"See! I told yer, love. Yer liking it, aren't yer?"
"I can't help it," I admitted apologetically. "I'm sure it's silly, but yes I like it. The liking won't last. But for a little while I'll know a peculiar kind of peace." He tugged at a rope that went over my shoulder, behind my neck and 'round the post. It was brutal, but I glowed in the knowledge of being possessed by another. I had passed my point of no return and would be dependent on this odd man for future liberty. In the meantime he would have every little bit of me totally. The rope burned my shoulders as it bit deep, I loved it!
"You won't even be able to wiggle, Phemie." What an ill assorted pair we were, yet joined by this common need! I stood in a roseate radiance as my knees were cinched and then my ankles. Lastly he examined the placement of my chained hands, then used more rope to clamp them back to the wood and render them immobile in a manner the handcuffs could not do. He stepped away and examined me. In his way he was a sculptor who had wrought a statue. I felt a strange pride that it was me.
"What yer say to the rest o' the day, lass?"
"It's not for me to say, Mr. Hennery. I'm the captive. It's you who can do what you like with me." It was throwing my bread upon the waters. The devil of it was I meant every word. The way he had tied me was a work of art.
"You and me's going to get along a treat, Phemie." He stood for a long time, drinking in my strained and outthrust breasts and my coy pubic bush. Then, as though rendered speechless by what he saw; he turned and went about his affairs. Alright! I'm a silly girl. I'm a nympho', I'm kinky, I'm irresponsible, I deserve all I get. But I told you! I can't explain the phenomenon of me. I've got a notion I'm not all that different from any other girl. I'm just willing to talk. It was early in the day when I was tied. It takes me one or two hours to make the transition from loving it to wishing I hadn't been such a fool. Three hours has me panting to get loose. But, now at that point, my day stretched interminably ahead, still young. A naked girl helplessly and hopelessly tied has only one recourse: the visions she can evoke within her mind. It's not always easy, it wasn't this time. Hennery's artistic strands of rope across my shoulders were biting at me like personal enemies. They were deep in my flesh, had been ever since he pulled them tight. The kicker was that every time I breathed they sunk in a bit deeper and hurt so much I longed to tear them away or to burst into tears. I won't dramatize. It was not my first time. It did not hurt any worse than some of Yolanda's bindings. She'd made me feel sorry for myself often enough. So I sort of put my sensations out of gear the way I'd learned from long sessions as a bound slave, and contemplated my future. I didn't have any! This was my first thought. What was happening to me now was IT! I could pick no hole in Hennery's plan to keep me forever. If someone else discovered me or I was rescued it would have to be by accident. I didn't waste time thinking about escape. The way Hennery had me the word escape was a mockery. I'd never get away from him. Can you envision it? Quite a spot for a girl! I surged angrily against my bindings but did not move. I was tied tight. But it was the future that mattered. To go on and on with Colin Hennery! He was so hard to reconcile with all my past. He did not belong. He was not a beast or an absolute brute. In some things he was almost kind. But I had to recognize I was in the power of what I could best describe as an amateur sadist. My main hope was that he'd value my body enough to wish to preserve it in good condition for his enjoyment. He probably would do this, but it wasn't much comfort. There's a precept, isn't there, that things can always get worse. Hennery was evidently a believer in it. He showed up in the early afternoon, smiling broadly. "You look good enough to eat," he said, and meant it. I told him how I hurt. He didn't appear to hear. "Realized I forgot something, lass," he informed me jovially. What he had forgotten was more rope. Rope that went up between my legs. It was not needed to make me more secure, only to hurt and to emphasize my female nakedness. Beside my puss and up over my hip. Then the real dilly, the one that went inside and was cinched up and up until I howled. I could not look down and see myself, but I was positive it was well within the lips of my cunt. They probably even closed over it.
"It's lovely, Phemie." His eyes ate it up. "You've no idea how sweet you look. I'm a lucky man." He was! But little Phemie was not a lucky girl. I moaned my way through the afternoon. My poor puss complained bitterly about her treatment. But I had no one to complain to, no one to whom to pass on the pain. But I suppose that's slavery! When he let me loose I was even grateful for the ravishing he gave me on my back on the straw. That night I talked him out of tying my feet. I also got him to lock the chain and padlock on one of my ankles instead of 'round my neck. I had another lovely night's sleep. I suppose no story is all bad. The next day was something of a landmark. Or at least a change.
"I got sheep the moor, lass, and I'm a' goin' ter the village as well," he announced at breakfast. "But I ain't a'goin' ter leave yer all day tied in that stable. It smells a bit, you may have noticed."
"It smells a lot," I said bravely. "Thank you."
"A bit o' good fresh air, that's the ticket, love."
"Sounds lovely. Can I have that other egg?"
"Ain't goin' ter tie yer too cruel."
"I suppose I do have to be tied?"
"Well, love, what else would you suggest?"
"Haven't you a cage or a nice room to lock me in?"
"That cage idea, love! I like it. But I ain't got one. On a lovely day like this I don't like to make you helpless in the house. No, the fresh air's the ticket fer little Phemie today."
"Supposing it rains later on?"
"It ain't going to. I say; love, you ain't being difficult, are you?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hennery. I'm an ungrateful girl. Please tie me any way you want."
"A real champion you are! That's a fact. More tea?" I had to be careful with him. I sensed the chasm of his displeasure always waiting. Yet there was something quaintly domestic about the two of us at mealtimes. Him feeding me because of my handcuffed wrists, and our discussions about what to do to me. Utterly absurd, eh!
"If I'm going to be out in the open all-day, could I wear something, please?"
"I ain't got no girl's clothes, love."
"I'd be grateful for anything — an old shirt."
"No." I'd pushed far enough. I followed him out into the yard. It really was a super day. My heart sang. But I had a vision of me drooping in some painful set of bondage all afternoon, that was allowing for my spirits holding buoyant through the morning.
"You're a good kid. I'm going to be easy, Phemie." It was a post in the center of his yard. Nothing remarkable in size or shape or height, but, standing alone as it was, vaguely sinister. I couldn't help thinking of piles of faggots 'round my feet and someone setting the torch to them. He must have set it up after he'd locked me safe for the night.,Without being invited, I went and stood with my back against it. I had become positive that by showing myself very willing I lessened my travail. Hennery went and got a box. A slave girl is forever one step behind, forever being led up garden paths. The box didn't belong to that post. I looked my curiosity. "Up's a daisy," said my owner.. I stood on the box. It was then I realized that the post was not as tall as one might have expected. "I thought this one up special for you, Phemie gal," Hennery explained. I could have sworn there was affection in his voice. He joined me on the box. Grasping my handcuffs he lifted and heaved. It was a painful stretch for me, but he got my chained hands up and over the top of that post. When he took the box away there I stood, as neatly attached to the wooden column as if I was a part of it.