Being a Girl by Chloë Thurlow Read Free Book Online Page B

cheeks. Binky’s hand made the same journey, over my back, then through the crack in mybottom where she found the same oily wetness, the smell of our arousal so rich and shocking it took my breath away. We were the same height, the same size, and it was like touching yourself, like masturbating.
    When the Laird’s big hands rested in the middle of our shoulders, one on each side, the mood was disturbed, the passion drifting away like the swell of the tide retreating back to sea.
    â€˜Shush, now, shush. Be still.’
    His voice was a chant and when we realised what was happening it was already too late. Byron was on his knees attaching leather straps to our ankles, binding us together. We struggled, but the Laird’s hands pressed like the jaws of a vice and we were paralysed. Byron strapped our wrists, swiftly, with skilful fingers, right to left, and we had to widen our legs to keep balance.
    The Laird still kept his hands on our backs. I looked up to plead with him but his eyes were glazed. He was staring across the room at the portrait of the lady and I imagined with a sick feeling the long history of debauchery that haunted this secluded manor house.
    Byron dragged a heavy dining chair towards us and the Laird stepped up on the red upholstered seat. Immediately above on the beam were two hooks. Byron passed the Laird two lengths of leather which he attached. He reached down for our bound wrists, the swivel join between the straps allowing him to hoist our arms above our heads. He connected our wrists to the straps, first one side, then the other. We struggled, even though it was pointless. Byron was holding Binky because she looked as if she were ready to faint and, though I squirmed and screamed, I couldn’t move, and there was no one to hear me. TheLaird tightened the straps in such a way that our feet only just touched the ground.
    How did this happen? Did we bring it upon ourselves? We had taken our clothes off, not willingly, but we hadn’t put up that much of a fight. I had stood there proud of my full breasts and firm pink nipples. Binky, too, she was just the same, her silky white body displayed so shamelessly in the firelight. While the Laird had been testing us, I’d thought I’d been testing him.
    He stood down, stroking our damp flesh, a potter making a vase, over our backs and around the swell of our backsides. There is nothing more humiliating than to bind two girls in this way, and the Laird was aware of his masterwork as he paused to study us, our arms stretched above our heads, our stomachs pulled in, our bottoms thrust out. We were exposed and vulnerable in every way.
    It was the most degrading thing that had ever happened to me and yet, and yet, there was a part of me that wanted to know what was going to happen next. What could happen next? I’m not sure why, but I kissed Binky. Not a snog like before, just a kiss to say it was all right. We would get through this. Tears rolled down her cheeks, one after the other, and I licked them away. Byron moved the chair back to its place at the table. The Laird circled us.
    â€˜Two wee sisters,’ he said, a tone of awe in his voice. ‘Now, girls, I want you to scream as loud and as long as you can. Do it for an old hill farmer, just to bring a bit of pleasure into my life.’
    I lifted my head and stared at him, made him focus. ‘What are you going to do?’ I demanded.
    â€˜I’m going to give you want you need, girlie.’
    He clicked his fingers and Byron went to the walnut dresser against the wall. He opened the top drawer, removed something, and closed the drawer again. He returned and placed across the Laird’s two outstretched palms a leather riding crop with an ornamental tassel.
    â€˜I’m going to thrash you, lassie. That round bottom you keep pushing oot is going to be tanned until it’s raw.’
    I don’t know where I got the courage from, but I spat in his face, an