "You're so lucky, so terribly lucky, Carrie." She is achingly sincere.
"Then ask Jason to tie you up like this." I suggest huffily. I'm sure he'd oblige."
Her eyes become stars, she turns, "Jason-would you?"
"Of course."
"It's what I've always wanted, all my life." She is dreaming aloud, and accepts a second drink without noticing. "When I saw those marks on Carrie's wrists ... ! I can't tell you what it did to me."
"What about tying me like this?" I accuse. "Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed - ?"
"Oh, but I have! So much, so terribly much. But ... but - Gosh, I'm all confused." "Naked." Jason says casually.
"Eh - ?" Daphne is momentarily startled.
"I never tie a girl when she's clothed."
"Oh yes, of course!" She takes a big swallow. "I do understand. Would you like me to undress?"
"I want you completely nude. Do you know why?"
He is playing with her the way he plays with me. Jason is a lucky S.O.B. and doesn't deserve us both, but it looks as though he's got us. I'm on fire with jealousy. But, trussed like this, I had best not let it show. Anyway, I don't think I can influence whatever is about to happen.
Daphne is seeing Jason as a god omnipotent, her voice is hushed. "Well, I think I know. There's several reasons, aren't there? To make me know what I am ... and to be able to tie me more securely." She ventures a giggle. "Look at poor darling Carrie! And then - then - Well, I suppose it makes me a lot more convenient to punish?"
"Punish? How?"
"You whip Carrie. I suppose you'd whip me?"
"Very good." Jason is magnanimous. "And the other reason?"
Poor dear! she knows the next one but won't say it. Venomously, I say it for her. "He means when we're naked we're more convenient to fuck."
She takes the blow bravely. "Yes, naturally -" She looks at my master dubiously. "I didn't know -"
"You can leave anytime." Thoughtfully, he ignores her and finds a ball gag which he brings to me. "Darling, you talk too much." In shame and obedience I open my mouth for the ball. It has been purchased specially for me and slips right inside my mouth over my tongue. When Jason straps it tight I am very silent indeed. I should have kept quiet, this serves me right.
Daphne watches my latest humiliation with shining eyes. The gag should be in her mouth, not mine. Decisively, she burns her bridges. "I don't want to leave, Jason."
She is heartbreakingly lovely. When she throws aside her last stitch I know I am seeing one of the most beautiful female bodies extant. The two of us would tax a judge. I wonder if Jason realizes his blessedness ... ? I want, more than ever, to kick him where it hurts. Daphne starts to cover her important parts with her hands, then rejects hypocrisy. With fingers intertwined at the back of her neck she asks, impudently. "I'm nice, aren't I?"
Jason is not going to let her win points. "You'll look damn good under the whip." he concedes. "Now spread your legs."
Her blush is eloquent, but she obeys. She has a flourishing bush which shines in good health above and on her mound.
"Ever seen these things?"
Handcuffs are a shock the first time. A girl thinks they're only for criminals. Daphne manages a giggle. "Sure. On T.V. and the movies. I didn't know people like us -"
"Come here and turn your back to me."
I know the terrible potency of such an order. It tells a girl she is giving herself utterly, stepping across a point of no return. Without hesitation, Daphne takes the step. I watch her wince as the decisive clicks prison her wrists. But she is happy.
"Step away and get yourself loose."
Daphne obeys. For a minute she is absorbed with tugs and struggles. Then she looks at Jason. "But it's not possible, is it? I mean, I can't, I can't possibly get them off."
"Good! Now here's what we're going to do." Jason is in his stride and enjoying himself immensely. "Quite soon I'm going to send you home. Get a good night's sleep, then tomorrow see if your courage holds up. If it does, you can come home here with Carrie and I'll tie you up so you can't even twitch. I will also whip you. You can ask Carrie about the whip: it hurts like blazes."
She is still a'glow but her voice is tremulous. "Why would you whip me, Jason, I won't have done anything?"
"If you think a minute you'll realize how silly that question was." Jason is dead serious. "Girls don't need to do anything to get themselves whipped. Whipping a girl is an end in itself, it doesn't need justifications."
"You'll whip me because it gives you pleasure?"
"I won't answer that. You can ask Carrie."
Poor girl. Jason is being mean, driving a hard bargain. I suppose he doesn't care all that much if Daphne backs out, he still has me. He has me for sure. I feel an idiot standing like this, especially since it's a girl who trussed me like a turkey for the oven. The rope she has tugged into my pussy is a constant, reminder, it is catty girl talk made physical. And I hate this gag, it divorces me from them. I am a piece of furniture with breasts.
"Alright. Jason." Daphne is concerned only with him, not with me. "I'll give myself. You can do what you like with me."
"O.K." He is brisk and authoritative. "Lay yourself on the rug - the handcuffs won't stop you. Assume a proper position to be fucked."
It is brutal and unkind, but it is Jason playing his Roulette. I watch the handcuffed naked girl absorb the blow. In her place I would have walked out ... I think she would like to now. But Jason has been clever: she is handcuffed and she is nude. Sure, he would be a gentleman and free her on request, but it would rob her of the grand gesture, the dramatic exit. Jason's demand has been uncouth enough to daunt a whore, but a whore would not have her hands cuffed behind her back. By the time Daphne sorts this out in her flustered mind the crucial moment is lost. With a shrug of feigned indifference, Miss Daphne Pilgrim gets herself down on the floor, arranges one shackled arm beneath the small of her back, lifts her knees and spreads herself wide open. Her blush is delightful.
Jason inspects his prize and prolongs a vulgar scrutiny of Daphne's plumpish labia. He is without shame, his tone is blandly innocent. "Thank you, Daphne, that will be all. You may rise."
It is a good thing I am gagged. I long to tell my master he is a louse! Daphne is not gagged: in a little girlish voice she asks: "Don't you like me?"
"I like you very much. I will fuck you tomorrow after you've been whipped."
Her eyes never leave him as she struggles awkwardly back on her feet. When she stands erect Jason places the handcuff key in one of her prisoned hands.
"Unlock yourself."
He really is a bastard. Jason has got himself a front seat to watch a girl's humiliation as she nakedly contorts to achieve something only barely possible. After a mouth watering display of female twistings the poor girl drops the key and is guiltily apologetic.
"I - I'm sorry, Jason, I can't."
"Yes you can. If I didn't know it was possible I wouldn't tell you to do it."
Daphne gives me a quick glance. I nod. Thus encouraged, she returns to the fray, ashamed at having to sit on the carpet to retrieve the tiny bit of metal which spells release. She is aware of Jason's absorbed attention which is more concerned with her female writhings than her skill as a Houdini. She blushes some more and takes a good ten minutes to loose a wrist. Even at a distance I can sense her relief. A girl handcuffed for the first time, feels sure they're forever. Proudly, she hands the shining chrome and the key to my master.
"I managed. Was I clever?"
"We will drink a toast to your cleverness." Jason is slightly euphoric from this abundance of female skin. "No, don't dress, a cocktail's twice as potent in the nude."
Daphne is dubious about the nakedness but enchanted with the bondage. My tightly bound helplessness gets a lot of her attention. When my master raises his glass to her's and toasts: "To female slavery." she takes a thankful swallow and is then contrite.
"But what about Carrie?"
"Carrie?" It's as though the S.O.B. has heard my name for the first time. "Oh, Came, she's gagged, y'know."
"But the poor darling ... ! Standing there ... ?"
"Only a slave. Don't bother."
"But she's been so sweet."
"She knows she'd better be. But if you want ..." He grins charmingly. "You'll have to unstrap her gag and strap it back in again."
With Daphne's breasts brushing my bare back as she tugs at my strap I can hear the thumping of her heart. Her excitement at my roped condition overrides embarrassment over nudity. When the hated ball is pulled from my mouth I hear her gasp in sympathy at my obvious thankfulness to be rid of it. I get abundantly kissed before my lips are ready. But I also receive the balance of her drink.
"Is being gagged very awful, darling?"
"It's bloody awful. Ask Jason if I can have another drink."
As Daphne holds the refill to my lips she asks the amused Male: "Shouldn't we untie her now, I think she's hurting?"
"No."
His negative has finality, it tells me to watch my tongue. Daphne does not contest it, she is still enraptured by the way her ropes constrict me. She tests the one through my pussy and is pleased to find it taut as a bowstring.
"Does it hurt, darling?"
"What do you think!" I ought to be more gracious but I am burning up with jealousy. "This whole damn ensemble hurts. But thank you for the drink, Daph'."
She tilts the glass to my lips but turns to Jason. "Carrie's being terribly sweet, Jason. She must absolutely hate me being here like this."
"She knows better than to say so."
Forlornly, I plead: "I won't say a thing out of line, Jason, please don't have me gagged again?"
He shrugs with feigned indifference. "You'll be gagged when I decide."
Except that the misery is gone I might as well be gagged, I dare not say anything I want to say. I am frustrated to the boiling point. Daphne picks up my vibes and looks at me with curiosity.
"Can't you get loose, Carrie? Or mustn't you try?"
"I can't possibly get loose. If I struggle I fall over."
"Mmmm, you look scrumptious."
"Give her the rest of her drink, then put her gag back. Make it tight."
Daph' feels sorry for me. It doesn't help much. I make the cocktail last as long as I dare, then say a polite 'thank you' and open my mouth. She straps the rubber ball back in and makes it very tight indeed-she isn't taking any chances either.
Jason and I watch Miss Pilgrim dress. She does it prettily.