"You sure do make a lot of noise," she said appreciatively.
"I suppose you laugh all the time he's whipping you!" I retorted bitterly. Daisy was just too much.
" 'Spose I do make a bit of noise," she admitted thoughtfully. "I'm always so busy hurting I don't notice."
"If you let him whip you for a rotten little five pounds, surely you could make a telephone call for me for a thousand?"
"Open your legs, love. I'll teach you to make fun of an honest girl."
"I'm not making fun, I'm not!" I wailed. "It's true."
"Open your legs so I can get inside."
"I won't!" Daisy seemed pleased at my refusal. She went to the barn and got rope. I quailed at the sight of it.
"Please don't tie me any more than I am. Please, please!"
"This is a real treat for me, kid. Being on the other end so to speak. I'm going to enjoy it."
"But it's cruel! I've never hurt you."
"Well, I've never hurt Colin. But that don't stop him cutting away at me."
"He's never whipped your pussy. I know he hasn't! I don't see why you want to whip mine."
"Simple, dearie. I can't get at your back."
"But it's not right, not decent, to whip a girl where you're whipping me. Can't I make you understand? I'm a prisoner. I'm not your competition for that idiot's five pound notes."
"First 'round this ankle, dearie — and don't you dare kick! Then round behind the post and now the other little tootsie."
"I'm going to fall forward if you pull my feet back like that."
"Thanks, love. You're right." Miserably, I watched her go and return with another rope. Daisy was well in charge of things. Our eyes flickered back and forth without any nice girlish communion as she made a loop over and above my breasts and around the post. She pulled far harder than she need have done until my back was positively clamped against the timber.
"Makes your tits stick out nice." She pinched them and laughed enjoyably at my yelps.
"A thousand pounds… a thousand pounds-" I moaned again and again. Surely the silly cow would get the message! "Shut up! You don't have a thousand pence, neither has Colin. This is just a nice fun day between us girls. Aren't you lucky! I'm sure I don't hit you as hard as he does." It was hopeless. I had become as much captive of her disbelief as of the handcuffs on my chafed wrists. In impotent silence I felt my feet pulled back and back on each side of the post until it was the band across my chest that kept me upright. My pussy gaped in its lonely prominence, but after a couple of experimental slashes that spent most of their force across my thighs my feminine torturer said a hearty: "Damn!" Peering at the wounds she had made on me she exclaimed angrily: "No good; is it! You're plastered against that post. I can't properly get in there on your cunt."
"If you'll let me loose-"
"Shut up!" She gave me another vicious cut.
"It's better without your feet tied," she decided. "If I can get your little butt away from that lousy post I can slice in there good." I was relieved of the ropes. Small impatient hands loosened them and cast them aside. I was back to square one, captive only of the implacable handcuffs. "I'll make you a deal, kid." Her voice modulated to sweet reason. "Stick that wet little cunt out a foot from the post — you can, y'know."
"Just so you can whip it!", I was heartbroken and scared.
"Sure, love. You do that proper or I'll whip your breasts until you do. How's that for a good offer? If you play along I'll leave those pretty tits alone." If you have never been a prisoner fastened to a post you can't understand. You can be forced into gratitude over a choice between two awful things being done to you. I was truly afraid of what injury a whip could do to my breasts. Ruefully, I supposed it would do no more than bitterly hurt my pubes. "I'll try," I promised. "But it hurts so much I don't think I can keep still."
"You can have a bit of time to wiggle in between strokes, love. But when I say the word you get that cute butt away from the post and your legs well spread."
"Alright." I looked at her appealingly. "I will try, honest! How many are you going to give me?"
"That's for you to find out, love. On your mark!" I parted my legs and pushed my loins out at Daisy in obscene invitation. She nodded, pleased. The cut bisected me cruelly. I could almost believe my haunches were sundered. I envisioned blood all over. I tore at my handcuffs and writhed in every contortion I could contrive. Here and there through my maze of pain I glimpsed Daisy's enraptured enjoyment.
"You've started something," I gasped bitterly. "When he sees these marks on, me he'll put some on you too."
"It's worth it, kid, just to watch you." Meekly, hoping to placate, I resumed the hated pose that pleaded for punishment. The whip sang and splatted where I wanted it least. I screamed and resumed my dance. Daisy did not kill me. I was surprised to learn later that she had done me no permanent damage. While she was using the whip on me I was convinced she rivaled Torquemada in skill and intent. When she had enjoyed me for as long and as much as she dared, she replaced the rope and the whip in the stable, then came and surveyed my striped and sweating nudity.
"Thanks, love." A slave girl is forever astonished by the reactions her punished nakedness evokes. Daisy's thanks sounded sincere. I looked at her in woeful surprise. My surprise was doubled when she held my cheeks and kissed my forehead. Sardonically, she said: "You can tell his nib's that he can have me free next time. Not a penny! That'll pay for me having you today." She grinned happily and went. I watched her trudge over the hill. Once more I was alone. I leaned back against my post and sighed in an infinite relief. Such moments of surcease are a slave girl's only victory. Colin Hennery was furious. Not in sympathy with my hurts, but because his property had been used. He stood glowering at the wealed evidence of Daisy's pleasure I fully expected to be blamed. His vows of what he would do to Daisy were a little solace, but not much. It was not until he had got the box and returned my hands to, what was now, their normal resting place behind my back that he began to recover from his pout. He immediately laid me on my back and kicked my feet apart. I felt certain the savage thrusts with which he pierced me again and again were directed at the absent girl who had whipped my breasts and puss. But I won't say I did not enjoy them. After my sojourn against the post I needed something… anything… A slave girl must be satisfied with what she gets. At breakfast, his, lust appeased by an early morning ravishment of my loins, Hennery broke the news: He had actually phoned Yolanda in search of the thousand pounds. My heart leaped.