"Hurt?" said Donna.

"A little."

"This is stupid," said Donna. "Here I am strung up like a medieval witch. I should be yellin' my head off but no, not Donna, my nipples are all long and sexy like I enjoyed this bit!"

"You think mine aren't?" laughed Pamela.

"Maybe girls just like this kinky stuff!"

"Anyway," said Donna, "it's nice to feel you against me. Takes away some of the hurting."

"Feeling is mutual, honey," replied Pamela.

"Does seem easier when we share it together. Hope we always get punished together."

"I'd like that, Pam."

An hour dragged by without, a sign of Jan. The girls found that it was much easier not to squirm or move, but,just to hang quietly.

"Wanna kiss a little?" asked Donna. "Maybe it'll take our mind off this bloody thing."

"We can try it," said Pamela.

The kissing did help, but it also caused some other problems.

"Hey," said Pamela, "my pants are gettin' wet from kissing you, girl. Maybe we better ease off and cool it!"

"I know. I can feel you down there," said Donna.

"Right you are, Pam. We'll just get ourselves all in a lather."

In the long run, it was better to do nothing. Idle chatter for awhile was helpful, but that soon ran out too, and thus the two girls followed the pat,tern of a thousand girls before them. They hung silently and naturally from their cords. The Romans knew it and the Egyptians knew it. Girls could hang for- ever if required, such was the mystery of a female.

History made no difference, or age of a female as well. Babylonian females hung by their thumbs in silken skirts. London birds of 1972 hung in skin- tight panties and stockings. Girls had not changed, only the clothes.

Pamela and Donna hung for three hours before their mistress returned. Jan found what she had expected on their faces. The flippancy and humor were gone, replaced with a strained reality, and the observable signs of submission. The first real truth was there, unmistakably, in their eyes. They knew that they were indeed slaves, regardless of the time in history.