excerpt from:
 Hit 207
Valley of
Captive Maidens
by F.E. Campbell
It was a knock on the door that woke me. Marlow was instantly out of the bed, gun in his hand. I was a little groggy from sleep but he was on his feet, ready for anything. It was the servant Maria. She had a small piece of material which she presented to Marlow with a shy smile. Then she was gone.
Marlow held up the skirt and looked at it, imagining, I’m sure, what I would look like in it.
“No! I will not wear that thing. It’s obscene!” Marlow grinned and put it on the bed. I pulled my feet away from it. “Let’s get something straight,” he said firmly. “We are the guests of Don Mendosa. This place is far from any civilization you or I know, and it has it’s own rules. But if he thinks girls should walk around in these short skirts, then I won’t argue with him. I think it would please him to see you in this skirt, so you’ll wear it to dinner to please him.” Then he grinned. “And me.”
I sniffed. Those steel handcuffs were heavy upon my wrists and ankles, and reminded me that I was a prisoner. “It’s not decent.”
“I agree. But you’re not at a church social. You’re my prisoner and you’ll wear whatever I want you to.”
I sniffed again. “Every well,” I said as haughtily as I could. “You may call Maria to come and dress me. Unless you wish to unlock these handcuffs?”
His reply was as even more shocking to me than the thought of wearing that skirt in the first place. He lifted me to my feet, then pulled down my peasant skirt until it was laying on the floor around my ankles. I started to cry out in anger but his strong arms went around my body and picked me up. When he set me down, it was next to the skirt on the floor. Since I had not been given any undergarments, my private area was in plain sight. I was shocked and speechless. I tried to cover my pubic area with one leg crossed over the other but almost fell down.
“What the hell are you ashamed about?” he asked. “You’ve got terrific legs and a nice pussy.”
I guessed that pussy was a slang term for my pubic patch. Or for the whole private area. And a part of me glowed inside at his praise for my legs. I blushed under his gaze which, for the first time, openly admired my sexual attributes. I began to turn my back when I realized that would give him a good view of my bottom. Well, that would be better than having him stare at my... my “pussy.” I turned my back to him.
The slap across my bottom was a surprise. And it hurt. But it told me who was boss in that room. This man could hurt me a great deal. And I wasn’t sure that Don Mendosa would do a thing to prevent him. Hell, that Mexican would probably enjoy watching him rough me up.
“Very well,” I sniffed. “I will wear that... That thing. But I won’t like it.” Right after I said it, I realized how ridiculous it sounded.
Marlow helped me put the skirt on. It was good to get my private parts covered up, even if it wasn’t much in the way of covering. So long as I was standing the lower edge of the material came to just below my bottom. I wasn’t even sure that just walking wouldn’t reveal too much to any watcher. And the idea of sitting down gave me a shiver.
“You look fine,” Marlow told me. Then he reached over and untied the string that held up the top of my peasant blouse. If he let go of the string, the whole top would fall down, exposing my breasts totally. But he retied it with, I might add, the neckline much lower that it had been before. Before the beginning of my breast was visible over the top of the blouse. Now my breasts were exposed almost down to the nipple.
“You can’t be serious!” I protested. “I can’t go to dinner looking like this. The girls at Ned’s Saloon don’t even show this much!”
He sighed. “Brenda,” he began as if explaining something to a child, “you are totally under my control. If I want you to go to dinner completely naked, you will. I can always drag you there by your hair. Now, one more word out of you and you’ll be going naked.”
I shut up. I really believed that he would do it. Dinner was sort of formal. There were candles and wonderful smelling food. Don Mendosa was sitting at the end of the table and rose when I came shuffling in. I blushed as his eyes traveled up and down my legs, devouring my flesh. But his seeming to like what he saw very much made a part of me feel proud. A girl likes to be admired by men.
Melinda was already sitting at the table and I could see that her arms were still bound behind her back with the elbows tight together. I cringed inside at the thought of being tied that way since morning. How would she be able to sleep tonight? She would be in pain all night, I was sure. But she seemed not to be in any pain right now. She was demure but her youthful eyes looked at me with interest. As I approached the table I wondered if her ankles were still tied together. I couldn’t see her feet, they were tucked in under the chair, but I had the feeling that they were still bound.
In fact, I was getting the feeling that Melinda’s being punished with bound arms was not very unusual around this house. Every person I had met so far had showed no surprise at my hands being tied, and now handcuffed. Marie was placing food on the table as Marlow held out my seat, and she showed no interest in my chained up condition or the ridiculously short skirt. There was something very different about this place.
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