Missing Penny
by John Savage
Smashwords Edition
Original published edition copyright 1996 John Savage
Ebook editions copyright 2009 John Savage
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter I
Hogtied Girl
The girl was a prisoner, tightly bound with ropes in one of the most painful and constrictive positions of all, the hogtie. Numerous wrappings of cotton clothesline held the youthful arms firmly behind her back, elbows pulled painfully together, wrists tightly pressed against each other. More rope crushed her ankles together and even more cut cruelly into the soft flesh just above her knees, a wrapping made even tighter by the bending of her legs back towards her arms. The link between her wrists and ankles, that rope which held her body bent into the arched contortion that is the hogtie, was very short. So short, in fact, that her open palms were pressed hard against her heels.
It was a strained and painful bondage position, executed with precision and a total disregard for the comfort of the prisoner; a position never intended to entertain even the slightest hope of escape. For an endless period the young naked body, a lass of certainly no more than twenty, lay quietly on the hardwood floor, forehead pressed against the unyielding wood in an attempt to ease the strain on her shoulders. Long black hair lay on the wood around her head, blocking her sight, but she did not care. The tension created by the girl's body trying to unfold, by muscles aching to open out of the imposed arch, was an unending torment to the teenage girl held locked in this unnatural position. The shoulders, which would have been forced back by the cording of the elbows behind her alone, were held well off the floor by the constant strain. Even her fingers lay unmoving. Once, long ago, they had sought for knots to undo, loose ropes to be worked on, anything that might move her towards freedom, but now they lay half numb and exhausted from fruitless effort and discouraged by repeated failure.
Now and then over the long afternoon the young woman turned her head to one side or the other to search longingly for sign of human company, company that might release her from the painful ropes. At first she had struggled the little allowed her by this strained position and called out, demanding release. The demands had faded into quiet pleas and then into moans and finally into cries of agony as the hours passed. No one responded, no one heard, and she knew herself alone and completely helpless. That was why no gag had been needed. When the stress and aches became too much she cried, leaving tearstains across her cheeks for lack of fingers to wipe them away.
It was growing dark when she heard footsteps. Harsh, loud, male footsteps against the unprotected wood. They stopped near her and she turned, straining to look up. Through strands of black hair she saw him, the man who had put those ropes on her, who had condemned her an afternoon of anguish. She hated him, but had no strength left to express that hatred. He kneeled down and cupped her chin in one hand, pulling her head back so he could look into those blue eyes. Gently he brushed aside the black tresses and smiled, a smile warm and friendly and concerned. She felt like spitting in his eye.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
Her throat was dry and the words formed painfully, “You know I'm not.” Then, without hope, “Have I suffered enough?”
“My dear, you did commit a crime. You must be punished,” he said reasonably.
“A crime...?” She paused as if thinking about her misdeed. “Only to a bastard like you.”
A smile greeted her profanity. “You tried to escape. I told you the rules - attempted escape earns you punishment. You are being punished.”
She did not attempt to argue with the one-sided logic. But the lovely lips did form the words, “How much longer?” It was a plea more than a question.
“I think a while. Maybe until you're ready to apologize and say you're sorry you tried to escape.”
Her blue eyes flared with an inner determination but the fire faded quickly. There was not much fight left in the girl and they both knew it. The pain and enforced immobility had worn her down, sapped her strength and would someday break her. Not today, they both sensed that too, but someday.
“I'm sorry I got caught trying to escape.”
“You're a little imp, you know that? That's why I like you. You've got more fight inside that any ten other girls. But I'll break you of it. And I'll not in a hurry. I'll take my time and enjoy it. Then, one day, you'll be mine. Not just your body, but your soul. It is as inevitable as the coming of the snows in winter, as the death that waits each of us at the end of our days. You'll be mine.”
“Go to hell,” she said, but with little force.
“That may well be. But meantime you're the one in her own little bit of hell. Enjoy it. I'm going to dinner.”
He left. The girl lowered her forehead back to the floor and wept. From somewhere inside came tears where she had thought herself cried out. The evening turned into night and in the darkness the girl still suffered in her hogtie.
Chapter II
Practice
The leather belt impacted against female flesh with a solid and most satisfying sound. The young woman at the receiving end of the blow bit her lower lip but could not hold in a small cry of pain. The strike had stung her ass very much. She buried her face in the pillow and waited for the next cut.
“That the way you wanted it?” came a masculine voice from behind her. She turned her head to look over a bare shoulder at the man standing at the foot of the bed.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. “I want the whipping to be real. But David,” she paused as if unsure of his reaction to the next request. “David, could you tie my hands again... this time tighter?”
David looked puzzled and a little hurt. But he put down the belt and kneeled on the bed next to the naked woman. With a little fumbling he untied the stiff, new clothesline that had held her wrists crossed and bound behind her back. He had considered the rope bondage on her wrists to be a pretty good job, yet had to admit that either he had not tied it firmly enough or the struggling she had done had loosened the ropes. Either way the loops were noticeably loose and her request for tightening made sense. Sense if she wished to be truly helpless and remain held face down on the bed with legs tied spread wide for more punishment from the man's belt.
“Thank you,” she replied when he began rewrapping the rope. A little snort indicated that he was not happy with the implied criticism of his work, and the rest of the wrappings were applied extra tight as if saying, “you asked for it.” The girl noticed but said nothing. She felt his weight leave the bed and heard the click of the belt buckle as he picked up the leather strap again. She turned her face into the pillow to await the next infliction of pain.
It came and it hurt. She told herself the pain was not all that severe, not compared to what pain could be. But, damn, it really hurt! Her ass tightened involuntarily as it braced itself against the pain of the next stroke. Each stroke landed, the smacking sound filling the small bedroom, followed immediately by a gasp from her and her arms jerking. Her fingers sought burning ass cheeks after each hit but quickly retreated for fear of being hit themselves. She bit the pillow to hold back her cries and wondered if she were crazy. But she did not cry out for a halt to the stinging blows. She had asked for twenty blows, and twenty it would be.
“Ten,” said the man, his voice a little puzzled as if he were proud to report his task half done but also wondering why he was doing it. “Lynn....” he began but was at a loss for the right words. Putting down the belt, he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching over to touch the reddened bottom lightly. “Lynn, I've seen you do some pretty wild things - you kind of like different things. But I've never seen you do this. It hurts, doesn't it?” It was not really a question.
Lynn nodded without taking her face from the pillow. The man ran his hand down her side and slid it under her to cup one large, firm breast. He squeezed gently. “Why don't we knock off the beating and get to something more interesting....?”
Lynn turned her face to meet his eyes. “Because I want twenty.” She pulled in her breath then said with resolve, “Do it.”
The man sighed and reluctantly released the breast. The eleventh stroke was the hardest. If she wanted a whipping, he was going to give it to her! Male pride dictated no other action.
There was no question that the last ten strokes far outdid the first. Her ass burned and sent pain signals racing up nerves to her brain. She bit the pillow and held back giving voice to the pain as her punished body wanted her to. After the twentieth blow and in the silence that followed, she realized that her pillow was wet from tears. Releasing the pillow from clenched teeth, she sucked in air with a sob. Behind her the man stood quietly, arm hanging at his side still holding the belt, as if he were not sure what to do with it now.
Turning from the wet pillow, Lynn forced a smile on the youthful and beautiful features. “Thanks. You did a good job of it.” She tried to keep her voice normal, without sounding funny or sarcastic, but probably did not succeed. “Now you get the part you like.” Her smile was a little weak but very real at that thought. Dave really was not into all that pain stuff; he just liked to screw. Still, she noticed that there was a hell of a bulge in the front of his pants. She filed it away in the back of her mind that whipping a girl can excite most any man. Even one who claimed he did not want to whip her in the first place.
David unzipped and dropped his pants quickly, disengaging his stiff rod from his shorts as rapidly as he could, then he was mounting the bed, that throbbing rod aiming straight for the fury patch exposed and inviting between her wide spread legs.
“David! The gag,” she admonished him. With a heavy sigh he left the bed but returned a few seconds later with some cloth in his hands. Lynn arched her head up, making it easier for him to insert the wad of cloth and tie it in place with a scarf, tightly because of his anger at having his lust delayed its fulfillment. He muttered a few curse words as he knotted the gag behind her head and added a comment about the “damned stupid, freaky things” she did. Then he swung around and practically threw his body across hers. Within the space of a heartbeat his tool had found the entrance and was driving inside her. She gasped, more from the rubbing of his body against her sore ass than from the penetration of her sheath. But quickly her body responded to the lovemaking motions and within a minute she was panting and wiggling under his body and burning with more fire than what the belt had induced in her ass.
With surprising speed, her body responded and built up that wonderful feeling of sexual excitement until she was speeding towards a climax faster than she had ever done in her young life. Just before rational thought began to fade away under the onslaught of intense emotions, she wondered if the whipping had something to do with this unusually rapid and intense orgasm. She was not sure but that would help explain this rapid trip to Cloud Nine. Then she stopped trying to think and just floated on the rising ecstasy until the fireworks exploded in her mind and body.
The next thing she was aware of was having trouble breathing. David was lying across her body, as exhausted as was she. She could feel his hairy body pressing her bound wrists into her back, even the short hairs of his pubic region irritating her sensitive and sore ass. Before she could ask him to roll off, he did just that and flopped on his back beside her, one leg draped over hers.
“God, that was good,” was his only comment. Lynn agreed silently, it would have taken too much effort to speak through the gag. Even though her ass still hurt and the cloth gag in her mouth tasted bad and was uncomfortable, she made no move to ask him to remove it. The last part of her plan was going into effect now, as she had asked for. Soon the snoring from beside her told her that David had succumbed to sleep as he always did, leaving Lynn naked, bound and gagged on the bed.
Lynn took a deep breath in through her nose and settled her head as comfortable as possible on the pillow. Sometime during the night she would poke David into life and get him to remove the gag and untie the wrists and ankles. But she wanted that to be as far into the night as possible so she would remain bound and gagged for a long time - until morning if possible. She would have asked him to simply bind and gag her and leave her alone in her apartment for the night but that was a little too scary. Not only was she unsure if she could take that kind of rough treatment, she was not sure he would do it. As it was, asking him to tie her down and whip her ass with his belt took a bit of talking, mostly to convince him that she had not turned “weird” on him. She thought he would change his mind when she asked that he gag her before having sex with her. Her term was “lovemaking”, his was “screwing”. But she gave him the scarves and told him how to gag her after the whipping. She had considered asking him to gag her before the whipping but was not sure that was a good idea, finally deciding that she would not be gagged but would try her hardest not to say anything or cry out. She was resolved to endure the entire twenty strokes, and she had.
It was around three AM when she awoke and poked David in the ribs until her grumbled but released her. Her mouth was dry and most uncomfortable and her hands were half numb. After the ropes came off they tingled for a while with the returning circulation. She had to drink water to get her mouth to feel half way normal.
She thanked David for indulging in her strange requests without explaining why she had asked it. David gentlemanly offered to stay and take her out to breakfast but she pleaded that she had to go somewhere early the next day and kicked him out with a promise to let him take her to dinner the next night, a promise she had no intent of keeping. Tomorrow night she would be a thousand miles away. Tonight had been practice for a new profession.
Chapter III
Holly's House of Dominance
Lynn had been greeted as she stepped from the airline terminal by a blast of hot air, mixed with what could only be politely described as obnoxious fumes. With blinking eyes she stood on the sidewalk amid the hustle of thousands of people rushing about, and wondered what was wrong with the air. It was a dirty shade of brown, almost like a weak, dirty fog but without the pleasant coolness. Through watery eyes she saw and flagged down a taxi.
The ride was a long one. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, even had an address, but did not want to actually go there yet. Still, she gave that address to the cabbie and watched with interest as he drove by it after a long, hot drive through city streets that she thought would never end. The cab had air conditioning but it was a mockery of the name. All it succeeded in doing was moving the smoggy air around the inside of the cab. If it were cooler inside than outside, she could not tell.
The building at the given address was a house in what she guessed was a fashionable section of town; at least, the homes were large and had considerable amount of lawn separating themselves from the street and each other. It was a far nicer area than she had imagined she would find.
The next task took a while. Simply asking the cabbie to take her to the nearest hotel gained her more miles in the back of the hot taxi, some of which she was sure were traveled in circles. But finally he came to a broad street that contained several motels. Choosing one at random, or actually because it had a large blue sign and blue was her favorite color, she departed the taxi gladly, paid an exorbitant sum for fare, and stood there in the hot sun with her bag by her side. She felt like digging out a handkerchief to wipe her face, but decided that effort would be better spent getting inside and out of the direct sun. Did California not know that October was autumn, with winter soon to rush in? Back home the trees were littering the ground with their multicolored leaves. Out here it was the air that turned brown.
Inside the door she was met with a blast of cold air emanating from a vent in the wall aimed as though to use its icy blast to fight back the outside heat. She registered, got an appraising once-over from the desk clerk whose eyes especially lingered on the curves she so well filled in her dress, and was given room 23, upstairs and by the pool. She had to pay the first day in advance.
Room 23 had a dark blue painted door, light blue paint peeling on the walls, and yellow curtains. Lynn dropped her suitcase on the faded maroon bedspread and went directly into the bathroom where she splashed water on her face, hoping to flush the grit and stinging hydrocarbons out of her eyes.
Lynn opened her suitcase and selected the lightest weight dress she could find, stripped down to her bra and panties, and then decided that the dress could wait. She turned on the air conditioning, an ugly dark green box stuck under her window, and waited for the room to cool. The conditioner rumbled and rattled and settled down to a constantly irritating vibration. But the air it blew at her did begin to cool and soon gave relief from an atmosphere she was hardly used to.
Opening a slight crack in the drapes, Lynn looked outside, studying this strange land where she had come to live for how long she knew not. As long as it would take to complete her mission. Several teenage girls and boys splashed in the kidney shaped pool almost directly beneath her window. She sighed as she thought of all the bathing suits not brought. They had been packed away for the winter at her mother's house.
Along the street people walked and talked and cars whizzed by, all oblivious to the heat and nearly unbreathable air. Across the street Lynn saw a restaurant advertising fried chicken and decided that place would do for dinner.
Pushing the suitcase to the floor, she stretched herself out on the bed and was asleep before she realized how tired she was.
After dinner she felt better. The sun had set, so at least she no longer had to look at dirty skies. There were even a few stars coming out, fighting their way valiantly through the haze, as she crossed back to the motel. Inside her room she set the air conditioner for its lowest setting and carefully, slowly unpacked her suitcase, putting the few things she brought into the dresser drawers and hanging up a couple of dresses, hoping the wrinkles would fall out during the night. She placed a small paper bag on the bed and stored the suitcase in the closet.
For a while she lay on the bedspread, absently noting things about her room, reviewing her trip, anything to avoid having to face her mission. But it would not be avoided, the paper bag on the bed reminded her of that. With a sigh she dumped the contents on the bed and tossed the bag into the waste can. A fifty-foot coil of cotton clothesline lie there, still wrapped in plastic, still marked with the price sticker. She opened the wrapping and uncoiled the rope, letting it slide through her hands with almost a reverence. Different emotions crossed her face - a half smile as if seeing an old friend, a frown of apprehension, even a little touch of fear tugging at one corner of her mouth.
Uncoiling the rope, she doubled it to find the midpoint then cut it with a tiny pair of scissors from her purse. Each of the two new pieces was similarly cut in half, leaving four lengths of rope lying on the bed. Making sure the door was locked and the drapes closed but the window open, she turned off the air conditioner. Pulling back the covers revealed pink bed sheets and a light green blanket. Was everyone in California color blind? With deliberate slowness she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall. Then unhooked her bra and let it also come to rest on the floor. For a moment she hesitated then slipped off her panties and shoes. The image that looked back from the dresser mirror was a young woman, healthy, full-bodied, trim and fit. She lightly touched her nipples with fingernails from both hands then traced down the smooth curves of those shapely young breasts, following the trim body with her hands, fingers delicately trailing over the skin. They passed the flat tummy and traced the outlines of the flare of her hips. The fingers came to rest on the outsides of her thighs. Lynn looked at herself in the mirror as though seeing that girl for the first time.
Twenty-one years old and kept in shape by jogging, playing tennis and swimming. She raised up on tip toes and studied the curves in her legs. She turned while on toes for the profile and back views. With a muted satisfaction she decided that most people would find this body attractive, desirable, pleasant to look upon. And to touch. Walking to the dresser, she gazed at the face peering back from the mirror. The hazel eyes had always seemed a little too large for her, but others told her they were just right. Her black hair was cut long, curved into soft folds that framed her face nicely. She had never decided if she were beautiful or not. Her male friends told her most certainly yes but she wondered. Perhaps those lips were a bit too full, quick to laugh, but maybe too full for true beauty. With a sigh she turned back to the bed. Whatever she was would have to do. She hoped she would be judged attractive tomorrow.
The ropes invited. Her fingers moved in old patterns, not used for a while but remembered, as they tied a loop in the end of each piece of rope. Sitting on the bed, she swung her feet up and bent the legs until she could reach her ankles. The looped end of one rope formed a larger loop and she passed that over her feet, bringing it sung around her ankles. A few more wrappings to hold the ankles together, then she passed the rope between her legs and feet to cinch down the ankle rope. Several passes and a pulling made the rope around her ankles tight against the skin. She knotted the rope several times so it would not come loose. Her ankles were bound.
Lynn wrapped most of the next rope around her legs just above the knees. She straightened out her legs flat as she did so the knees were closer together and not as thick. She cinched that rope down too and knotted it carefully so it wouldn't loosen. These were skills she had not used for a while but the finished bondage was firm, not overly tight, and secure. That was the important part; she must not be able to free herself by struggling. Until she or someone else untied the knots, her legs would remain bound together. The third piece made a loop around her stomach, which she pulled firmly until the rope cut into her flesh. She wrapped it around several more times, each as tight as the first, and then knotted the end to the beginning loop. When she lay back the rope belt was tight enough, just short of painful, constantly a reminder of its presence.
It would have been hard for an observer to determine the emotion or emotions of Miss Lynn Wardlow. Her eyes closed as she lay back on the bed and slid her hands along her sides, caressing her hips and thighs in a sensuous, loving way. One would have thought her in the first stages of sexual excitement, beginning the teasing of her own body that would lead to fulfillment. But her mouth was set in a hard line as if bracing herself for a difficult task. For a while she lay there, hands still at her sides, breathing slow and easy, making no further moves to excite her body.
Just when one would have assumed her asleep, she took a deep breath and sat up. From the last piece of rope she formed a loop around the wide spread fingers of one hand and wrapped until it was almost used up. The last length was wrapped around the others as a cinch but was not pulled down. Then she put both wrists inside the loops, one on each side of the cinch rope. Taking the free end in her teeth she pulled and tightened the cord around her wrists. She used her fingers to tuck the loose end inside the wrappings. It was not secure - she could free herself with just a few minutes’ effort, but it was snug and would link her wrists together until she pulled the free end out and unwrapped the cinch rope with her teeth.
Lynn turned off the bedside light, then reached down and pulled the covers up over her naked body until the top was just below her chin. She carefully moved her bound wrists under the covers until they rested on her tummy, the fingers folded together as if in prayer.
Only a dim blue light from the motel sign filtered through the curtains. Sleep came slowly to the naked and bound girl. Mixed emotions flitted about in her mind: determination, apprehension, anger, and fear. It is never easy to fall asleep in a strange bed, in a strange room, and in a strange city. It did not help that she felt the caresses of ropes around her limbs and body, a caress she had felt only a few times and that a couple years before. It both tingled her nerves and reminded her of a task that would be both hard and painful. It also reminded her of who she had bound and who had bound her in another time.
Sleep came eventually, for she was tired. Sometime later, as the first blush of pink heralded the coming dawn, a dream haunted the young woman's sleep, causing her to moan softly and turn but not to wake. In that dream she was lashed to a tree with numerous windings of thick white rope, so many that her body almost disappeared beneath the tight wrappings. She wanted to get free, she had something she had to do, something very, very important, but the ropes held her. Then someone was adding more ropes, more turns around her and the tree, making escape even more impossible. She could not quite see who it was, only a hand or arm here and there guiding the rope, firming it down. She wanted to see who it was, to be able to plead with that person, but all she got was a glimpse of slender, youthful hands and a hint of golden hair flashing in the sunlight.
In the warm space under the covers, fingers moved as if coming to a life of their own. First they touched each other then the rope around the wrists. While Lynn was lost in her dream and felt only the thick, heavy ropes imprisoning her to that dream tree, her fingers found their way through her pubic bush to the sensitive seat of her sexual being and began stroking, lightly then harder as the body responded. In the dark of the motel room her body came sexually alive, aroused and responding to the touch and inner fires. Soon she was arching her back, elbows locked against her sides, legs tightly clenched together, fingers working silently but every so effectively, and small moans escaping. In her dream, the ropes were being wound faster and faster around her, tighter and tighter, and she tried harder and harder to see who was wrapping them. Just as Lynn was about to see the face of the person, she gasped and her body exploded in climatic, burning fire and she was awake, aware only of her orgasm.
Later, when the fire died down and the dream faded into nothingness as dreams will, she shook off the last of the sleepiness and untied her wrists. The fingers were a little numb and tingled a bit but that had been from the tightening of the ropes as her fingers strained to reach and caress her love bud. Sleeping with them bound had done no harm. She removed the ropes from her legs and waist and let them fall to the floor. Then she pulled the covers back over her naked body, curled up into a ball, and waited for dawn.
* * * * *
Lynn Wardlow stood on the sidewalk, paid the cabbie, and turned to the house on Sundown Way. It was large, as all of them were in this section of the city. There were well-manicured lawns, Mercedes Benz and BMWs scattered about in circular driveways, and the general air of wealth. This day had dawned clear and clean, so in contrast to the prior day. The sky was a deep blue and the sun warm and bright. Lynn took a deep breath and walked up the driveway.
The front door was massive, double, and made of well-polished oak. She pressed the button and waited, trying to deny the mixture of emotions inside and present an outward calm. She had a job to do and must not fail. She concentrated on that.
It was not a uniformed butler who answered the door after several minutes wait. It was a young woman, hardly older than Lynn, dressed in hot pants, high heels, and a sleeveless blouse, all in shades of black. The hot pants and blouse looked to be satin and accented the woman's raven black hair and dark eyes very well.
“Yes?” she said, hardly a welcome. Perhaps she thought Lynn was at her door by mistake, or selling something she most certainly would not want to buy.
“I'm... I'm here to look for a job,” Lynn managed. The girl in black did not change her expression. She still looked as if she would rather Lynn turned and walked away. While she seemed to be making up her mind whether to order Lynn away or not, another voice interrupted from within the house.
“Monique...,” was all the woman's voice said and that was spoken quietly. But it was enough. Monique pulled the door inward and invited Lynn inside.
“Come in, please,” she said with extravagated politeness. “Mistress Holly will see you. This way.”
Lynn followed into the cool, dark interior of the house. While the exterior had been California Spanish, the inside was a tasteful modern that went well with the white walls and arched doorways. Immediately inside was a living room done in shades of blue and green, with plush sofas, glass coffee and end tables, a deep pile mint green carpet, and framed graphics, all in the same blue and green motif. Following Monique, she passed by the living room and down a hall to the first door on the right. Monique stood by the door with hand held out, inviting Lynn to enter. She was smiling but Lynn was sure that girl disliked her. And she had to wonder why.
This room was done in shades of burgundy and plum with a cream carpet base. Lynn did not like it but had to admit it presented a striking appearance. There were more modern graphics on the walls, except for a small oil painting set by one corner. A large glass desk occupied the space before the windows, facing the door. The curtains on the windows behind the desk were open and the room was lit by morning sunlight. Behind the desk sat a woman. In one hand she held a glass of something blood colored. The other waved Lynn towards a chair.
Lynn sat and waited for the woman to speak, taking the time to study the woman and her desk. The woman was maybe forty, maybe more or maybe less; it was hard to tell. She was slender, well dressed in a burgundy lounging dress, picked to match this room, no doubt. Her hair was red, lush, and styled to accent the woman's green eyes. Her desk was functional without being cluttered. A multi-line phone sat next to an appointment calendar. The other side of the desk held what looked like a small television until Lynn saw the typewriter keyboard below it and realized it was a computer.
The woman, in turn, studied Lynn. She saw a young woman, slender but with a full figure, hair long and straight and as black as Monique's. Her eyes were large and seemed sincere. Her mouth was set firmly, definitely not relaxed. This girl wants something and it's important to her, the woman decided. With her professional eye she also noted that this girl had good muscle structure and tone. She was neither fragile nor too solid. Legs curvy without being overly muscular. And from the swelling of her blouse, if really all her, her breasts were of a size and shape to be most pleasing.
The woman took a sip then put down the glass. “My name is Mistress Holly. What may I do for you?” The tone was neither cool nor friendly. She would wait to see what this girl wanted before turning cold or warm.
“My name is Lynn. Lynn Carson,” she lied smoothly, as she had rehearsed. “I've come to see about getting a job with you.”
“Oh... And how did you hear of us?” Still no warmth.
“I saw an ad,” Lynn said as she opened her purse. She laid a folded and tattered piece of newsprint on the clear glass desk. Mistress Holly glanced at it.
“That's an old ad. We've not run it for more than six months.”
“I hope it is still good. I mean, that you still need help. I was in LA months ago. That's when I saw the ad and saved it.”
“And how did you get this address? It's not in the ad, only a phone number is.” Definitely no warmth this time.
“I called back then and was given this address to come to for an interview,” Lynn continued her rehearsed lies. “I meant to come, but I had to return to my home town suddenly. Illness in the family.”
Lynn stared openly at Mistress Holly as if daring her to call her a liar. A few seconds passed and then Mistress Holly smiled. She was a pretty woman when she smiled, and it was an honest smile. “I don't remember any girl with your name,” she said, “but I got many calls from that ad. And most were just curious. Only a few girls actually came in for an interview.”
Lynn wanted to take a deep breath of relief, but forced herself to remain attentive and sincere.
“Would you like something to drink?” Mistress Holly waved at her glass. “I like tomato juice in the morning, but we have coffee if you like. Or something else?”
“Thank you, but I had breakfast.” Lynn did not add that she had hardly touched the food. “I take it you can still use some girls?” she added, to get the conversation back the direction she wanted.
Mistress Holly was silent for a few second, either still studying Lynn or thinking something about her need for girls. “Yes,” she said finally. “We can usually use an extra girl or two. Come with me.”
Mistress Holly rose suddenly and with a swishing sound of satin made for the door. Lynn rose and followed. They walked farther down that hallway towards the back of the house until they came to a door marked with a simple number “2” in gold paint on the oak wood. Lynn stood still as Mistress Holly again looked into her eyes, as if deciding whether to continue. Lynn tried to look as sincere as she knew how. She told herself to just remember that she wanted a job here. That was what was important.
Satisfied, Mistress Holly took a key from a hook by the door and unlocked it. She swung wide the door and invited Lynn to step inside. Lynn obeyed but with some trepidation. It was dark inside. Reaching past Lynn, Mistress Holly turned on a light switch. Instantly the room was well lit, but it took Lynn's eyes a few seconds to focus and adjust and her brain a few more seconds to realize what it was she saw.
The girl was naked. The girl was tied up. The girl was tied in a damned uncomfortable position and Lynn gasped when she saw and understood. The girl was younger than Lynn, maybe only just turned eighteen, but with a full, ripe body. Someone had bound her wrists behind her back, inside of the wrists together, and then tied her elbows together after forcing them to touch. Her legs had also been tied together, at the ankles and again at the knees. Lynn noted that additional rope had been added to the knee bondage, running up to the girl's waist, wrapped tightly there and then back down to the knees. The girl was standing in the middle of the room and forced to stand there because her wrists were tied to a hook in the ceiling. Her arms had been pulled up until she was forced to bend forward and her hands were higher than her head.
Lynn's first thought was of pity for the poor girl. That was an uncomfortable position, a terrible way to be tied, a horrible punishment if left there for any length of time. Her second reaction was to think that a few hours ago her legs had been tied like that.
The girl looked up and blinked at the bright light. “Mistress Holly...” she said with a voice gravelly from crying and perhaps screaming. “Mistress Holly, my time... Is it up?” The hope in her voice was pitiful to hear. Lynn thought the girl was very pretty, with the cutest turned up nose and wonderfully sweet face, even thought somewhat distorted by the strain of her bondage.
“No, Colleen. Your time is not yet up,” said Mistress Holly, firmly but not angrily.
The girl's head turned to look at Lynn with an emotion Lynn could not read. Perhaps it was hope, perhaps only despair. Then Colleen's head sank again. “I'm very uncomfortable, Mistress Holly,” she said in what Lynn was sure was a gross understatement. But Lynn noted that the girl had only stated a fact, she had not begged or pleaded.
“It is supposed to be uncomfortable,” Mistress Holly explained politely. Then she turned to Lynn. “Please feel free to examine Colleen.”
Lynn walked around the bound, naked girl. Her fingers were unmoving at the ends of the raised up arms and there were little tremors in the muscles in the back of those lovely legs. Lynn turned in question, “How long...”
“Tell her, Colleen,” said Mistress Holly.
The cute blonde raised her head again, this time looking at Lynn. It was obvious she was forcing strain and anger out of her voice and probably a good deal of pain, too. “I've been here since midnight. I don't know what time it is now.” The hope was there again. Lynn realized that part of this girl's punishment was not knowing how long she had been standing there nor how much longer she would be forced to hold that painful pose. Colleen waited for someone to give her a kind word, to let her know that it was only a few more minutes to freedom, but silence was the only reply and she lowered her head again.
Lynn felt sympathy for the girl. She could imagine herself bound in that position, her arms pulled up for hours on end. But she could do nothing to help the girl. This Mistress Holly was in charge here. Lynn knew she should not even suggest any mercy; it was not her place to do so. Instead she ran one finger lightly over the ropes imprisoning the poor girl's elbows and said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “Nice bondage. I'm sure this position is good punishment.” She saw Mistress Holly's eyebrow rise slightly. One point to Lynn.
She walked directly in front of Colleen. “Did you try to free yourself from the ropes?”
Without raising her head, Colleen replied, “Yes, Mistress. I tried very hard at first. But it was no use.” Lynn was about to turn to Mistress Holly when the bound girl added, “I'm very helpless.”
Lynn smiled and made sure that Mistress Holly saw it. “I'm sure you are,” she agreed. Then she turned to Mistress Holly and raised one eyebrow as if to say, “Well, I've seen the poor girl, is there anything else?”
Mistress Holly smiled and it was friendly this time. “I'm glad you approve of this bondage punishment position. It has the advantage of being simple but effective. And it can be done anywhere that there is an overhead support strong enough to withstand the tugging of a frantic, angry, sometimes panicking girl.”
They left the room, Mistress Holly switching off the light and locking the door. “You have to be careful to pick a solid hook or beam,” she continued, “or the girl might pull it out in her struggles. Oh, yes, a girl can become very panicky when left along in tight bondage. Especially in the dark. It plays tricks on the mind, you know.” Mistress Holly was having fun, but she was also communicating something to Lynn.
Lynn was willing to play the game, too. “Helplessness can be very frightening to some girls. And it can be very exciting to others.” The ball was back in Mistress Holly's court. And Lynn knew the next volley would be hard.
They went to a room next door, a room with a golden “3” on the door. It was unlocked and the lights switched on. Lynn was invited in. There was no current occupant, only numerous coiled ropes hanging on pegs on the wall and an ominous hook in the ceiling.
“Strip.” The single word was not loud but it was spoken with a great deal of authority. Mistress Holly was not smiling now but her expression held no anger or meanness either.
Lynn was ready. Without a word she placed her purse on the floor and reached behind her back to unbutton the dress. She folded the dress and placed it on her purse. The bra and panties followed, and then the shoes. Only a little tightening of the muscles in her stomach and a little heavier breathing belied Lynn's calm appearance. She was forcing herself to the right actions and, so far, winning the contest. She stood before Mistress Holly and resisted the urge to cover her breasts and pubic bush. It would have been harder in front of a man, but was still not easy to be so casual in front of a woman she had met only a few minutes ago. And in a small room obviously designed to be a place of punishment.
Mistress Holly said nothing but Lynn could sense emotions in the older woman. Respect perhaps; she hoped so. Acceptance of a challenge? Lynn hoped she had not overplayed her hand. She wanted very badly to have this job. But she did not want to appear to be a wanton, ultra-submissive slavegirl. That might bring the wrong kind of attention to her.
Mistress Holly picked up a length of rope; cotton clothesline much like what Lynn had used the night before but not nearly so new and white. She motioned for Lynn to turn her back. There was no question, no asking of permission, no ordering, and no fighting against the coming helplessness. Both girls knew what was going to happen and the parts they had to play. Lynn placed her arms behind her with the palms together. She felt the loop go around her wrists and tighten down. Quickly her wrists were bound and cinched and knotted. Then another loop was around her elbows, pulling them closer and closer until they touched.
It was then that Lynn's resolve almost cracked. The elbows brought together forced her shoulders back and made her breasts stand out. The strain across her shoulders drove home the fact that she was now helpless. Her arms were tied behind her and she knew she could do nothing about it. This strange woman now had control of her; complete control. She could neither run nor effectively fight. She was naked and her arms were gone, and she realized that emotionally for the first time. This was not the same as thinking about it while lying on your bed and telling yourself that you can handle it. This was not the same as having your boyfriend tie your hands behind your back even though he did not understand and had to be told how to do it. And it was not the same as tying your own legs and hands in front of you and trying to sleep that way. This was real helplessness!
Lynn took in a deep breath and shuddered a little. She had tried to force herself not to, but all she could think about was the ropes crushing her arms together behind her. She wanted to fight those ropes, to tear them from her body, to free herself of them. It was an emotional reaction not easily put down. Fortunately the other woman chose that moment to speak to her.
“I'm glad your elbows touch easily behind your back. It makes for better bondage.”
Lynn was not sure that “easily” was the right word. They seemed pretty tightly forced to her. There was a natural strain on her shoulders as her arms tried to come apart but were held by the clothesline. But Lynn said nothing.
Mistress Holly finished tying the knots at her elbows and fetched another piece of rope, which she looped around Lynn's wrists bondage. Lynn swallowed hard. She knew what that rope was going to do to her. Wild thoughts raced through her mind, mostly urging her to beg off, to say that this was all a mistake and she really did not belong here. She swallowed down the urges, but she knew herself on the edge of panic. Only by thinking of her mission could she summon the inner strength to stand there calmly as her arms were being pulled up behind her. When she felt sure her shoulders would dislocate, Mistress Holly pulled them up an inch higher and tied the rope. Lynn felt rather than saw the rope going from her wrists up to the hook then back to be knotted at the wrists.
Lynn tried to not tremble or show any signs of fear, but the fear was there. She had thought she would be able to overcome it, to play the role, but now it was getting harder and harder. Mistress Holly was tying her ankles together. Lynn could look straight down and see the rope going around her ankles. With skilled fingers Mistress Holly wrapped then added cinch loops around the others. As she pulled the cinch ropes and tightened everything down, Lynn realized how similar that was to her own tying the night before. For some reason that thought calmed her, kept her away from the edge of panic, and even restored a degree of confidence.
“You tie very well,” she said, hoping the other woman did not notice the slight break in her voice.
“Comes from practice,” Mistress Holly commented absently. “You learn to tie well because if you don't, the girl gets free.” She stood up. “There. Try it.”
Lynn could not disobey. She tried to lift one foot then the other, but the ankle ropes were tight and she could see not one but several knots tied. Mistress Holly was careful. Lynn pulled at her arms a bit, tried to lower them but met with the failure she expected. She twisted her fingers back to see if she could reach the knots but found them beyond her grasp.
Mistress Holly looked into Lynn's eyes when the girl looked up to admit to the soundness of the bondage. For a few seconds they locked eyes, not in anger but some kind of understanding. The captor and captive, two girls who understood that the game must be played this way. That it was a serious game and the pain and discomfort and strain were very real made no difference. “The light will be out,” she said.
“I know,” Lynn replied.
“I won't be back for several hours.”
“I know.”
“You'll hurt.”
“I know.” Lynn sighed. She knew, but that did not change her determination to play the role. “I'll try to escape, you know.”
“That's expected.”
Mistress Holly turned to go, all things having been said. She stopped by the door and turned out the light.
“Mistress Holly?” Lynn called out.
“Yes?”
“That Colleen... She'll be let down soon?”
“Within the half hour. Her time is almost up.”
“Good,” said Lynn. She was not sure why it was important, but she was glad that the younger girl's suffering would soon be at an end.
“Goodbye,” said Mistress Holly, and there was darkness. Complete, absolute darkness.
Lynn waited for the panic to set in. That it did not, came as a surprise to her. She could sense it, waiting in the wings, looking for the chance to rush in and destroy her mind. But for the time she was reasonably calm. Somehow the thought of the teenager just next door, similarly bound and also in the dark, made it easier to take. That the girl would soon be released while Lynn was doomed to spend hours in this uncomfortable bondage dimmed that comfort some. She sighed and set to work exploring and testing the limits of her bondage in the dark. Perhaps if she could free herself...
First the fingers sought the knots binding her wrists and holding them suspended in the air. She knew that there should be two sets of knots, one for the rope around her wrists and one for the rope that pulled them up. Eager fingers searched and failed. She finally came to the conclusion that the knots had been tied between her wrists on the side of the ropes away from her fingers and probably the loose ends had been tucked in under the ropes for added security.
Failing to find knots to work loose she tried brute strength, with the predictable results. Jerking and tugging against the ropes holding her arms just hurt. After almost losing her balance in a hard jerk, Lynn ceased those efforts and accepted that she would not be removing the ropes from her arms by herself. For a while, mostly to pass the time, she worked at those cords holding her ankles. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other so she could try to lift the free foot out of the ropes. That might have worked with ropes less snug, but Mistress Holly knew what she was doing and did not mind applying the ropes tightly. Lynn finally settled down to standing and thinking - she could do nothing else.
This ordeal was not pleasant for Lynn. Having known that it, or something like it, would happen, helped little. Mistress Holly was as described to Lynn, shrewd, knowledgeable about matters of bondage and the application of pain to a helpless girl. Yet Lynn sensed that she could also be warm and friendly, once you proved yourself to her and she accepted you. That part also fitted in with what Lynn had been told. But, even if she won into the confidence of this Mistress Holly, she could never cease being on guard. These were dangerous waters she sailed, and constant vigilance was the price of survival.
Having plenty of time, Lynn reviewed the events leading up to her incarceration in the darkness of a strange room, a strange house, and a strange city. And, having finished her review, she again arrived at the conclusion that her present course of action was correct. Reminding herself of her purpose fortified her and made her more able to handle the horrors of her situation.
If only it were not so dark. Most rooms are not light-proof; somewhere light can come in from the outside, through a crack in the drapes, under the door, somewhere. But this room was so completely black that she was sure extra efforts had been made to make it that way. She was also sure that extra efforts had been applied to make the room soundproof. It would not have surprised her to find that screams could not be heard beyond that oak door.
Time passed, not rapidly, but it passed. Lynn knew this logically, but after an indefinable time she began to wonder. Surely it had been at least four hours since the door slammed on her. Muscles in her arms and shoulders and back were aching, protesting the enforced awkward position. It had taken a while for the aches and pains to set in, but they had and Lynn now suffered. Which was no help for her time sense. It must have been four hours, at least. Maybe more. Would Mistress Holly leave her here all day? Lynn knew this test was meant to be real, a sincere test of both her ability to take strict bondage and her aptitude for it. But what would a valid test consist of? Four hours of standing pain? Six? Perhaps eight. Was that not what Colleen had undergone? Lynn tried to remember. Yes, Colleen had said that she was tied there at midnight. Since it was just after eight when Lynn knocked on the door, the girl had already been standing there eight full hours! Lynn shifted, searching for a comfortably position, or at least one less painful. Could she take eight hours of this?
Did she have a choice?
The thoughts became more and more centered on the aches in her shoulders and back. It was so awkward bending forward, and when she let her head sag that pulled on already sore muscles. But it was not easy to hold her head up, either. Wryly, she told herself that this was certainly a good punishment position, a great way to keep a girl immobile, out of the way, and in increasingly growing pain. Then came a thought that made her laugh, in spite of the pain. This was exactly the way she had once tied another girl, a long time ago and far away. But the laugh faded as she remembered who that girl had been.
There came a point when Lynn could no longer hold her agony inside. She gave expression to the pain in her body with low moans and an occasional, pitiful call for help. After an eternity, Lynn was fighting back the urge to scream out loud. Only the thought that screaming might mean she would fail the test held her tongue. Putting it between her teeth and biting down helped, too.
Just when the screams were about to come regardless, the door opened and the light suddenly blasted against her eyes. Her slowly returning vision revealed Mistress Holly was standing before her, hands on hips, head tilted to one side, an expression of inquiry on her face. Lynn swallowed and put all her strength into a brave and, she hoped appropriate for a professional submissive, front. “Your ropework is very good. I tried very hard to free myself but failed. I compliment you.” She forced a smile to go with the words.
Mistress Holly smiled back. Lynn hoped that meant she was striking the right cord. It was important to get this job. Very important. Knowing that time judgment is tricky under such circumstances, Lynn took a wild guess, “I enjoyed the time here. Two hours it was, I believe?” She was emotionally certain it was closer to six.
“Three,” said Mistress Holly. Was that respect in her voice? Lynn almost sighed. A submissive girl who underestimated the time spent in darkness and strict bondage must be a true submissive, and well experienced with being in such severe bondage.
Mistress Holly untied the ropes and Lynn tried not to cry out when her arms came down. She could not hold back a moan, but Mistress Holly did not seem to notice. Or, if she did, she did not find it strange or a weakness for a girl hung up for three hours to express some discomfort. Lynn regained her clothes and followed Mistress Holly back to her office. Once there she was offered coffee, which she refused, then tea, which she accepted. The tea serving was brought in by another girl, a dark haired young Mexican girl.