Chapter 1

Castaway

I remember someone once telling me the sea was the loneliest thing in the world and now I know they're right. My dingy had been drifting two nights and day towards a compass point I could not name. The tiny craft was equipped with oars but I could not use them for my wrists were handcuffed behind my back and there was no way I could ever get them free. I had struggled and twisted and tugged most of the first day until my skin was chaffed and had cried it's protest. I had then reverted to sitting as calmly as I could on the only seat to assess the circumstances of my life, a life most probably coming to an end.

Rankin had been cheerful as he bit my wrists with the shinning steel of handcuffs before dumping me in the tiny craft which could survive not storm, but which he assured me would drift onto some distance shore for which he had a name I've now forgotten. He said I'd be bound to be picked up or run adrift on an island. When I asked him what would happen if that were not so, he simply shrugged and repeated that the boat would have to end up somewhere. "If you refuse to play, then you'll have to pay, sweetheart. Look, girl, I'm losing a nice little dingy and a pair of handcuffs because you're obstinate. Goodbye, kid. And good luck!"

It had been hard to believe but I knelt in the little boat and watched the sleek hull of Rankin Teller's very large, very expensive yacht slide by to leave me alone with the Pacific. I felt certain he would stop his big ship within a few minutes and return to give me one more ultimatum. If he had, I'm not sure what I would have done. I was scared half out of my wits as I watched the disappearing ship. The good weather and kindly sea would not last, and the dingy which now protected me from the jaws of sharks would not survive and angry waves if the ocean changed its mood.

As though to emphasize my peril, a sharks fin cut the water only a few feet from my tiny craft. A very large sharks fin. It circled for a while while I fought chained wrists in frantic efforts to escape. If I could have gotten my hands free, I could have at least used the oars. But freedom was not for my hands and arms. As I gazed after the disappearing speck on the horizon and the vastness of an ocean holding in store goodness knows what horrors, I knew myself the most frightened girl in the world.

That was yesterday. The container of water Rankin had left me was now sadly depleted. He had also allowed me to wear a torn and tattered summer frock as protection from the sun. I drew what comfort I could from both these mercies but they were a frail comfort. And they were partly offset by the handcuffs, a restraint I had never before know or dreamed of. Handcuffs were for criminals, not proper girls like me.

I won't make a dramatic affair out of the sharks. There was always one or two keeping an eye on me but they made no effort to overturn the boat even though some of them were certainly large enough. I tried to pretend they weren't there. I also tried not to think of what other sea monsters lurked below that green surface. Once more I sought relief for my parched throat. It was when I lifted my head an moistened lips that I saw the first trace of a smudge on the horizon. It seemed far too large for a ship and was undoubtedly land. I could have wept with joy. From the beginning I was unable to tell if the dingy was moving or in what direction. Obviously Rankin Teller's story about a current must be true. It took an agonizingly long time before the island took shape. There followed a further stretch of anxiety in case the current and wind pushed me away from the island. But they held good and soon my tiny boat was nearing a sandy beach and being lifted gently ashore by small breakers. I leapt joyfully from the boat and grabbed the tethering rope in joined hands to pull the boat as far up the sandy beach as I could. I couldn't say why but I felt that I should save my tiny craft. Perhaps I would need it in the future.

I stood there and looked back across the waves and knew myself the beneficiary of a miracle. I knew I was on an island. This beach was part of a sizable chunk of land. There were trees and rocks and a tiny stream of fresh water from which I drank by laying myself out on the ground.

Having survived the Pacific Ocean, I now must face a fresh unknown, a forest which I would have dearly loved to walk in what I not been handcuffed. It was glorious to walk and to be rid of the rolling feeling of the sea, even if I had no hands, I was at least a thousand percent better off. I marked up the beach and into the trees and there found, of all things, found a path!

I was still afraid but now there was curiosity about where this path led to. I followed it.

She was suddenly standing on the path ahead of me like a nymphet of the forest but very much a being of flesh and blood. She was probably fifteen, dark haired and dark eyed, and completely nude. Her wrists were joined by handcuffs more like pretty bracelets. Her voice was alive with laughter.

"You're Celie Collins. And you can call me Allie. We've been expecting you. I'll bet you're hungry."

Elfin feet twinkled along the path and elfin fingers sweetly teased my breasts to come to rest on my shoulders. While I stood there in shocked disbelief, I was affectionately kissed. Her handcuffs had a somewhat longer chain than mine, and this exquisite sprite from nowhere seemed unconscious of restraint. Dazed, I muttered, "I'm starving and I don't know where I am." In a burst of thankfulness I added, "Gosh, am I glad to see you."

"And we're ever so glad to see you," Allie said with equal feeling. "Marjory has told me to bath and feed you, and to get rid of that silly frock before the two of you meet. You're going to love it here, I'm sure you are."

Allie's skin was polished gold upon an alive young body, who's perky breasts and narrow waist were everything a wood nymphet should be.

"Celie, there's all sorts of wonderful things you have to see." Allie bubbled over with all sorts of information as we walked. The place was named Palm and consisted of a couple of square miles of land, and owned by what I gathered was the total authority of a woman named Marjory. Almost everything left me wondering. But the last thing I wanted to do was end the flow of information. I longed for free hands but refrained from asking if Allie could confer this boon. I though it reasonable to suppose that had she possessed a key to handcuffs, she would not have allowed her own wrists to remain locked together. As far as Allie seemed to be concerned, it must have been the most natural thing in the world for visitors to arrive with their hands cuffed behind their backs.

I was beginning to wonder when all those wonderful things I simply had to see would materialize, when quite suddenly the forest yielded to a delightful area of well-kept lawn. At its furthest edge was a huge, sprawling house which owed nothing to any school of design but which was obviously designed for personal and individual living. This whole area of green covered at least ten acres and contained only one tree, a tree quite close to where we stood. It was an enormous Banyan, providing adequate shade for a structure that left me gasping in disbelief. It was a huge cage which circled the huge tree making an iron-barred prison pretty much in the shape of a doughnut. Inside the prison were four totally naked girls who, as we drew closer, displayed an indolent acceptance of a strange captivity. None of the four were free—all had their elbows constrained behind their back by what I can only describe as a metal clamp which could be locked in varying degrees of restraint to join the elbows tight together or allow some distance between them but still secure them behind the wearer's back. It was far from pleasing in its similarity to birds with clipped wings. I was pretty sure it either hurt or was damned uncomfortable.

"They're so lucky," Allie sighed. "Marjory does different things to the all the time but mostly keeps them in the cage. The new ones seem to find this difficult but I think it's wonderful." She giggled delightedly. "I talk to them a lot, and sometimes Marjory agrees to putting me inside the cage with them. They're all my friends and they'll be your friends, too."

That should have been my cue to turn around and go back to the dingy and seek another island. I might actually have done this had I possessed hands, but with wrists safely locked behind my back I realized such an act impractical. Instead, I asked as politely as I could, "What have the poor things done to deserve such an imprisonment? They don't look the least bit happy."

I realized I had said the wrong thing when the fingers on my arm clasped tighter. "But Celie, you can't expect them to be laughing all the time. They are, however, tremendously interested in everything that goes on. Right now they're coming to the bars to have a look at you. Don't be nervous, just talk to them naturally. I'll sort of introduce you but afterwards you can ask you own questions. I'll bet you've got some."

I had lots of questions but what I needed then was a good cup of coffee. And maybe a meal. But my need of food and a bath was set to one side by the naked girls inside the strangest cage I had ever seen. They got their greeting in first, and it didn't do a thing for my morale.

"Where did you get her, Allie? Will you be putting her in here with us?"

At close range I could see how beautiful they were, lovely of face and figure. Laughing at them through the bars, Allie made the introductions to which the responses were far from reassuring.

"Welcome to the club, Celie."

"You'd best run as hard as you can, sweetheart, while you can."

With Allie's fingers tight gripped upon my arm, all I could manage was indignation. "I drifted ashore on this island and Allie came to meet me. I don't know where I am or what goes. Aren't your arms hurting with those clamps on your elbows?"

"They hurt a bit but we've gotten used to them. Tomorrow there'll be something else. Marjory is endless inventive." There was gay, silvery laughter. "You'll find out, darling."

I was not so dumb that I wasn't putting two and two together. It was not hard to figure that Rankin Teller's cruelty in casting me adrift had something to do with the girls inside the cage. It would be stretching coincidence to believe it simply happened by chance. These girls in the cage knew things I did not. Cautiously, I inquired of the girl holding my arm, "Did these four girls come ashore the same as I? Has this Marjory of yours have some connection with Rankin Teller?"

"You're supposed to ask them the questions, not me. I don't answer anything because Marjory does it so much better. But if you haven't anything else to ask these darlings, we'll go up to the house and get you fed and bathed."

The first thing I got was a cup of coffee by a maid who saw nothing wrong in my condition. Allie held the cup to my lips and I was too damned grateful to make complain. The bathing process was far more illuminating since it transpired I was to be bathed by Allie with my role purely passive. I would sit or stand as directed to be soaped and rubbed down in a way I must admit I found rather comforting. I'd never been bathed by someone else in my life, and I found young Allie's hands possessing a magic entirely new. She had cut my skimpy clothing off with a pair of scissors and my new nakedness made me feel even more strange. Yet, I sensed that the best thing would be for me to keep quiet and wait for things to happen. The handcuffs had taken away my power to protest, so why take a chance on losing friends? Allie's hands were loving and mischievous, and I sensed in her an unusual sexuality for a girl so young.

I was vigorously toweled with special attention to those portions of me that sent erotic tingles through my body. By the time I sat before a mirror to have her do my hair, my nipples were rigid and my sex happily generating heat. When Allie announced herself satisfied and that I was to join Marjory at dinner, my exclamation was spontaneous, "But I have to have something to wear! I can't possibly have dinner with a woman I've never met while I'm this naked."

"Of course you can," Allie said cheerfully. "I do, so why can't you? Clothes are silly in this climate, and with bodies like you possess, clothes would be indecent. Come along, darling, Marjory's waiting."

"But I'm handcuffed and helpless!"

"Marjory won't mind a bit, she wants you like that."

"Don't be difficult Celie, Marjory and I want to be kind if you'll just do as you're told."

It was suddenly there, a presence I had sensed even before seeing the cage with its prisoners. Some strange authority was force behind all this. I was expected to do as I was told in the manner of a child who knew no better. But when I thought of revolt, I realized once more how this chain of events from the moment Rankin had clasp the handcuffs on my wrists was a force guiding me and more powerful than I. Allie was sweet and had treated me with tenderness. Once more defeated, I allowed her fingers to guide me to the person I had to suppose was the final authority on Palm Island.

Marjory was simply a mature edition of the girl who held my arm. There was the same dark hair and dark eyes, and a slender perfection of figure. The difference between them was that Marjory wore clothes, which, while appearing to cover everything, artfully drew attention to everything they may have been suppose to conceal. Her age may have been thirty and she exuded vibrations and warmth which enveloped me as she swept forward and took me in her arms. Never in my life have I been more competently kissed. Good will possessed us all, and I was thinking of reviving the subject of the handcuffs behind my back, but Marjory was a jump ahead.

"Allie, darling, please look after Celie's hands. Here's a key."

I could have kissed her again and fallen on my knees in gratitude, except that things didn't turn out as I supposed. When Allie unlocked my wrist, she gently brought both arms forward and clicked the cuff back on as tightly as before. Marjory just about summed it up, "We're about to have dinner, Celie, my dear, and it would be nice for you to use your hands. Allie could feed you if you were completely helpless but this is a get-acquainted occasion and I want everything to be comfortable. Please do sit down."

If I had to be handcuffed, it's much better in front than in back. For a couple of days I'd been longing to get rid of the steel bands on my wrists. Now, with hands joined together in front, I simply didn't know what to do with them. They felt silly and awkward. I felt myself blushing but allowed Allie to propel me to the chair on Marjory's right. I wouldn't dare complaint about handcuffs because I had the feeling if I did, they would immediately go back the way they had been before. But after I said thank you for my hands, I added, tentatively, "I feel really terribly coming to you like this, without clothes. I've never been naked in public before. Not in my whole life."

Marjory's laugh was rich and genuine. "But we're not the public, Celie, dear, you see how beautiful Allie is in the nude, and you're something very special, too. I couldn't possibly bear to have any of my girls covered up. Allie tells me you saw my beauties in the cage. Wouldn't you agree they'd look silly if they were fully dressed?"

I was trapped by trying to be civil. To break this venire of good will was something I could not do. Everything pointed to nudity and restraints being a part of normal life on Palm Island. I sat down with my cuffed hands hidden in my lap, but it instantly appeared I was not allowed to be demure.

"Keep your hands were we can see them, Celie, dear," Marjory ordered sharply. "I cannot tolerate girl's playing with themselves, and they'll do it at the most unlikely moments if you give them the chance. I want to warn you now that fingering your clit will not be tolerated."

Such a frank prohibition was something I hadn't expected. Flushed, and feeling inadequate, I put my fingers up on the table, and muttered, "I wasn't even dreaming of such a thing."

"Then everything's wonderful, darling," my hostess said sweetly. "Now I have to tell you not to panic when George brings up the dinner."

"George!" My blush was growing.

"George is the butler, dear. He wears clothes and you'll see him around quite a lot. He will do what you ask within reason. I don't suppose he'll want you in his bed immediately because he's pretty well looked after by the girls you saw in the cage. Well, anyway, when George shows up, I don't want you playing the shrinking violet."

There would have to be an understanding between, and more particularly and understanding on my part as to what bizarre amounted to in this place. But I soon discovered I handled the attentions of the family butler remarkably well. George was used to newly arrived naked girls. At least I assumed he was since he gave no evidence of surprise or interest. He was a handsome black man with a voice that sounded educated. He served our needs in a polished manner.

My next confrontation was with the steel bands around my wrists. They gave me a tremendous amount of freedom but never quite enough. I could use the knife and fork by being careful, but my main handicap was mental. I was a naked and handcuffed young girl at dinner in a foreign place. When I lifted something to my face, I had to use both hands and this simple motion was watched with interest by both Allie and Marjory. By now my blush had reached a considerable shade of red.

"Allie tells me you had been cast adrift in the ocean in a dingy and drifted up on our beach by chance." I could tell Marjory was making conversations.

"I'm not sure there was any chance about it." I took my courage in hand and added, "I'm sure you know Rankin Teller, and I'm sure both of you knew that when he put me in that little boat and handcuffed my wrists, I was going to end up here in your possession." I faced Marjory with disillusioned eyes.

"Come, dear, I'm sure you don't believe such nonsense. Let's have a pleasant dinner without probing each other's minds. I don't suppose you've ever been chained or tied up, Celie? But if you have, please tell us, we'd love to know about it."

"No, I haven't, and I can't understand these handcuffs one little bit. It baffles me why Allie is so pleased with them."

"Why don't you ask the dear child, she'll tell you anything you want to know?"

Allie looked bewildered. "But I've always worn handcuffs," she said as if explaining the obvious. "I got my first pair as a birthday present when I was six years old. And I've worn them ever since." She giggled happily. "Sometimes Marjory has to give me a larger pair because I'm still growing. We keep the ones I've outgrown in a little box. I sometimes take them out and look at them. Marjory is so sweet, she spends all sorts of money buying me the most gorgeous handcuffs, like the pair I'm wearing now. I don't know why you look so startled, Celie. Girls are supposed to wear handcuffs. Don't they wear handcuffs where you come from?"

I let the subject drop. Obviously it would lead nowhere. I suspected the condition I was in was one of ignorance being bliss. I let Marjory continue.

"The story of Palm Island is fairly simple," she explained. "Seriously, I had a grandfather who was immensely rich, so rich money scarcely meant anything to him. He bought this island because of the climate, and he built this house so he could live here whenever he chose. He also imported enough young women to attend his every need. In return he settled large sums of money on us and kept us naked because of his belief it was a girl's natural condition. I was one of these girls, and when Grandpa died, he left me Palm Island and a rather large income to maintain it. I'm terribly lucky, I don't pretend I'm not."

"You mean your own grandfather kept you chained and in a cage!" I was aghast.

"You've got a gift for false interpretations, Celie, my pet." She was unruffled by my disapproval. "It's a habit we'll have to break you of. If you look at Palm Island from the proper viewpoint, you'll see that everything is perfectly correct."

"I wouldn't go away from here, not for the whole world!" Allie was looking at me as if unable to understand a female so obtuse as I.

I let it drop. It was as though there existed a transparent wall I could not surmount even though I really wanted these people as my friends. I turned my full attention upon a pair of hands in steel. I was terribly ashamed of being forced to wear these restraints and, even though Allie also wore handcuffs (in apparent joy), I sensed between us a great divide. Every time I clinked my cuffs in movement, I felt like a criminal being transported to jail. And it was easy to see Palm Island as exactly that, I could not leave it on my own power. Even though my dingy awaited on the beach, I lacked the courage to put it out to sea.

"When we finish dinner, George will serve coffee and we can sit outside in the shade and talk about a few things." Marjory would have said more had we not been interrupted by a girl, a girl as fully naked as Allie or myself. But she was totally free of any kind of restraint. She casually walked in as if part of the family, only to announce that she wanted only dessert and would join us for coffee. I stared at the nude loveliness in disbelief. She was one of the four girls I had seen in the cage.

Marjory made a formal introduction. The girl's name was Janet. She kissed me in casual affection and I kissed back. She then sat down at the table and accepted a dish from George. It was all so damned natural, I thought I'd scream.

"I thought I'd do some more work on that picture I'm painting," Janet said as though the words were of small account. "There'll probably be an hour of descent light after coffee." Janet looked at my astonishment and smiled. "I'm trying to be an artist," she explained. "And some of my work isn't all that bad. I'll show you if you'd be interested."

"But you were in the cage!" I blurted out. "You were locked in there with three other girls. I ... I don't understand!"

"That's when we said our first hello." Janet grinned at me. "You looked so wonderfully puzzled."

"You were wearing some sort of metal device that locked on your elbows."

"That's right, dear, it's an invention of Marjory's. Isn't she clever!" Janet laughed at me. "Like I told you at the cage, we hurt just a little and they're most beautifully frustrating. There's no way a girl can get them off."

I looked at Marjory. "Tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me this isn't real. Tell me this is all a joke and you're all quietly laughing." I felt my blush returning.

My words vanished into thin air. Janet and Marjory took up a conversation about our nude visitor's art, while Allie winked at me as though we shared a secret but at the same time knew when to hold our tongues. If I were baffled before, I was twice as baffled now.

Coffee in the garden was wonderful. So wonderful it left me wishing I was not handcuffed, not naked, and was somewhere far away. Janet and our hostess continued their conversation until Janet abruptly rose and said she had better catch the light while it was exactly right. Marjory looked at me with a lifted eyebrow and I knew this was the moment, a tense moment softened by Allie's girlish giggle and Marjory's gentle question, "I'm sure there'll questions you want to ask, Celie. Go right ahead."

I felt myself pushed into a focus from which I was likely to emerge feeling boorish and insensitive. But the questions were too demanding to be ignored. "Why must I be handcuffed?" I asked as simply as I could.

"I guess there's more than one reason," Marjory said thoughtfully. "But I positively adore seeing a girl wear those things. I've kept Allie handcuffed most all of her life."

"Isn't that a bit kinky?"

"Don't use that word again, Celie. Nothing is kinky if it's beautiful. And, of course, there's another reason — handcuffs on a girl's wrist keep her aware of her condition."

"You mean tell her she's a prisoner?"

"You should try and avoid these too definite conclusions, Celie. They're real purpose is to say you belong to me."

I was breathing heavily, and more than a little scared. Everything about Palm Island was bizarre, with some girls running around free, some chained. But everyone basking in the benevolence of Marjory's quiet smile. With a bitterness I could not hide, I demanded, "So when do you put me in the cage? And get my elbows clamped together?"

"Oh, that!" My question was greeted with amusement. "You may never get inside that cage, Celie. For a while I want you close. I'll do all sorts of things to you I'm sure you'll complain about."

"What sorts of things?"

"Small discomforts to teach sulky girls how to behave. They'll improve you very much."

It was all so vague I wasn't getting anywhere. I then asked, "Tell me about Janet. Why is she privileged to walk around completely free?"

"You'll walk around completely free, too, dear. Once you've got over this initial shock. You time in the dingy must have been traumatic, and I'll make all sorts of allowances for you."

"How long will you keep me prisoner?"

"There's no deadlines or dates on Palm Island."

"I'm not a lesbian, I hope that's not a part of it. That's something I won't do."

"If I want you tongue, dear, I'll train you for it. In the meantime, you're not a lesbian."

It seemed silly to continue. My chained hands probably told me all I needed to know. I was curious to know about the "small discomforts" but would probably be happier not knowing. Wearily, I looked at my hostess, "Marjory, can't you understand how much better we could communicate if you gave me back my hands and let me have clothes? Please, Marjory, it's not asking much."

"You'll learn not to ask questions like that, Celie, dear." Marjory poured me another cup of coffee. "We'll get you properly started tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning you'll be whipped for the first time. And after that's been done to you, you'll find yourself seeing everything in a new and clearer light."

"Whipped! I've never been whipped in my life!"

"That's the trouble, dear, we now must make up for lost time. No girl understands herself as female until she's had a session with the cane and the crop. And there's a whip I'll use on you that isn't too severe." Marjory grinned at my pained expression. "Months from now, darling, you'll look back at the moment and the way you're feeling right now and you'll laugh. Take my word for it."

"But you don't simply whip people, not just like that. Not the way you're telling me. In fact, you don't whip people at all. That's illegal." I stared from one to the other in bewilderment.

"Everyone wants to whip a girl. Haven't you heard? Allie's been whipped just for being a girl, haven't you, Allie?"

"I can't count how many times," Allie assured me seriously. "My skin isn't marked right now because Marjory hasn't whipped me for at least a month. She's been whipping some of the other girls." There was her girlish giggled again. "There's marks on Janet from her last time. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

"Allie's my kid sister, Celie. I've got every right to whip her whenever I chose. You and I aren't related, Celie, but it works the same way. Why don't you two girls run off to bed. I'm sure Allie will answer your questions better than I."

It was a dismissal and mention of bed told me I was shockingly tired. Allie and I had no need to undress, we were already naked and I presumed we would sleep that way. With a touch of shyness, Allie brought me up to date. "Marjory's given me the key and made me responsible for you throughout the night," she told me. "I'm afraid I have to move your hands."

I didn't catch on until Allie removed one cuff and quickly gathered my arms behind my back. Before I could struggle, there came the click of handcuffs and I was a prisoner after a very brief bit of freedom. My chance to fight was over almost before I realized it was coming.

"Do you have to do that? I'm so terribly tired of handcuffs."

"You know I do, darling." Her voice was gentle. "You're so new to all of this that you might do something foolish if you had more freedom." She wiggled and looked embarrassed. "Before we go to sleep, Celie, dear, I just have to ask you something. It's simply why you have to make all this fuss about being handcuffed or whipped." She gazed at me yearningly. "Back where you grew up and came from aren't girls naked all the time, and don't they wear lovely handcuffs like I do? And aren't they whipped whenever someone wants to whip them? And whipped again if they've been bad?"

The child was looking at me so earnestly that I caught a glimpse of how she was seeing things. Palm Island was normal and there was nothing unusual about the handcuffs on her wrists. For Allie, Marjory's authority was absolute. "Of course, a girl's not treated like that," I said hotly. "The idea is ridiculous! Marjory gets away with it here because the rest of the world never sees this place. Do you realize, darling, that in the rest of the world Marjory would be considered a criminal and put in prison for years and years. I wish you could understand how wrong it is to rob girls of part of their lives and keep them captives in a cage to be played with because they look so pretty. I don't know why those other girls put up with it, I'm certainly getting out of this situation first chance I get." Allie was looking at me in a way I could only construe as pity. Her locked arms went up over my head and down over my shoulders to clasp me tight.

"Poor, dear, Celie," she whispered, "you've got everything wrong. It's just the outside world that's out of step, not Palm Island."

She wiggled against me delightfully in what I thought might be sympathy. "Celie, I'm going to take off you handcuffs and tie your hands behind your back with some nice, strong cord. It will be something of mine on you, and something you can't get rid of. I think for a girl to have her hands tied is so much less impersonal then handcuffs. But, of course, when Marjory gets you some lovely handcuffs like I wear, you'll fall in love with them the same as me."

Laughingly we disengaged. Without being told to, I held out my hands, but Allie was still Marjory's sister and shook one finger at me. "You're going to be free for a few moments, Celie dear, promise you're going to stand still for me to tie your wrists?"

She was such a darling child I could not resist. I'll admit the thought had crossed my mind of making a dash for the door but inside I surrendered with meek, "Okay, Allie, I promise."

The girl looked at me shrewdly before using the tiny key. I was permitted to stretch my arms a few times before being turned around, my wrists crossed to accept the bit of cord, and to start breathing heavily at the touch of youthful fingers on my skin along with the twists and tugs of the cord as it sealed my hands even more solid than the steel had. Never in my life had I been tied up and this was a strange blend of despair and what I considered an untimely excitation of the senses. Allie did a remarkably competent job, unhindered by linked hands. For Allie I was simply Marjory's property to do with as she chose. With my wrists tight tied, I knew handcuffs would have been more comfortable but did not complain. Instead I turned around and laughed as I said, "I'll bet you've tied up hundreds of girls, Allie. And I'll bet I can never wiggle loose."

"Of course you can't, Celie, dear. I know how to tie a girl's hands. Now, let's get to bed, you must be dead tired."

She pushed me playfully so that I fell back on my freshly bound hands. Joining her in laugher as any couple of girls might do, there was still something on my mind.

"How do you expect me to go to sleep, Allie, when my mind is full of visions of being whipped tomorrow morning? Tell me it isn't going to happen."

"Oh, it will happen, love, and it will be just the way Marjory has promised. You'll feel a lot better afterwards."

"That doesn't make me feel better now." Allie cuddled close, pulling a single cover over out nakedness before thrusting her belly hard against my bound hands. I knew she wanted to reach over and cup my breasts but even she was denied this by the irons she so proudly wore.

We slept.

I didn't enjoy breakfast but Marjory was cheerful and bright about every subject except the one that frightened me half to death. Allie, too, avoided mentioning whips and canes and prompted me to join in on the pleasant clatter the two of them so easily maintained. In order that I feed myself, my wrists were now handcuffed before me, which, after the strictures of the night, made me feel ridiculously free. So far as I could see, those handcuffs were the only bright spot in my day.

I had expected at least a dungeon or something equally appropriate for punishing a girl. But well ahead of time I was taken to Marjory's own bedroom, which appeared to be equipped for many other things besides slumber. Everything was electrically controlled, and when Allie positioned me dead center on a large area of costly rug, I saw no visible menace until she pressed a button on the wall and down from above descended a massive metal cylinder with a cross piece at its bottom that might have been thirty inches across with leather straps and buckles at each end. I did not have to ask its purpose. It was stopped at the level of my eyes so I could watch myself made helpless. Allie unlocked the handcuffs so I was again totally free, but also totally unwilling to do anything about it. As though in a trance, I raised first one hand and then the other, fitting the slenderness of my wrist within the leather cuff while Allie buckled and tugged to insure a snug and almost painful confinement of each wrist. I was quickly left standing naked with hands well secured and well apart and cursing myself for not having put up at least a token fight. I could indeed well believe there was some magic at work on this strange island, and where it now appeared I was the property of a woman named Marjory and her younger sister Allie.

The pressing of a second button above the first caused the bar to rise, taking my arms with it. It did not come to a stop until I was standing with my heels just slightly off the floor and my body nicely stretched. The balls of my feet were still solid on the rug so I would be able to move my body some. I wondered why I was not lifted totally of the floor. That would have seemed more appropriate to the torture of a girl.

"Marjory wants you to have enough room to wiggle and dance about a bit," Allie answered my unspoken question. "She calls sit the expressions of pain, and I've always found it sort of nice when it happens to me. I sure wouldn't want to be tied so I couldn't move at all. Darling, you look simply gorgeous."

The posture in which I was held accentuated everything feminine I possessed from my toes to the fingers. Allie was quick to point out how my figure was enhanced, "Aren't your tits lovely? Mine get the same way, every girl's does, they sort of stick out like that. I've been told the same thing happens when a man makes love to a girl."

There really wasn't much for me to say, it was too late to beg for freedom. Soon Marjory would come with her whips and canes and things, but for a little while the precious moments belonged to Allie and me. I could do nothing but she put her handcuffs over my head to hold me while she wickedly frictioned her nipples against mine, an exercise I found outrageously exciting. It was probably just as well the four girl prisoners choose that moment to come in to watch the newcomer receive her first whipping. None of them were free, a couple had their elbows hard joined behind their backs with Marjory's special clamp, while the rest were simply handcuffed behind their back.

"If they weren't fastened the way you see, they give you the darnedest time," Allie informed wisely. "Their fingers and lips and tongues would give you six orgasms before Marjory and the men arrived."

"Men! What men? No one told me ... "

All of them laughed at my dismay while a fresh voice informed, "George and the gardener always get in on these affairs. They get the damnedest erections and you can bet each one will select a girl to bring it down to size. It's a privilege the men have here on Palm Island. You can bet they'll take you to some private place the first chance they get."

At that moment Marjory arrived and sent Allie to fetch the cook and housemaid. All the servants were native to the islands, and when all were assembled to behold the whipping of a naked girl, they took the whole scene rather casually, as if it were a very common occurrence. I feared it was.

The concern of the men was purely carnal, to be confronted with a naked bound girl would have a predictable result with any male anywhere. George and the garden grinned at me.

Marjory ran her fingers up and down my bare skin, kissed me, and said good morning for the second time. She then manipulated my puss with a firm hand in much the same spirit as she had kissed my lips. She then disappeared in back to say ridiculously, "Celie, dear, I'm going to start off caning your bottom. I hope you don't mind. Here we go."

I had had a good look at the cane and it had seemed innocent enough. But the way it burned itself into my bottom flooded my mind with visions of fictional punishments I had read. I could suddenly recall all those descriptions of how a girl's seat would be branded, scolded, burned, and cut as she received each stroke of the instrument. Marjory's cane was all these things, and more. I hadn't believed such pain existed, or that it would be administered by a girl who had shown evidence of being fond of me. The second impact came while I was still struggling to contain my screams from number one. The cane seemed a living thing, wrapping itself around the contours of my bottom. Obviously I had not previously understood what a bottom was really for. I had just assumed it was a good place to sit on, and to wiggle at men. Lustily I screamed.

Marjory now took a few moments to marshal her prisoners and staff into a semi-circular audience standing close enough to catch every nuance of physical expression I could not control. She paused long enough to once more cup my pussy and pat my cheek, which gave me time to plead, "Please, Marjory, don't so hard! I simply can't bear it ... "

Evidently punished girls were not supposed to plead. Number three and number four were every bit as terrible as number one and two. I found myself doing a frantic dance which in no way made my flesh less accessible. With the fifth stroke I actually raised myself from the floor to contort in mid air. I screamed and pleaded in a manner to soften any heart except the one now marking my skin. After number six, Marjory said gently, "You're making a terrible lot of noise, darling, you'd best be gagged."

At that moment a gag in my mouth was the last thing I desired. But I got gagged anyway in a manner which to me seemed unbelievably awful. In a matter of fact fashion, Marjory removed her scanty briefs and went from girl to girl holding it against their pussy that it might soak up any juices excreted there. When that was performed, the panties were rather wet and smelled of girl.

"Open up, darling, this is a really lovely idea," Marjory said as she held the panties to my lips. "It's a gift from each of us to you. I'm sure you'll be grateful."

"I won't open my mouth, I simply won't. That's too horrible!" I clamped my teeth and drew as far away from the offending wad as possible. But Marjory simply pinched one of my nipples which sent lightning bolts of pain shooting through my body. "When you open your mouth, darling," she informed, "I'll stop. Please do be sensible."

My reaction was exactly as desired. The sudden pain was so terrible I opened my mouth which was immediately stuffed full of the wad. The flavor was not as bad as I had supposed but I was still shamed and disgusted. A moment later a strap was passed between my teeth and buckled very tightly behind my head. My lips were parted, I couldn't make much noise, and words were out of the question.

I flung my head from side to side in futile rebellion before gazing deep into Marjory's eyes which were laughing at the distaste mirrored on my features. My strapped wrists burned as I wiggled this way and that in struggles that did no good.

Suddenly her face was gone and a second later the whipping of my bottom resumed. I could not scream but my lips fought at the leather they could not eject, and which bit the corners of my mouth. By now my bottom was on fire with a blazing I was sure meant blood. I was later disappointed and shocked to find that the whipping had not broken the skin. I received a total of fifteen strokes with the cane. It seemed far more and lasted forever, during which time I have only a recollection of trashing feet and legs and the repeated lifting of my weight from off the rug, frantic efforts that grew slowly weaker as my certainty that I was going to be whipped to death grew stronger.

While I was firmly gagged, everyone else present was free to comment as they chose, and I have to give the girls credit for abstaining from jeers and four letter words. They limited themselves to an appreciation of the artistic qualities of what they be held. Apparently in their eyes my struggling nudity was beautiful beyond imagining, and my sad sounds and the flinging back and forth of my hair held a merit of its own. I suppose each of them was remembering when she had received her first whipping. When the caning of my seat came to an end, the cook fetched coffee in what turned out to be only an intermission. Allie took the gag from between my lips and extracted the shameful wad of panty from my mouth. She held the cup to my lips and I drank thankfully.

When no one left and I still stood with hands above my head, I asked, "Isn't over? Please tell me there isn't anymore."

"It's just half time," Marjory whispered as though bestowing good news. "We're all going to leave you alone for thirty minutes then gather again to watch me whip your breasts and front. It's quite different, and will complete this part of your education. Would you like a shot of something stronger than coffee?"

"Yes, oh, yes! But I can't stand any more. Is my bottom badly cut?"

"It isn't cut at all, you silly girl. It's beautifully marked, if that's what you mean. And there won't be blood on your breasts when I'm finished with them. Here's a shot of brandy."

I drank the brandy and pleaded until threatened with the gag. I was supposed to find it restful to stand as I was to await and to think about the second half of my introduction to Palm Island. Marjory's bedroom was suddenly very quite. Allie only stayed behind to talk to me.

I looked up at strapped wrists and wished I could rip that leather off them. The coffee and the brandy worked miracles and I felt a lot better by the time the second half was ready to begin.

I knew I would no longer contest the gag, it saved me from the shame of screams. No doubt it would be replaced for the second half of my punishment. And that was the only word I could think of to describe it. I kept remembering Allie's laughing assurance that what was being done to me would change my life. And I was forced to admit that the pain given me thus far had indeed made me more receptive to the authority by which Marjory held me enthrall. I tried to sleep but the thirty minutes vanished like a flash and there again was my faithful audience. When Marjory once more inserted the panties into my mouth, I didn't fight it. I accepted the shame and was thankful that I would not scream aloud. When the brutal strap was tight, all I did was toss my head two times as though assuring myself my gag was there to stay. Marjory's gentle whisper, "I'm ready to whip your breasts now, darling," told of the adoration of my naked body. I caught her eyes and found in them only love.

It was worse, much worse, in a way I would not have believed possible. She used a different instrument, a small whip of soft leather but it still scolded my tender flesh in a terrible way. Perhaps the pain was less than what had burned my bottom but a girl is very sensitive about her breasts and to see and feel them being cut by the leather thong was terrible. Sometimes she slashed them across the middle, sometimes the whip came down on my tender globes. And a few strokes even slashed upward to give the under sides of my large breasts marks and pain. I screamed into the panties and lifted myself by strapped wrists to kick wildly at nothing. I flung my body from side to side in useless attempts to escape the horrible pain.

"Open your legs, darling, get them wide apart, we mustn't forget your sex." Marjory's voice was vibrant with joy.

I had no thought to disobey and spread my legs wide open. There came a series of fiery cuts to make me dance in pain again. I could not believe such pain can be experienced in the place that usually gives such pleasure.

I don't remember the count of strokes on my breasts but my pussy took five hard ones, I felt each impact will all of my being. It was the most horrible time of my life.

Thus I was whipped for the very first time.