Chapter 3
Connie
I mean this just isn't possible! I mean. I'm twenty-three and an adult and I've got my own apartment. I know I'm good to look at but I can't possibly be good enough to be kidnapped! I think that's what's happened, I've been kidnapped!
My name is Connie Lipton and I've known this girl quite a while. We've talked about boys. When I say her looking at me the way she does, l just figured she was wondering what I had that she doesn't, although she seemed to me to have everything. I think she put something in the coffee. How else would I be here with my hands tied behind my back! I know it's a lovely bedroom but bedrooms aren't always a good thing for a girl like me, if you know what I mean.
I've been trying to get loose ever since I woke up. I tried the door but it's locked. I just can't get loose these cords around my wrists. I figured I could get loose if I was left alone long enough but up to now I haven't made any progress at all. It's the damndest feeling!
I expect it's white slavery, that's the most likely thing. But I have to wonder how I'm going to adjust. I mean, some bozo walks in here and expects me to spread my legs while he has himself a fun time with my pussy and then gives the money to someone I've never seen. I think I'm in trouble.
I wish someone would come and tell me what it's all about.
Sure, I can fill in the time by trying to get my hands free. But, even if I do get the cords loose, where do I go from there? The door is locked and there is bars on the window. Thanks heaven there is a bathroom. But I can't get these cords off and I suppose that should tell me something. I've been tied by an expert, someone who's accustomed to tying a girl's hands. This doesn't look like a whore house bedroom but I don't know what else it could be. I don't know how I'll take to being a whore but I'm going to find out. Shit!
Someone's coming! Oh. boy, this is it!
She's a pretty girl and she's carrying a cup of coffee, and says, "Hello, Connie, how are you feeling?"
"Lousy. And where am I? And why are my hands tied?"
"All in good time, dear. Here, I'll hold this to your lips. Drink it slowly." I think she's done this before. But I gulp the coffee and it tastes real good.
When I've finished the cup I ask again, "Please untie my hands. I don't know why on earth you ever tied them."
"To keep you safe, dear. We don't want you going around smashing things or hurting yourself."
"Am I in a whore house?"
She actually laughs.
"No, you're not in a whore house, Connie. But you are a prisoner and you'll have to get used to the idea. We've kidnapped you and you'll never be free again."
"Who's we?"
"The Sensuality Club, dear, we found out about you so I'm pretty sure you've heard about us."
The name didn't mean much to me. I looked at the pretty girl who was holding the empty cup and demanded, "So, okay, you've kidnapped me. What do you want me for? Why shouldn't I go to the police?"
"You won't go to the police because you can't. And we want you because we enjoy possessing a beautiful young woman to do with as we wish. You'll get used to the idea."
"I won't! I want out. Untie my hands."
That didn't get me anywhere. The lovely creature said, as though I had been a real pain in the neck. "It will be a shock, I know. We allow for that. But just to shorten this period of questions and answers and wondering, I'm going to put you in with a girl we've owned for quite a while. She'll clue you in on everything."
I'm only a little scared, nothing bad the way I ought to be. But right off this dame tells me her name is Dorothy Dawson and she's going to remove my clothes which makes me think maybe I'm in a whore house after all.
"I've already had one bath today, thank you," I tell her real polite. "But if you'll untie my hands, I'll undress myself. What do you want me undressed for anyway?"
She smiles real sweet and says like she's talking to some kid, "Girls like you don't need clothes, dear." She comes up with a pair of scissors. "I have to snip a few bits and pieces to get you undressed. I'm sure you won't mind."
"Of course I'll mind. This dress cost me twenty-nine ninety-five on sale ... .
"You'll never wear it again, Connie, so it doesn't matter. You'll never wear anything again. Now just hold still."
I'm actually holding still, I mean this is crazy! About all she has to use the scissors for is shoulder straps and I watch those fall away like I simply don't believe. Then she pulls things down and down until everything's tumbled around my shoes and then they get yanked off, too, and the whole bundle gets put away in a draw. Suddenly I'm sitting on the bed stark naked. What's more, I can't cover anything, I've got no hands. I tell Dorothy Dawson this is for the birds and she says she knows how I feel but it's all a case of getting adjusted and they'll allow me lots of time. All the while she's doing this her eyes are simply eating me up.
I don't mind another girl seeing me bare, I've got nothing to be ashamed of. I know I'm nice and grade A with a nice tight waist and really lovely tits so I have to suppose if this isn't a whore house, the club she mentioned has to be for a bunch of lesbians. But the way this girl is looking at me, I'm surprised my pussy hair doesn't go up in smoke. And I realize that all this time I've been twisting and turning my wrists to try and cover up what matters but I'm beginning to doubt if I'll ever cover up anything again.
"This way, dear." This Dorothy Dawson takes my arm. "This is going to be real good for you, and you'll love darling Angelique. She's really sweet and we've owned her long enough so she's become very wise about everything. I'm very glad you're not being difficult."
The first I get to see of this Angelique dame is through bars. She's sitting on a wooden bench and safely locked in what looks like one of those prison cells you see on the TV. Her arms are behind her back same as mine, and she's stark naked, same as me. And I wouldn't say she looks all that happy. Her smile is nice but it's like she turns it one with reservations. As far as her looks go, she's a whiz. Dorothy Dawson opens the cell door, shoves me inside, then locks it again and goes away. I stand there with my hands behind my back.
"Your name's Connie, I'm Angelique," says the girl on the bench in the nicest voice. "I'd give you a hug because I think you could use one but we're not allowed to have hands." She got up and turned around so I could see how her wrists were handcuffed. "We're not allowed to have our feet, either. We have to wear leg irons." She kicked at the silver chain between her ankles to show me how short it was. "It's not as awful as it seems at first. A girl gets used to it." She came to me and gave me a real nice, sisterly sort of kiss. "We're both slavegirls, Connie. Come and sit down."
Seeing Angelique walk back and forth that way showed me why that lovely nakedness was doubly effective. They had got the most beautiful belt thing I've ever seen locked snug around her waist and a similar sort of thing around her neck. I felt certain she couldn't get them off. Maybe no one else could, either. It wasn't hard to figure why they had rings at the back. Those rings would make it easy to fasten Angelique to most anything. I sat close beside her on the bench and asked right off, "What do I have to do to go home?"
"You never will go home and neither will I. They've owned me a year now and I don't ever expect to escape."
"But surely you've tried!"
"How could I? I've been handcuffed and leg-ironed the way you see me now almost since day one."
I was picking up messages, none of them good. I now saw something I didn't like at all. "You've been whipped! Those marks on your skin!"
"It happens. You get whipped at the start because they have to teach you things. Then, as you learn, they demand more and more in the way of obedience. If you slip up, or get lippy because you're mad, you get whipped for that, too. It's not a fun thing, at least not for the girl being whipped. But don't worry about it, you won't die."
"I'm lippy, I know I'm lippy."
"In that case you can expect to be whipped a lot."
She smiled again and shrugged. "We have to try and see it their way. If a girl won't conform, what else can they do?"
"They've broken your spirit."
"Maybe. The Sensuality Club calls it 'getting me properly trained'." Once more the lovely smile which is also a little bit sad. "The club has at least twenty-five members and I've been passed around to all of them at one time or another. They can do anything they want except injure me. You fall in love with half of them, they're so sweet. The other half comes in all types. It took me quite a long time to accept the fact I'm a slave. I don't like the word but don't know what else to use. The girls call you all sorts of names like 'pet', or 'damsel in distress', or 'property'. Some of them do actually call you slave or slavegirl. I'm chained. I'm naked. And I do what I'm told."
"Don't any of them feel ashamed for treating us like this?"
"They overcome that by keeping us in really marvelous luxury. This cell is a punishment thing and it's the first time I've been in it. I guess we're here because it's a good place to keep us while we talk."
Holy Cow, was I ever getting the low down! I sat on that bench and listened to the most beautiful girl and wondered what I would look like after I've been a prisoner a whole year like she had. It was like the handcuffs behind her back and those silvery irons on her feet had become a part of her, I mean the way she moved and everything. It was like she didn't even know she was chained. She saw me shiver.
"You're scared of being the way I am, I can tell," Angelique says quietly. "They've kept me handcuffed like this the whole year now and you notice how I've come to accept it as natural. I think they've been clever in this because keeping me handcuffed has told me better than anything else how totally I belong to the Sensuality Club. It's because I can't do anything for myself. I'm so dependent on one of them. You'll be the same way."
Angelique was really a dish and I wished I had my arms so I could love her to bits. I could see how nice it would be to have a girl like that chained and naked to make love to and know she would do whatever you wanted her to. A voice whispered in my ear that I'd be that way soon, myself. But I shut it up real quick and told myself it might happen to other girls but not me. I mean, I simply couldn't believe any of it even though I was locked in a cell behind bars with a chained girl who was trying to save me from getting my ass whipped for being the way I am. I simply had to ask, "This whipping business, how do they go about it?"
Angelique shrugs like we're talking about the weather. "You can stand still and take it, or they may want you to bend over and get it on your seat. If they're going to be really mean, they hoist you hands up behind your back so you have to bend forward and that gives them everything you've got to work on. It's beautifully simple." She saw the expression on my face. "Don't worry about those awful things you've read about, the club doesn't use them. What they do use hurts plenty but doesn't break the skin. When they cane your bottom, that's a part of a girl designed for the purpose. It's padded and bouncy. There's been quite a collection of instruments they've used on me."
"Don't you scream?"
"Sometimes. It depends on whether the girl who is whipping you wants you to scream or take it in silence. If she wants silence, she gags you."
"Sounds like torture to me."
"Not really, in fact I sometimes think there's a terrible beauty about it. Look, I might as well tell you there's going to be a show put on this afternoon just for your benefit. And, of course, it will be a sort of get acquainted thing for you. You will be the main attraction but I'll be up on the stage with you. I'm going to be whipped."
That is a real zinger. I stand and stare, and finally come out with, "What on earth for?"
"The mistress I had last week figured I insulted the man she gave me to one afternoon. At least he claimed I did and that was enough to get me sentenced. The only reason it hasn't happened yet is they've been keeping my skin for you to watch as a demonstration." She smiled cheerfully enough. "They think that if you see me being whipped, they'll not have to whip you as much. It's probably a good idea."
"It's crazy. I won't let it happen!"
"What can you do about it, dear?"
She's right, there's nothing I can do about it. And Angelique certainly can't do anything, either. Suddenly this cell seems smaller but I get an inspiration. "Look," I say, "I'm not handcuffed the way you are, if we back up against each other you can use your hands to untie mine and then I can put up a fight and maybe get somewhere."
"It wouldn't do any good," Angelique tells me sorrowfully. "So much of this is testing us, if I did get your hands free, what could you do anyway? We're both still locked in this cell and would be punished for our act." She gives a terrible, resigned shrug. "I doubt if I could get those tight knots out anyway. Just take it easy and let things happen."
Things happened but not in any way I had dreamed of. I mean, if some bozo came in and beat us both us I would realize how much trouble we were both in. But it wasn't like that at all. This Dorothy Dawson dame comes and unlocks the door and says she's sure we had a lovely talk and Angelique will show me around before lunch. I must have looked the way I felt because Angelique bursts out laughing and tells me she knows how I'm feeling and not to worry because Dorothy Dawson's lunches are very good, indeed. I walk with her out of that cell into absolute luxury.
It's a beautiful house full of beautiful things, way beyond anything I could ever afford. We have to walk slow because of Angelique's chained feet. She shows me around as if she owns the play until she takes me into lunch to sit at a table with Dorothy. A black girl stands between us to spoon stuff into our mouths and hold cups to our lips. Once I got over the embarrassment, everything tasted marvelous and I could see what Angelique meant. There was also some wine and I drank all of it the black girl would let me have. But the time I finished a fine lunch, I no longer cared whether my hands were tied behind my back or not. Just shows you, doesn't it!
I'm not sure I like this standing on the stage with twenty-five girls staring at my snatch, but Angelique seems unconcerned and moves around with that easy grace she has. Dorothy Dawson gives a little talk and displays me from every angle, and I would kick her in the crotch if I thought it would do any good, if fact I'd kick all their silly faces if I got the chance. But I take my clue from Angelique who knows a lot more about these situations than I do. So I listen to the oh's and ah's over my tits and the color of my hair, and then I get stood to one side and told to stand still and watch.
Poor Angelique! Holy Cow, I'm not believing what I'm seeing! Angelique takes up a position in the center of the stage and a rope comes down from up above and is hooked onto her handcuffs which are then raised up and up until she's bending over with her bottom sticking out behind. Dorothy then gets the damndest looking cane and slashes that bottom as though she's mad at it. Angelique gasps and makes noises with her chain as she kicks one foot. After a couple more strokes, which leave the damndest marks on that lovely skin, Angelique gets turned around so as to give the audience a different view before Angelique gets three more of the same. I can see her face now and know she's really hurting as each blow lands on her soft flesh. When she gets turned again, and gets four, I can tell she's having a hard time and trying very hard not to scream. I guess she's not suppose to scream or she would have. I would have screamed my head off right from the start.
They lower Angelique's arms. I give a sigh of relief and I guess Angelique does, too. Her bottom is blazing red and she gets turned this way and that so the membership can get their jollies. I'm shivering as though it's cold. I figured this would be the end but it isn't. Angelique gets hoisted up again and this time her arms are pretty near straight up so she has to be in agony. It's a new whip this time, a wicked thing Dorothy swishes around a bit before striking the first blow across Angelique's back. It leaves a wicked red line and Angelique screams. I was right about Angelique not suppose to scream because the whipping stops long enough for a strange looking collection of straps and rubber and metal can be shoved into her mouth and buckled tight behind her neck. Angelique can't do anything, she's hurting too bad to move. Dorothy picks up the whip and goes back to work.
Angelique can't really scream but she sure makes a lot of noise through her nose and around that thing filling her mouth. I get the idea they don't want to leave her stretched up that way too long because the whip strokes across her back are must faster than the cane strokes had been. She had ten with the cane and now ten with the whip. And they didn't lose any time letting her arms half way down. I guess it didn't matter about the gag now because she isn't going to scream anyway. But they left it in her mouth and let her stand there several minutes, all wet with sweat and still bent over enough to be uncomfortable. She kept turning her head from side to side and I'm sure she was longing to get that gag out of her mouth. I stand there feeling foolish and working at my bound hands and wondering how all this can happen just because of a bit of cord around my wrists. But even though my arms weren't strung up behind, I was every bit as helpless as Angelique.
The twenty-five girls were now chattering away with cocktails, so Dorothy Dawson took the rope completely off Angelique's arms and the gag from her mouth.
"Go down and join their fun, darlings," she said to us both, brightly. "It's over now." For a moment she looked from me to Angelique and back. "We all hope you've learned a lesson. Did you?"
What a hell of a thing to ask! But I mumbled that, yes, I had learned a lesson, and secretly realized that I had. There was no way I wanted to be whipped the way poor Angelique had been. Angelique said, yes, she had learned her lesson and thank you very much, Dorothy. Then I'll be damned if the whip wasn't held up to her lips and she kissed is as if she meant it. We then went down and joined the girls.
Angelique gave me a little grin that told me not to worry and showed me the marks on her back and bottom, which I swear were getting darker every moment. It was easy to figure that even if a girl only got whipped only once a month, she'd always have some marks on her skin some place. As we went down together, Angelique positively swamped me in her sweat smell, and her lovely female scent hovered around us like a cloud. I wondered if the other girls could smell it too as they clustered around and made a tremendous fuss telling us how beautiful we were and holding cocktails to our lips. I gulped down as fast as I could. They made a big thing out of examining Angelique's handcuffs and my bit of cord. There were comments about how marvelous they made us look and how we could never escape. They all knew Angelique but I seemed to be a curiosity and they made me spread my legs and bend over and all sorts of things so they could get acquainted with my tits and pussy and bottom. Some went overboard about my breasts and others about my ass. They all agreed it would be nice for me to be leg-ironed the same as Angelique. After they got me half-way pickled, they made me go back on the stage and stand facing them while they had a draw to see which of them got me first. Angelique didn't get in on this because Dorothy Dawson owned her for the present and she wouldn't be moving on for a week or two. They made her turn her back to the glass bowl in which the names were neatly folded on little slips of paper. She reached in with cuffed hands and picked the winner. The name on the slip was Muriel Scobie.
This has to be crazy! I mean, this Sensuality Club thing is absolutely out of this world. This idea about owning a girl, which is me, is way far out! I keep wishing I owned a few of them and get them to understand what a hell of a deal this is for the girl they make their prisoner (that's me again). And then there's Muriel Scobie, who's something else again. She says she loves me very much and I can call her Mu. Her way of getting this idea across is to cane my ass.
Muriel is sweet and she's a beauty like the rest of them, and she's all fired up about making me over into a slavegirl who will turn out just like Angelique. When she gets me back to her place, she sits me down and talks real serious about how I'm going to have to be real submissive and obedient, and please her pussy. I act like I'm taking it all in but secretly I'm saying to myself, "Up yours, Lady!" And I wonder a bit if she is ever going to untie my hands.
There's been so much of everything that I'm all in a dither. First off there's this business about Muriel Scobie taking me home. I figured that I'd be drugged or tied up in the trunk or laced up in a sack or something, but I'm damned if I don't get to sit in the front seat besides Mu and all they do to keep me what they call "behaving" is tie my ankles together so damned tight it hurts. I sit there pretty, and naked, and all tied up while we take quite a long while to get where we're going. And, believe it or not, no one even notices me! There's cars and people and even an occasional police car. But no one can see I'm tied up and Muriel has a thing she calls a cattle prod. If I start making faces out the window to attract attention, she holds this thing against me and I go wild until she switches off the current. I only did it a couple of times but that was enough. I sit still like a good little girl and listen to whatever she has to talk about, and hope she'll untie my hands when we get home. Muriel doesn't answer my question about my hands. I guess it was a silly question.
More luxury! These girls are all loaded. After she's untied my ankles, Muriel puts a collar on my neck and leads me on the grand tour. Gee, I should be so lucky. Muriel then sits me on a couch and from the way her eyes are shinning, I know she's up to something.
"Connie, dear, I'm so lucky to have you. And I want this first evening together to be something we'll both remember all our lives. Right now your hands are tied with a piece of rope but I'm going to fix you up with some lovely handcuffs and a bit of beautiful chains for your ankles. That way we'll both know where you're at and we'll both get a proper felling of permanence."
Muriel has lovely reddish hair and green eyes and lovely white skin. The way her dress sticks out in front tells me she also has tits. But she's left me in no doubt I'll get a good look at everything she's got when she's ready to show. This moment evidently means a great deal and she's sort of looking at me hopefully as if expecting a speech. I'm still clutching at the idea of an escape so I ask meekly, "Couldn't I stay tied as I am? I couldn't possibly do anything you wouldn't approve of?"
That one doesn't get answered, either. Muriel gleefully upends a box on the rug to show me the damndest collection of shinning metal I've ever seen. It scares the shit out of me just to look at it. But she's almost breathless with excitement which gets me to feeling excited too and wondering what it will feel like to wear this stuff.
She then ties my ankles again so when she unties my hands I won't be a problem. To emphasis this, she grabs a handful of my hair and shakes my head gently. "Connie, dear, don't ever make me be cruel. All I want of you is simply obedience. Be a good girl."
I wanted to tell Muriel that being a good girl means different things to different people and the last thing I want is to be her kind of a good girl. I really want to run but I don't think I'll be doing much with my feet tied. I say very simply, "Sure, Muriel, I know what you mean. I'll behave. What would you like me to do now?"
"Stand up, dear, your ankles will hurt but it won't be for long."
She's right, my ankles hurt as I stand watching her sort out the lovely, wicked things by which I will be robbed of freedom for the rest of my life— that's the way the girls tell it but I don't believe. Muriel chooses a pair of handcuffs and, even though I don't know anything about handcuffs, they look terribly expensive and terribly small. The two sets of jaws are joined by a single link which is a strong and heavy as all the rest. I'm sure that once they're locked on a girl, she's had the course. Muriel unties my hands.
It feels so damned good I actually say thank you. She lets me massage my wrists a bit and stretch my arms. It's so lovely I forget it may be for the last time in my life. If I had any ideas about putting up a fight, Muriel made it plain I had better not by keeping hold of my hair and making it clear that she could break my neck any time she wanted. Her voice was vibrating with some sort of passion as she ordered, "Put your arms behind your back, dear. This is so wonderful!"
Mu's got me going! I get a bit breathless, too, and really gasp when the cold metal goes around my wrist and there comes the click, click. The final click make the circlet really snug. By the time Muriel had done that to both hands, she really had me going, I entirely forgot she was using her own hands on the cuffs and no longer holding my hair. I could have made a fuss. But by the time the last click came it was too late, so I just stood there sort of bemused while my ankles hurt and I got some of the hottest kisses I've ever know from the girl who said I now belonged to her. I was clenching and unclenching my fists and fingering the shinning metal. Boy, talk about creepy!
The next thing was to sit down while Muriel made up her mind about which of the chain things she would lock on my legs. The ones she had were different from the ones Angelique had on, Angelique had told me hers were the regular police thing except for the shorting chain. But Muriel was telling me she had these made special and they were a lot heavier and a lot more beautiful than they could be. I said they were lovely and thank you very much. How crazy can I get!
Seems like my chained ankles were going to be really something. They had been made to fit just exactly without that click, click, click effect. Muriel told me, and I knew this meant a lot to her, that no one but she could take them off because there was only one key, and she also said that they had been made out of a special steel that couldn't be cut. As long as I was wearing them, she said, I could kiss freedom goodbye! The chain between my ankles was the same length as Angelique and I wondered if I would ever be able to walk as nicely as she or if I would forever be falling on my face. There was a really heartbreaking snap whenever a circlet snubbed tight on my ankle. There was a message in those clicks, a message I picked up for sure. Muriel had untied the rope on my ankles in ordered to make the change and I hadn't even kicked or anything, and I knew I was going to be sorry.
She now puts everything in the box and puts the box away and tells me to practice walking around the room. She's still looking at me as through I'm something good to eat.
A little voice inside my head was whispering, "This is it, you've had it. This is the way it's always going to be." I rattled my handcuffs and kicked the chain joining my ankles to make one snub the other. And then I took my first step into something I was finding hard to believe. On my first trip around the room I stumbled twice. Everything was wrong and out of balance. To be like this always ... ? It's awful when you fall and have no hands. With my ankles chained together the way they were, it was even hard to get up. Gosh, when I think of the way I used to leap around! Anyway, the next round I fell over only once, and the third round I managed to make without error. But with my hands linked and my ankles linked the way they were I never felt so helpless in my life. I wanted to cry, so I went ahead and cried. I'm very pretty when I cry and a few tears often helps. I got myself kissed and hugged by a delighted girl who wasn't much older than I. Muriel licked up my tears and told me how good they tasted and I should cry some more. So, of course, I stopped. She said we could now go to the kitchen and she would make coffee. She said she had a black girl for a maid but the girl had gone home so we had the place to ourselves, and wasn't that lovely.
"You mustn't try to ask my maid for help, she won't do it." Muriel was playing very gently with my nipples, as though to show me how good captivity could be. "Dinky will do lots of things for you in this house if you ask her nicely, but if you keep bothering her to get off your chains, you'll have to be punished. You saw poor Angelique get punished today. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"Gosh, no!" I had never been more sincere in my life. "Please don't ever whip me, I couldn't bear it. I nearly died watching poor Angelique getting marked up. And that awful position being sort of hung up backwards—well!"
Getting to the kitchen was an adventure, my longest journey with chained feet. But Muriel keep hold of my arm and I got there in one piece. Muriel had something waiting for me. The leather collar had snap fasteners and was easy to fix on my neck. I had no hands and couldn't touch it or remove it. There was a leash attached about five feet long and at the end of it a snap, which now got clipped to a ring in the wall. I realized that ring was there for just that purpose.
"I've got rings all around the house to attach you to, darling," Muriel assured me as if I ought to feel pleased. "Rings stop you having to worry about what to do. Once you're clipped to them there's nothing you can do except behave. It's just a leather leash and collar."
I got a charge out of sitting there all naked and helpless while Muriel did the work. But I was embarrassed when she had to lift the cup to my lips so I could drink. Boy, I wished I had my hands. In between drinks I realized I couldn't even get up and leave the room. The collar and leash would keep me right where I was. I couldn't even get up and walk to the sink. I guess Muriel read my thoughts because she whispered, "You'll get used to it, Connie, after a while everything will fall into place. We'll all help you be happy. Please don't worry about being whipped, there's only some of the girls go for that in a big way. The rest of us would rather not. Don't stop smiling."
"But I'll never be as good as Angelique," I wailed, "she moves around as if she's not fastened at all. And she never trips or anything. I don't see how she could possibly deserve to be whipped like you did to her."
"I told you to forget about the whip, Connie."
"I'll never forget it," I sniffed unhappily. "I know it is going to happen to me sometime so I can't forget it, but I'll try." Maybe the coffee was acting as a stimulate or the cocktails were getting to me, because I dived right in, "Please tell me the real reasons I've been made prisoner. What are you girls going to do to me?"
I must have sounded real down because Muriel comes around and kisses me and pants me and tells me everything is going to be all right, and gives me another slug of coffee before she goes back to her chair and tells me she'll do her best to make me understand. I have to like her because she seems to like me so much.
"The Sensuality Club adores girls and that's what it's all about," Muriel said seriously. I know she hoped I was listening. "In a little while you and I are going to bed and I suppose you know what you're going to have to do? Tell me you know."
"Isn't that something we should do as it happens, I mean sort of let things' flow as they will ... ? And can I even do it properly without hands?"
"Angelique does it beautifully and wonderfully. What you've just said is right enough, darling, but you're forgetting there are twenty-five girls who love you and who you're going to love. Nobody's going to stand over you with a whip."
"I'll blow it for sure. What happens then?"
"Nothing, we'll try again."
"And if I tell you I hate the whole idea and don't want any part of it?"
"If you insisted, you'd have to be trained."
"You mean I'd be whipped until I agreed to nibble you where you want it?"
"Darling, you're being negative. Don't you like me?"
She had me there! Sure I liked her. And because I was so bound up I needed her badly. Every time she put her arms around me and kissed me, it felt real good and took away the fears. I had to admit, "Okay then, I'll try to be the way you want. I never used to be that way—you know—with a girl, but I'll try. We've all heard about it, haven't we? It's not as if I didn't know."
"Honey, you'll do fine, Connie, I know you will. You'll taste good. And I know I taste good, I've been told over and over." She looked across at me with such lovely, anxious eyes I positively melt. "Why don't we take going to bed for granted, stop thinking about it."
"Okay, but that's not the only reason I'm sitting here naked and chained and being told I'll never be free again. It can't be!"
"The most important reason is something you'll find hard to understand. You see, the club is a group or girls who all possess what is called a sexual aberration. It's very simple. Because we're all the same, we all adore owning a girl like you. Owning Angelique has given us more happiness than you can ever imagine. We love your nakedness and the handcuffs we put on you, and the irons on your ankles. We loved Angelique so much we bought her that collar and belt you've seen on her. She has to wear them because she can't get them off. None of us can, either." She giggles like a kid. "Having you around like that all the time keeps us horny as hell."
"That doesn't give you the right to keep me a prisoner, to take me away from my life, and chain me."
"Perhaps not. But look at it this way, darling, think of all the canaries in cages, and all the puppy dogs on leashes, and all the other pets people keep because they love them. Whether it's right or wrong everyone believes that the pets are a lot happier being owned than running around. It's sort of a natural state. Angelique was a member of the club and we trapped her into being what she is. She had things good before we made her prisoner, but with you it's different. We can give you so much you never had. If Angelique is happy, they we can make you happy, too."
"I don't think either of us is really and truly happy. I'll bet Angelique wasn't the least bit happy when you whipped her."
"There's bad and good for everyone. The club figures that if we can give Angelique more good than bad, we don't need to have a guilty conscious. That's the way it is."
I digested slowly. I mean, it wasn't all that much of a shock. I'd done some figuring on my own and when I was out and around I had read books and talked to all sorts of people, and I even ran into a fellow who wanted me to tie him up and whip his ass! I told him where to go but I always wondered. This Sensuality Club was the same thing in reverse.
"I don't see why you get a charge out of keeping my wrists handcuffed behind my back."
"We do. Don't tell me you don't get some sort of sensation out of it yourself. Come on, Connie, be honest."
She's right, of course. But I'd been putting any sensations I'd felt down to the business of belonging to twenty-five girls with their twenty-five pussies all waiting for me. But when I saw Angelique moving around and seen her whipped, and then the way she'd talked to me in the cell, I could see what Muriel was talking about. Sure, it was far out but it was there.
"Why don't you girls put on a pair of handcuffs sometime so you prisoner can get the hots, too?" I asked innocently.
"That's impertinence, Connie, a month from now it can get you whipped."
It was a damned funny feeling to realize how these girls wanted me and the way I'd have to behave."
"Is that the reason you keep us helpless?"
I pout and look sad. "So you can do anything you want with us anytime? I pretty girl who can't do a thing to defend herself and can't run away, and who's scared shitless of saying the wrong word? It's not much fun for the girl, is it?"
I bothered Muriel, I could tell. She shrugged my question away without an answer but I got the message. If I had been a prisoner a month and said something like that, I'd get a scolded ass for sure. I tried another direction, "I guess part of what you're saying is Angelique and I won't ever get a man again, is that the way of it, Mu?"
"Some of the girls have boyfriends and it's amusing to make a gift of Angelique to the guy for maybe an hour or so, sort of on loan, although he can do what he likes with her. I expect it will work the same with you so you'll get to see a man again, whether you want to or not. You don't have to worry about that with me but some of the other club members get a real bang out of it."
I let the man thing go, I was learning fast. In a half-assed sort of way it all made sense. The club had fingered out a way to give them all a lot of pleasure for the price of a bit of chain. And their conscious wouldn't bother them too much because they figured they were being kind to their pretty pet. I tried again, "Hasn't Angelique tried to escape? It doesn't make sense not to try."
Muriel grins and pours more coffee. "Angelique hasn't tried because she's never had a chance. And you won't have a chance, either, dear. We keep both of you with your hands and feet fastened and helpless twenty-four hours a day. After a while you'll get used to the idea."
That looked after that. But I still wasn't believing anything. It was all just too damned much. I wiggled my handcuffed arms around to where I could see the metal circlet on my wrist and complained, "I don't see why you couldn't handcuff us in front. Or maybe not handcuff us at all. We can't do much with our feet joined. If you keep me handcuffed like this for a year, I'll go crazy."
"No you won't. But we're not doing it to you just to be mean. The club thinks it's doing something absolutely unique with its prisoners. We think we've invented a captivity for a girl that's never been done before."
"Even in ancient times they never kept a girl's hands cuffed behind her back that long."
Muriel grinned at my comment. "We're making history."
"At the risk of going to prison for most of your life?"
"That's the icing on the cake, darling. None of us thinks it will ever happen but that's a panty-wetting thrill in knowing it just could. Nothing really good ever happens without risk."
"But you talk about some girl making a present of me to a man. Why wouldn't that guy talk? To his friends. Your secret isn't a secret at all."
Poor, dear Muriel, I think she's finding me a pain in the ass. But she puts it to me straight, "Have it your way, darling. Let's say the police walk in here right now, would you lay a charge against me and send me to prison? Think about it seriously. Would you do that?"
If I hadn't been aware of the handcuffs before, I was doubly aware of them now. Muriel was right, I couldn't possibly bear the thought of sending her to prison. I'd love to be free, of course, but not at the expense of putting her behind bars for years and years and years. Gosh, what a jackpot I'm in!
I get bathed. I can't do it myself so Muriel gets in the tub with me. I can tell by the way she popped off her clothes she does it all the time with girls. She's also very beautiful and I begin to feel hot between my legs because anyway you look at it a beautiful girl is a beautiful girl. We're suppose to get men all hot and bothered but I guess it works both ways. I know the bed isn't that far away and I'm trying not to think about it. For a girl with chained feet, even getting in the bath is a problem. Muriel shows me how to sit on one corner and sort of throw my joined feet up and over the edge. The chain makes the damndest clatter but she says not to worry. Golly, I'm so damned helpless!
I have to admit it's fun. Muriel soaps and wets us both until we're covered with lather. Then she rubs her breasts against mine until we're breathing fast and then she switches to down below and my pussy gets soaped like never before. She knows there's nothing I can do but just stand so that what I do as she gets me more and more in the mood. After a while she gets me going so I no longer care about the handcuffs or the shackles on my feet. This is the best bath ever!
We have just as much fun getting dry. When she's through with me, she takes a ribbon and fixes my hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get in the way. I'm pretty sure I know what that mean.
When Muriel gets me to the bedroom I'm scared. I've never done that before and don't want to. But I don't have to be all that smart to know I don't have a choice. On a chair there rests a long, thin cane. Muriel doesn't mention it but it's there. I've never been caned in my life but I can almost feel its cut. I'm told to sit on the bed.
The collar is like the one I had to wear in the kitchen but the tether is chain that trails off under the bed where I guess it's fastened to the floor. It's a real long chain, but I can't walk far from the bed. Muriel explains she had to know I'm safe while she's asleep. I suppose she's right but I'm have to ask if this collar and chain won't spoil what we're going to do. She says, no it won't, and the way it moves around on our skin while we get in position is a real turn-on. Muriel pushes me over on my back so I have to lay on one forearm. Then she pushes my feet back against my bottom and pushes my knees apart and I suddenly realize that for now I'm not going to do it but she's going to do it to me. I have to love Muriel for being so thoughtful and knowing how scared I was and how this would be a good way to get me broken in. The handcuffs hurt and so did the steel on my ankles because I had to pull them apart real hard.
All of a sudden she was kneeling between my legs and looking down at me with shinning eyes and face all flushed. When she lowered herself down, she dove right in and began. I was taunt and actually glad to be fixed the way I was so I didn't have to make up my mind about anything. Muriel would do it all for me.
Did she ever!