Two females watched him use the tiny key, both of us a bit breathless. While I massaged pink skin, my owner barked at the intruder. “Stick it out!”
At first I was miffed at seeing my own personal handcuffs on another woman’s wrist, but in that moment there was such an intensity of feeling between the three of us I saw only Margo’s enraptured face and a sudden vista of advantage: Whatever venom Hugo expended on this willing recruit might easily mean fewer stripes for me. Perhaps if I played my cards right...! I nursed the thought in growing satisfaction.
We got her story. Her name was Margo Hammil, she was alone, and her main problem seemed to be a husband she had just divorced. “I really did love the guy,” she explained earnestly. “But he loved me so much he let me have my way in everything. He wasn’t a wimp but I found myself making all the decisions while actually longing for him to knock me around a bit and make me pay attention to him as a man. She sighed, “I suppose the whole trouble was he loved me far too much and didn’t know a damn thing about girls. Even when we made love, he was so damned careful and considerate I could scream. I know it’s silly but that’s where I’m at right now.” She raised her left wrist to examine the shinning chrome now locked on her, a grateful smile on her face. “You’ve no idea what this means to me, I owe you both a hundred thank you’s.”
We took her home with us. Hugo did not abandon me for his new possession. Once inside his house, he lost no time in unlocking one of the cuffs from our visitor’s wrist and snapping it tight to one of the rings in the living room wall. He then grasped my arm and led me to his office. The backwards glance I took showed me an absorbed woman who would stand exactly where she was until Hugo used his key, a delighted young woman playing with a new toy.
The first thing Hugo said upon reaching his office was, “Take your clothes off, Diane, remember this is still one of your slave days.”
I stripped myself bare for my master’s pleasure, thinking all the time of the girl downstairs. To be naked before a man no longer bothered me. In fact, I was discovering a lot of advantages to being naked. It simplifies so much. In the rapport which had grown so strong between us, I turned my back to him and crossed my wrists. Neither of us had said a word or spoke while he knotted the thin cord again and again to rob me of my arms. When I was effectively his prisoner, he waved me to the chair to make me a naked client neatly bound while facing her owner across the desk. It all seemed very natural and very comfortable and I knew I would not want to part with it.
“What the devil am I going to do with the damned girl!” Hugo actually sounded unhappy in the face of such good fortune. “Should I take her seriously?”
“Use that riding crop good and hard on her bottom and send her back to her husband.”
“But they’re divorced.”
“That may be, but send her back to him anyway. If you make her seat as sore as you’ve made mine, she’ll be a changed woman. And if that idiot husband can’t read a message out of the way you’ll mark her skin, he has to be hopeless. I hope you enjoy having me tied this way.”
“You know I enjoy it. Don’t be pert. Hasn’t it occurred to you I might as well expend my energies on our pretty prisoner instead of on you. This would leave you free to really apply yourself to my claim. You don’t really enjoy getting your bottom cropped, do you?”
It was my own thought exactly. Margo Hammil had arrived with almost perfect timing to make me free, free, free! I wondered why I didn’t feel happier but put it down to female jealously. She was wearing my handcuffs and I wanted them back.
I think girls sometimes loose their wits. Without any great show of enthusiasm. “Are you offering me freedom? My vow is canceled?”
“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re my lawyer, not a bottom to be cropped every day. Aren’t you pleased?”
“Of course I’m pleased but it seems too good to be true.” I twisted against Hugo’s twine which seemed unusually tight. Then I made the craziest admission of my life. “I’m going to miss the things ... The things we’ve done together. Please don’t let that girl steal my handcuffs.”
I sat there, naked, my hands behind my back, like an unloosed flower. Hugo was suddenly eyeing me with an interest he had never previously shown. He laughed. “Then don’t say anything is forever. Tomorrow is you day at the office - no beatings, no bondage. I’ll amuse myself with our lovely new plaything while you get busy against the Estate. The day after you can either go to the office or offer your wrists to be handcuffed. Think about it, sweetheart, I’ll be amused at what you come up with.”
I wished now I’d been quiet, but that was to be expected. Hugo was being generous but only because of the girl handcuffed to the wall downstairs. But anyway I looked at it. I came out the winner, and a whole day for Hugo to play with his now toy and for me to discover myself must surely bring the two of us safely over the hurdle of indecision. I allowed myself to be led to our bedroom where I accepted the collar and chain on my neck without demure and watched my master go to deal with that incredibly lovely and sexy woman downstairs.
For the first, and perhaps the last, time in my life I enjoyed bound hands and collared neck. I told myself crossly it was only because I knew I would soon be free of them. But I knew it more than that. Everything that had happened to me since my first visit to Plessious had changed me. And I was glad. I sat on the side of the bed, dangling my legs like a little girl awaiting the arrival of authority. I had no need to test the length of my tether for I knew it already. Knew, also, that I could never free my hands so might as well enjoy the firm, warm indentations of my master’s twine by which my hands were held. Something nice was about to happen.
Margo’s hands were still handcuffed behind her back in my handcuffs when Hugo thrust her into the bedroom. He closed and locked the door. Margo was now an anxious and probably frightened young woman who was wishing she had more sense, but who could not give voice to her misgivings. Hugo had installed on her the most horrendous gag, it filled Margo’ s mouth, sealed her lips and locked behind her neck with a padlock quite needlessly huge. When her eyes met mine, I read in them a conviction as to what Hugo would do with his two women, but I don’t think she was all that thrilled by the prospect of sharing a male phallus with the slavegirl already firmly secured to the master’s bed. She need not have worried.
“Over here beside the bottom bed post,” Hugo told her as he took her bare arm to steer her where he desired, for a purpose I was uncertain about. Margo was twisting feverishly at handcuffed wrists, but since she was getting exactly what she wanted, made no motion of revolt. What she actually did get was something she did not want at all. He simply chained her right ankle to the lower bed post. The poor girl probably could step within a four foot radius, but stood there as if expecting something else. She got that, too.
“You expect to be naked. I hope,” Hugo asked his new slave. “In this house no female wears clothes. He produced scissors and barked, “Stand still,” at the lovely girl.
I had no idea what Margo’s feelings about nakedness might be, she was eyeing the scissors with an element of disbelief. But the things that happens to a girl when she becomes a slavegirl are always something of a shock. I sat there, happily dangling my legs when she made frantic motions with her head, indicating a desire to speak; a desire totally ignored. The stripping of a girl is always exciting. You never know how she will react or what will be disclosed. Either she did not wish or dared not move as her personally chosen master snipped away at a dress which probably cost a lot of money. When the new slavegirl was down to panties and bra, she was panting and I could well suspect she was torn between conventional modesty and pride in what would be revealed when the last of the clothing came off. When that moment came, Margo was disclosed as an unusually beautiful girl who’s body was every bit as beautiful as her face. Hugo had himself a winner! And I wondered if he knew how lucky he was. I suppose I could have asked but was quite content to be a spectator in this small drama of a maiden’s loss of freedom. Hugo said it all with remarkably few words, “You can sleep on the floor, Margo. Diane and I will make love but you haven’t yet earned that privilege. You can stand or sit as you please, but if you wish to sleep, it will be on the rug. You can stop making those motions with your head because I have no intention of taking the gag from your mouth. You have nothing of the faintest interest to say, and slavegirls have to ask permission before they speak. Amuse yourself.”