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continuing her punishment. That knowledge did little to relieve the constant torment of the weights burdening her pussy lips but it did offer some solace.
    â€˜Was it really that public, sire?’ Ginger asked.
    He nodded.
    â€˜Were things really done where people could see?’ she pressed.
    He laughed at the question. ‘Discretion has always been the hallmark of a true baron – we seldom expose our dominance on the streets in broad daylight – but, until the last days of the twentieth century, it wasn’t uncommon for us to publicly horsewhip a favourite at one function or another. Charity balls were often held in this very hall, the door charge being generously donated to sick children or bleeding-heart-liberals or some other undeserving cause. The charities were always grateful to receive the money yet I suspect each one of them would have balked at the idea of what had been done to raise their alms.’
    Ginger murmured in toadying agreement.
    More sceptical by nature, Lucy listened to what the master was saying and thought his view of the past was heavily romanticised. She knew mastery and slavery had always existed – felt sure it would always continue to exist – but she doubted it had recently been as public as the master seemed to remember.Only two years earlier she had lived with the norms in the real world and, if it hadn’t been for a chance meeting that had made her one of Donald’s favourites, she would have still been there. Easily recalling her time as a free woman, Lucy was well aware that the majority of norms were all but oblivious to the baronial subculture of sadomasochism and misogyny.
    Donald sighed heavily. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘while I miss the functions, and the social aspect of mastery, I suppose it’s the chase I miss most of all. That used to be the greatest fun.’
    â€˜The chase?’ Ginger asked.
    Lucy had thought the woman had forgotten she was in the process of delivering a punishment but that idea was brushed from her mind when Ginger strummed her fingers against the length of chain. Fresh jolts of anguish rippled through Lucy’s pussy and they were followed by a burgeoning desire to climax. She brushed the thought away, determined she would pass out before giving into an orgasm in this shameful, humiliating position, but it was nearly impossible to ignore her body’s response. Her breathing deepened as the anguish at her sex went beyond being unbearable.
    Indifferent to Lucy’s suffering, Ginger asked, ‘What was the chase, sire?’
    He smiled as though returning to a fond memory. ‘The chase was the most fun ever,’ he explained. ‘An occasional favourite would abscond and, back in the golden days, it was the duty of every serious baron to retrieve his property. The chase was always thrilling for me, wondering if she was looking for a more benevolent master, trying to prove her worth, or possibly leave her servitude behind for good. Tracking her down, cornering her and then punishing her . . .’
    His voice trailed off as the smile fell from his lips.
    Lucy thought he looked like a man who had just realised he was remembering fond times that he would never see again.
    â€˜How could you track a slave down?’ Ginger asked. ‘Surely, once they were out in the normal world, a slave looks pretty much like anyone else.’
    Lucy wondered if the master might respond angrily to the interruption but he seemed to treat it as a valid point. ‘There was only a short period of time when a slave could be caught,’ he explained. ‘Think about it. If you were to leave here, where would be the first place you would go?’
    Ginger strummed the chain again as she considered her reply.
    Lucy thrashed against the table. If her hands had been free she would have banged her fists against the wood.
    â€˜I guess I’d have to find a home, and a source of income,’ Ginger thought