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As she rode through the dreary Devonshire farm country in the Daimler Touring CA6, Dylis DuFrayne seemed the picture of a very proper young lady.  A Janet Gaynor beret poised smartly atop her mass of Mary Pickford curls and the rest of her shapely person was covered with a velvet cape and heavy lap robe.  She was unusually still, eyes pointed straight ahead, hands clasped quietly in her lap, and knees and ankles pressed firmly together.

There was a reason, of course.  Underneath the cape, a broad cowhide belt compressed her waist almost to a point of torment and fastened to it, leather cuffs imprisoned her wrists.  Ankles and knees were also bound, and her apparent unconcern for the sights around her, dismal though they were, was simply a device to keep the chauffeur from leering at her through the rear view mirror.

The belt arrived along with a letter of admission to finishing school, and naturally Lady Middlesex had to make her contribution, "Why, it's the same sort of device I wore on my first day.  The Baronessa is most particular about how her pupils arrive there.  Let me do it up for you, dear."  And do it up she did, lacing and hooking it far tighter than it needed to be, with Uncle standing by and saying not a word about Dylis's discomfort.  But then he never objected to anything that peroxide vamp did.  Ever since Lord Middlesex had died at age 89, his widow was spending a dreadful amount of time with Uncle.  What he saw in that slinky, insincere creature Dylis could never fathom.  And she was old, almost 30.  Dylis wondered if she was being sent away so that Uncle could spend more time with her.

After public school she had hoped for a trip to the continent, but Lady Middlesex suggested finishing school instead.  Uncle demurred only slightly.  "But isn't than a rum sort of place?  Dylis is only 18.  Might be a big rough for her."

"Best thing in the world.  She'll come back quite the charming sophisticate, and perhaps lose some of those milkmaid mannerisms.  And maybe the odd kilo or two."  Her lady ship was always being hateful about Dylis's burgeoning figure, which Uncle used to fancy so.  "A right handful you're becoming my girl," he would say during their good-night kiss.  But that was before the unfortunate passing of Lord Middlesex.

With all the talk about sophistication and svelte figures, Dylis hoped that finishing school would be the sort of place where she would be taught to smoke cigarettes and drink cocktails and maybe learn some of those smashing American dances like the bunny hug.  But then the arrival of the belt and the way Lady Middlesex insisted she dress made her wonder.  A black velvet party frock seemed a bit much for first day at school, but with it she should have been allowed silk stockings and heels.  Lady Middlesex, however, insisted upon coarse black woolen knee hose and flat-heeled slippers with straps and buckles.

When the car arrived to take her there, it got worse.  Uncle had given her only the briefest goodbye kiss, and then turned her over to the oily-looking chauffeur who seemed not the least bit surprised that she was truss up like a Newgate felon.  After she was settled in the back seat, he actually had the impertinence to introduce himself.  Guido, he said his name was, as he calmly produced a pair of worn-looking luggage straps and then, without so much as a by-your-leave, fastened them around her ankles over the horrid black stockings.  Then around her legs just above the knee where there were no stockings, no skirt, no anything, 'just leg'.  It did seem he was an awfully long time about it.  She could smell the cheap heliotrope pomade that greased up his hair and was fairly certain what he had for lunch.  He wound and adjusted and tightened the knee straps until Dylis began to get quite squirmy and found it difficult to breathe due to the tightness of the belt, of course, she would definitely have to report this liberty to his employer upon her arrival.

Whatever the reason for the restraints, they did make her frightfully curious about just what sort of finishing school she was being sent to.  As they drove on in the late November afternoon, she was quite warm and snug under the lap robe, but the inability to move her legs caused her feet to start to chill.

Well, Lady Middlesex had been there and survived, but then she was the teacher and Dylis was just one of the pupils.  The other girls in class all seemed so small by comparison.  And quite an improper costume Lady Middlesex was wearing.  It seemed to consist of French under things of the more risque sort.  Was it to impress Uncle?  He couldn't even see her since he was sitting in the corner with that silly pointed cap on his head.  She hadn't noticed before, but aside from the cap, he was entirely naked.  Lady Middlesex had asked him a question, and when he didn't respond properly, she picked up a horrible looking pointer thing from the desk and started towards him.  Dylis had to save him from that vicious creature, but she couldn't get free from the iron shackle which chained her ankle to the desk.

She awoke to find that the car had stopped and Guido had already removed the straps from her ankles and was busy with the ones biting into her thighs.  Off they came in short order.  He was most efficient now that they were at the school, and kept glancing over his shoulder as if he were being watched.  Not a bad sort, really.  Perhaps Dylis would not have him discharged after all.  They had parked under a porte cochere on the side, but even from there she could see that the house was enormous, larger even than Uncle's.  Guido helped her out and up to the heavy, studded oaken door.

It was opened by a frivolous-looking maid whose heels were too high and spiky, and whose skirt was far too short and frilly.  Behind her stood a young woman dressed entirely in gray, with no trace of makeup.  The maid had on enough both of them.

"My name is Miss Malverna, I'm prefect here, and you may address me as such.  You're Miss DuFrayne, of course."

"How do you know?  I'm sorry I can't shake hands until you unfasten me."

"I'm afraid I haven't the key.  You must wait for Baronessa.  Cosette will see to your things."  Miss Malverna was quite pretty, but so serious and worried looking.

"But this is terribly awkward.  How am I to manage tea?"

"You will have tea when Baronessa feels you are worthy of it.  The stockings, Cosette."

"I was certainly worthy before I came here, and I don't suppose anything has happened to make me less so...  what is that girl doing?" In her dismay at possibly being deprived of cream cake and buttery scones, Dylis had ignored Cosette until she discovered her kneeling and unfastening the strap of her right slipper and ever so gently slipping it off.

As the maid placed Dylis's stockinged foot on her bulging thigh well underneath the skirt, Dylis could actually feel with her toes the severe indentation made by the maid's too tight garters.  And now quite brazenly, she was slowly drawing her black woolen stocking down, baring the creamy softness of a rounded, voluptuous calf.  Miss Malverna explained.

"You will learn many things while at finishing school.  First and foremost, humility and discipline.  During your first day you will experience our three B's.  You will be bound, barefoot, and blindfolded.  The lack of footwear is to make you humble, and the lack of sight reminds you that we have complete control over all of your person and that you are entirely dependent upon us.  As for the bondage, well...  " And her eyes grew misty.  " ...that is our way here at finishing school."

"That's perfectly horrid!" Dylis protested.  "You have no right to treat me as some sort of beggar girl or escaped criminal."  As a matter of fact, the way Cosette was slowly and lovingly inching down the stocking, exposing her elegant winter whiteness, one would think that Dylis was royalty of a very precious sort.

"Your uncle has given us every right over you, miss.  You are still a minor, you know.  Cosette, do get on with it, Please."

But Cosette was in a world beyond reach as she slowly rolled down the black hose, denuding the sweetly curved ankle, exposing the rosy pink heel and the splendidly hollowed arch.  She paused as if the sight of the plump and saucy toes would be too much richness all at once.  Then, taking the plunge, she swiftly stripped bare and then cradled in both hands the very pretty foot of Miss Dylis DuFrayne.

Her gentle massage and caresses drove away the chill that had possessed Dylis en route and for that she was grateful.  But the girl was acting strangely, murmuring to herself, "Ah, quel pied merveilleux."  Was she actually going to kiss her there?  Respect was quite proper in a servant, but Dylis felt that Cosette was going miles beyond.  Miss Malverna effectively broke the maid's preoccupation with Dylis's pearly toe nails.

"Cosette, Baronessa will be wondering where her new pupil is."  The mere name seemed to work wonders.  What a horrid old dragon the Baronessa must be.  Miss Malverna continued, "When Cosette finally gets around to baring both your feet, she will bind your eyes and then take you to the library where you will await Baronessa.  It's terribly important to make a good impression your first day, so please be on your best behavior."

"Will I have my tea there?" Cosette had started on the left stocking and Dylis began to find her worshipful attentions rather pleasing, even though they were making her squirmy again.  Miss Malverna ignored the question.  "Another thing you may as well start getting used to, miss.  You will speak only when asked to speak and until your first meeting with Baronessa, you will speak not at all!"

"That is positively medieval This is 1930, not 1630."  She wanted to stamp her foot to express displeasure, but the left one was being cuddled by Cosette who seemed about to bring it next to her cheek and she was balanced on the right one.  And that one was getting cold again.

"Cosette, if Miss DuFrayne does not obey our rules, feel free to gag her with one of her stockings."

"Oui, mademoiselle."  The maid reluctantly got to her feet, letting her hand stray up the rounded loveliness of Dylis's left calf, stopping only when she had found the indentations where the strap had cut into her lower thigh, providing Cosette with yet another secret thrill.  Then she adjusted a white silk scarf over Dylis's eyes and knotted it firmly behind her abundant blonde curls.

Dylis heard a sigh of relief from Miss Malverna as if she had been through an ordeal.  Then, almost as an afterthought, the prefect said, "Welcome to finishing school, Miss DuFrayne."  Her footsteps could be heard retreating in the distance, and Dylis turned to where she imagined Cosette to be.

"What will you do with my stockings then?"

"Ah, they are my treasure."  Which was not the sort of reply that Dylis had expected.  She felt Cosette gently take her upper arm above the elbow and urge her forward.  The brisling carpet under her tender soles gave way to polished hardwood which had absorbed the November chill.  "My feet are cold."

"Shh.  Remember the gag of stocking."

Dylis assumed that whispering didn't count, so she whispered, "But you said you were going to keep them."

"I'll make do with just one."  Dylis was afraid to ask "make do what?" for a number of reasons.

The trip seemed to take forever, and as Cosette guided her expertly around furniture and through doorways, she suddenly became aware that, although the maid's hand was firmly holding her upper arm, one of her fingers was able to make little circles on the side of her right bosom.  Before she had a chance to ask her to stop, they came to a sudden halt.  Dylis felt carpet under foot once again, and her knees bumped into a chair as Cosette guided her onto the creaky leather she noticed a distinct odor of musty books and wood smoke, and she heard the crackle of the fireplace but felt no heat.  Her feet were getting colder.

Cosette was leaning over her then, and one of her sly fingers tapped Dylis's lips.  "Remember miss, no speech before the permission."  But before Dylis could even nod in reply, the maid placed both hands on her cheeks, caressing her face as gently as she had her feet, and slowly and lingeringly kissed her fully on the mouth.  The kiss grew from the merest graze, then proceeded to nibbling, then to tonguing, and eventually to suction.  When it finally ended and Cosette drew away with a tiny thread of saliva still connecting them, Dylis was in a mild state of shock.

A door closed behind the departing Cosette.  The absolute cheek of that servant!  First the chauffeur, and now the maid.  She knew that a house this size was sure to have a large staff.  What of the cook and the gardener?  Would she have to submit to all their demented Mediterranean fancies?

The kiss had left Dylis in a wretched state of confusion.  First, she was terribly upset to find that the maid kissed just like Uncle did.  Second, she was definitely squirmy again, and found herself unconsciously frictioning her bare thighs under her petticoat.  Dylis wondered about the state of her kickers.  Thank goodness no one could see her.  Or could they?  Suppose the Baronessa were here watching.  Maybe this was some kind of test she gave to new pupils.  It was all too horrible.  Her immense feelings of self-pity brought on tears, and she calculated the effect when the Baronessa took off her blindfold and saw it sopping from all the inhuman treatment she had been subjected to.  Just so long as she didn't see how wet her under things were.  Then she heard the noise.

Self-pity gave way to panic.  Someone or something was in the room, and seemed to be moving towards her in fits and starts.  She heard the floor creak and the sound of breathing.  Whatever else it might be, it was human.  She drew little comfort from that fact.  More footsteps, then a pause and getting closer all the time.  Would she have to ask permission if she wanted to scream?

Then all at once Dylis caught a distinct whiff of garlic, olive oil, and hair pomade.  "Mr. Guido, is that you?"

"Ah, signorina," the chauffeur replied nervously.  "So helpless you look.  The binding, the eyes, the feet...

"Yes," she said with some relief, assuming he had given her permission to speak.  "They are terribly exposed and cold.  I do hope you're not looking at them."  To be fully dressed in lace and black velvet but naked below the knees, somehow seemed the height of indecency ever since that Cosette person had been at her.

"Cold?  Guido fix for you.  Make warm."  Dylis could hear a chair being moved opposite hers, then he sat down and seemed to be making some adjustments to his clothing.  Finally he bend very close to her and picking up both ankles in a firm grip, put them in his lap Dylis gave a fluttery little sigh.  This was the first act of kindness she had experienced all afternoon.

As Guido slowly drew both frigid young feet forward, Dylis could feel different textures under her sensitive soles.  First the rough twill of his uniform jodhpurs, then a smoother fabric which she took to be his shirt.  Suddenly the littlest toe of her right foot was stubbed on the arm of the chair.  At least she thought it was the arm of the chair.  But it was awfully warm and was right in the middle of Guido's lap.  She heard him gasp as her right foot explored the object further.  It was round and smooth and seemed to be alive.  Now both feet were groping and searching like two blind, little newborn puppies.  The object was ever so long and stiff, and was growing out of a mass of what she assumed to be horse hair stuffing from the chair.

Good heavens!  It couldn't be the chair.  Could it be Guido?  Could it be one of those male things that the girls used to whisper about after lights out?  She was afraid to ask him because his hoarse rattling and heavy breathing made her concerned about the state of his health.  She knew that all men had things of that sort, even Uncle, she supposed.  But she had no idea they were so huge.  Where does he keep it?  and why hadn't she noticed it in the car?  It might be some kind of deformity, and once she was given permission to speak, she would recommend medical treatment for the swelling.  Or perhaps corrective surgery.

Her inquiring little feet continued feeling about and found a pouch-like arrangement containing two small rocks or two very large stones.  Guido positively whimpered when she clenched her limber-jointed toes around them.  He mumbled something about his mother, or perhaps it was the Mother of God.  With Latin languages, one could never be sure.

Dylis was becoming quite adept at exploring now, and her delicate little nether digits continued to play scales on Guido's instrument.  The thought occurred that some of her elders might consider this barefoot probing to be rather improper behavior for a well brought-up young lady.  However, she was completely blindfolded and couldn't actually see his great stiffening rod, so modesty was well preserved.  And she was not, indeed with her cruel wrist bindings she was incapable of, touching him with her hands or fingers.  In case Uncle should ask about it later.

She measured the staff from pouch to hooded crown with both feet end to end and found it almost as long as they were.  Dylis had it now firmly captured between her cunning arches, and she began a vigorous massage.  Perhaps she could make the swelling go down.  At least it improved circulation, both his and hers.  She did wish he could be quieter, though.  With his panting and groaning she fully expected him to break into an operatic aria at any moment.

Suddenly several things happened at once.  A door slammed.  Booted heels approached.  and Guido and his instrument both seemed to convulse as his chair overturned and Dylis' hyperactive feet dropped to the floor.  Angry and supplicating voices were heard.  "Perdonare, perdonare.  Scusa me, Baronessa."

Basta, Cretino."  The swashy sound of blows.  More footsteps, then the door again.  And silence while Dylis held her breath.

"Miss Dylis DuFrayne, is it not?" The accent was purest Mayfair.  The scent was Chypre and expensively treated animal hide, and when the blindfold was snatched away, the sight of the Baronessa was overwhelming.  Amazonian and terrifyingly beautiful, she was dressed in four different kinds of leather, not counting the ostrich-hid pony whip she carried.  Except for a small lightning bolt of white in front of her exquisitely coifed midnight hair, she looked not much older than Miss Malverna.

"And what have those erotic little toes of yours been up to?  Not here an hour and already you've seduced two of the staff."  Dylis thought of several replies, but wisely kept them to herself as the Baronessa continued.  "We must provide a suitable punishment for such vile indiscretions, mustn't we?"

Dylis dropped her eyes to the floor and noticed a puddle of some white, gruelly stuff in front of her.  It was all over her right instep as well.  She tried to wipe it off with her left sole.  At least her feet weren't cold any more.