"Oh I do! I do!" I cried, nearly swooning with erotic pleasure.
It was I, Dennis Beryl, the young man with the great fortune and the lofty ambitions who was speaking. But her kid-gloved hands caressed me. I could give no other answer. It was in that moment that I gave up my will, my life, to her and to Helen. I leaned toward Miss. Priscilla as far as my handcuffs and my bonds would allow. I writhed in an ecstasy. To live satin-slippered and corseted with handcuffed gloved hands and strapped ankles in beautiful decollete frocks-yes, I learnt that night from Miss. Priscilla's hands that this was the supreme joy life held out to me.
"Keep me tied and daintily frocked! Oh, Miss. Priscilla, thank you!" I gasped and sank back with a dropping head as I found my body racked with joy.
Miss. Priscilla sprang up with a cry of triumph. She freed me from my bonds, led me over to a sofa, and stretched me out upon it on my back.
"I am going to cover your face," she said and she took up a black silk handkerchief. She gazed down with the utmost contempt at my outstretched form.
"It is all over with you now. Do you remember how you used to annoy me with your dirty shooting clothes and your heavy noisy boots? No more noisy boots Denise-ever! Only the daintiest little things of patent leather with slender tapering heels for the future. We have finished with Dennis Beryl."
I was floating back now into the ordinary world of men and women. I was ashamed. I moved restlessly.
"Lie still."
She covered my face and left me. I heard her moving the furniture again. She snatched the handkerchief from my face.
"Stand up, Denise!"
Where the stool had been there was now a chair and above the chair a gilt rope with a strong hook at the end dangling down from a ring in the ceiling. The rope had, until this moment, been wound around a glittering chandelier quite close to the ring.
I stood up. Miss. Priscilla rapidly unlaced the back of my dress, took my arms out of the shoulder straps, and let the dress fall in billowy daintiness about my feet. My singular delicate petticoat followed.
"Oh, what are you going to do to me?" I moaned piteously.
"I am going to make sure of your decision, Denise," she said significantly.
I stood in my corset and pantalets. She took two strong flat straps of leather.
"Open your legs, Denise," she said grimly, moving toward me.
"Oh, Miss. Priscilla!"
I opened them. She passed the straps between my thighs; brought one around outside each hip and joined the four ends, which had metal loops on them, to the small of my back. Making me hold them there, she drew up my petticoat and frock, and passing the four loops outside the frock where it laced up the back, she dressed me again and fastened my dress. Thus I had each hip in a strong flat leather loop underneath my dress and the ends of the loops were outside my dress at the middle of my back. Miss. Priscilla fastened the straps with the decisive click of a small lock.
"Now, your hands behind you!"
She fitted the bright steel handcuffs over my wrists and at the touch of them, the familiar delicious sense of being helpless in a woman's hands returned to me.
Miss. Priscilla intensified the feeling. For she turned me round like a doll, smiled pleasantly, and said, "You look very pretty and seductive, Denise." She smoothed down my skirt, letting her hands rest a little longer on my crotch.
Passionate longings and desires swelled up in me again.
"Mount the chair, Denise!" said Miss. Priscilla.
I looked down helplessly at the glittering buckles on my dainty satin toes.
"I would if I can, Miss. Priscilla. But with my hands handcuffed behind me, my heels are too slender and high. And my stockings are so tightly gartered that I should tear them."
She patted my cheeks hard.
"I don't ask you to do impossible things Denise. I will help you."
She placed the gilt footstool in position and helped me up. Then she slipped the four loops of the leather straps, which were outside my frock, over the hook at the end of the strong gilt rope. She could just manage to do that, and the rope now held me standing on the chair. Miss. Priscilla then raised my skirt up to my knees and with a delightful rustling of satin and chiffon, gathered it in tightly at the back and fixed it up with a satin strap, leaving my silk-stockinged legs exposed from knees to toes.
"Now we will tie your dainty ankles together. Put your slippers side by side dear, buckle to buckle, heel to heel."
She bound my ankles charmingly together, the leather straps supporting me. Then she drew up another chair and mounting it, passed a strong band of blue satin matching the tunic of my dress around my breast and buckled it behind, enclosing the gold cord.
"There is one little final preparation, Denise," she said. I was trembling with passion and fear.
What was she going to do? I was afraid-but stronger than the fear was my delight in my ignominious position. The tightness of the bonds about my wrists and feet made me shiver with excitement. Miss. Priscilla took a long new kid glove.
"It will help your subjection dear, if you associate your pleasure not merely with your feet bound in girls' high-heeled satin slippers, but She tied the glove over my lips gagging me.
"There," she said as she stepped down. "Now you are ready, you pretty thing."
Suddenly, she removed the chair from beneath me, and I hung, dangling in front of the mirror at the end of the gold cord. I was suspended in the air in all my lovely finery. Oh, how deliciously bizarre the spectacle was. I had no fear now. The straps about my thighs were strong; so was the rope, and the broad blue satin belt under my bosom and round the rope held me upright. Nor did I feel any pain, the leather straps pressed on my thighs afforded me the most exquisite sensations.
"Now, darling, stretch your pretty feet down, the toes delightfully pointed. That's right," and Miss. Priscilla took my insteps in her gloved hands and arched them delightfully.
"Now dear," she said as she slid her hands up my legs, pinching them devilishly, "I am going to flog your dainty soft calves in their glistening gossamer silk stockings with a riding whip."
"Oh, Miss. Priscilla!" I murmured inarticulately through my gag. I had never felt so deliciously helpless as at this moment, when looking into the mirror I saw myself bound hand and foot, dangling at the end of a cord in my lovely dress. I saw my poor legs in their delicate stockings and slippers exposed, and Miss. Priscilla calmly swishing her whalebone riding whip through the air. The sense of having nothing under my feet was extraordinary. The perfume of the kid glove over my lips was intoxicating.
"Watch your shoe buckles darling, while I punish you. Strain your feet well down. You love hanging there at my mercy, don't you?"
I nodded emphatically.
The strangest thrills of pleasure tingled through me. I pulled at my hands to feel more certainly the steel handcuffs. I twitched my toes and made my buckles flash to realize more completely, more entrancingly, the bonds about my ankles.
"Now then!" cried Miss. Priscilla savagely, and swish! the riding whip slashed viciously across my calves. I uttered a cry of pain. Again the whip fell. I drew up my knees to my chin in a spasm of anguish.
"I want you to associate supreme delight not merely with your girlish finery and loveliness, but with the pain endured while you look your girlish best." A third time the little whalebone curled round my legs, stinging and burning them. Oh, how I kicked and writhed in delicious agony. The shining slippers flashed in the air like silver, the slipper buckles like coloured flames, and again and again the cruel whalebone switch rose and fell against my soft, helpless flesh. I burst into screams and sobs, I twirled and spun at the end of my cord seeking vainly to elude the cuts of her thin whip.
And then my sobs diminished. Suddenly, I ceased to be conscious of the pain as anything but delightful evidence of my subjection. I saw myself in the dress and straps, in the dancing slippers of a fastidious fashionable young lady as I twirled in the air at the end of a rope. I saw my dainty frock fastened up to my knees while a prim old maid flogged my round smartly stockinged, tightly bound legs. The bizarre quality of this reality overwhelmed me. I pointed my toes, I strained my legs down to meet the blows. I was in seventh heaven; pain and pleasure were inextricably mingled. Miss. Priscilla laid down her whip at last.