by Van © 2024
		Chapter 6

Pru gazed down at the stone floor, an angry frown on her pouting face as she trudged down the corridor.  For once she was in the lead, in front of Brie, Grace, and Lizzie instead of being dragged behind. 

Piddling minor details aside, like accusations of being a disobedient miscreant and therefore sentenced to horrible punishment by Her Ladyship, Pru thought it was really good to be home, and she'd always thought of Amberdale Castle as her home, almost more so than the cozy cottage in the nearby village her family had occupied as part of their compensation package for being senior Hardy family retainers.  It seemed like she'd spent the vast majority of her childhood playing with The Honorable Brats (and Brie) in the castle.  Even the dry smell of the stone-dust in the back corridors was homey.

Anyway...  Dressed in a standard castle maid's uniform (not counting her only underwear being a steel chastity belt, shoes that were high-heeled pumps with padlocked ankle straps, and the steel shock collar locked around her neck), Pru trudged along with Brie following closely behind.

The Disciplinarian-of-the-Day had found a riding crop somewhere and was using it to transmit "navigational guidance" in the form of irritating, humiliating and stinging whacks on Pru's buttocks and the backs of her thighs whenever they came to a turn.  Pru's hands were still tied behind her back, so she ought to have been able to use them to at least try and shield her anatomy, but Brie was skilled at finding vulnerable targets.  She always had been, and in any case, stinging slaps on her hands weren't exactly a pleasant alternative.  Pru almost wished she was back on a rope leash and strolling along behind her "childhood chum," but it wasn't her choice to make.

Mainly, however, Pru's thoughts were about Cat, her lover, who (at the moment, and for many moments to come) was naked, box-tie-bound, shock-collared (like Pru), ball-gagged, caged, encased in a closely confining upright steel sarcophagus disguised as a suit of medieval armor, and on public display in an alcove directly above the Grand Staircase of Amberdale's Grand Entryway.  No doubt Cat was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the first of the day's tour groups and/or miscellaneous tourist visitors.  That way she could start being totally ignored by the crowd while the noisy throng ogled her encasement and the other historical exhibits, totally oblivious to her totally helpless and immobilized presence.  It would be horrible, but better than the colossal boredom of total encasement.

Pru remembered the one and only time she'd been incarcerated in the very same manner in the very same sarcophagus.  It had been years prior, of course, when she was still a teenager and before she'd left the castle to begin her career as a fashion model and actress.  It had been... horrible.  Her only diversion had been watching the noisily chatting tour groups through the helmet's vision-slit.  That was why Pru was so confident Cat would be thinking that people-watching was better than total helplessness and isolation.

Better, of course, would be to be stylishly clothed, neither bound nor gagged nor encased in a steel sarcophagus, and sitting in a comfy chair behind a small café table tucked away in one of the Entryway's many out-of-the-way nooks and crannies and enjoying a nice cuppa (black tea with milk and a plate of biscuits) while watching the parade—but such was not the fate decreed by The Evil Brie for the unfortunate Cat.  Anyway, Pru-the-teenager had survived her encasement, and so would her lover.  Whether Cat would ever forgive Pru for luring her to Castle Amberdale to be captured and tormented by Pru's childhood friends was another matter altogether (and an open question).  Pru heaved a tragic sigh. 

By the way, while it was not exactly public knowledge, there were many dedicated and cleverly camouflaged languishing venues scattered throughout the castle.  That is, there were numerous secret, cleverly camouflaged, and totally secure hiding places where one could sequester a bound and gagged damsel and abandon her to rot.  Some Tudor estates had "priest holes," secret hiding places built to conceal Catholic clerics (and other dangerous reprobates) from agents of the Crown.  Amberdale Castle had "Damsel Holes," none of which were on the tour.

And then there were the more spacious and "traditional" spaces down below and up above.  Yes, Amberdale Castle had actual dungeons, as well as prison cells for housing prisoners.  Some were subterranean and some were located atop various towers.  Most of the tower cells had small windows (with bars), some were crudely furnished, some were plain, and many were accessorized with dangling manacles and shackles with long chains attached to the walls.   All had thick, heavy, very solid timber doors with iron banding and heavy-duty hinges and they locked from the outside.  Her Ladyship had medieval penal accommodations available for something in the neighborhood of... fifty damsels?"  (With a little crowding, of course.)  And that was in addition to the many comfortable and fully furnished guestrooms that became dungeons only when their occupants discovered that secondary security mechanisms had been engaged and they'd been locked in.

And then there were the castle's torture chambers!  They were all terrifying, clever, and fully functional, with typical furnishings, meaning torture engines and/or machines, as well as... infernal devices!

There was one large, spacious, and fully equipped official Torture Chamber, of course, with the expected rack, horse, bondage table, bondage chair, whipping posts, St. Andrew's cross, etc., etc.  That place was scary.  There were also smaller chambers dedicated solely to specific "recreational activities," all of which contained a single elaborate, complicated, and often quite ingenious furnishing, engine, machine, and/or infernal device.  Examples that Pru knew about from personal experience, both as torturer and victim, were the dreaded Chinese Water Torture Chamber, the dreaded Clockwork Rack Chamber, the dreaded Tickling Chamber (home to a pendulum driven machine with multiple rotating and oscillating feather dusters), and the dreaded Frozen Shower Chamber!

That last venue featured a horizontal five-point-star-shaped bondage frame of thick timbers upon which the victim was lashed by her wrists, ankles, thighs, waist, chest, etc., etc., then subjected to the slow, slow drip of ice water from numerous large chunks of slowly melting ice suspended in strategically positioned iron baskets directly over said victim!  Also, when the chamber was in use, a pair of large brassieres were kept burning to keep the place stiflingly hot.  That meant the victim was overheated and shining with sweat, which meant the arrival of random icy droplets on her flushed and glistening skin was especially unwelcome and inconsiderate.  Teenager Pru had really hated that place (but only when it was her turn to be the victim).

Anyway, Pru knew exactly where Cat, the hostage to her good behavior, was stashed.  So, once Brie set her to whatever onerous domestic task she had in mind, Pru's obvious plan would be to sneak away and rescue her languishing lover... which meant that Brie's counter-plan would be that Pru would find the sarcophagus/armor empty as Cat would have been moved to a different and unknown languishing location.

Then, when Brie and the Brats caught up with her, Pru wouldn't put it past a cruel and imaginative taskmaster like Sabrina Walker (and sadistic minions) would have the perfect excuse to inflict additional punishments on Poor Prudence... and Pru had no choice but to "cooperate" and perform whatever additional demeaning and onerous jobs were set for her!  It would be... humiliating.  The very prospect was humiliating.

They passed from the servant to the family side of the castle.  Pru knew exactly where she was, which was well off the tour route and protected by many intervening rope barriers and locked doors designed to ensure the privacy of Lady Paulina, her daughters, and the senior staff (including Pru's wicked older sister Hannah and The Evil Brie).

The journey continued and Brie directed Pru—Whack!—to the Main Library.  The space was quite expansive, encompassed two stories, and the walls were lined with tall bookshelves containing thousands of books with leather bindings and gilded titles.  Tall ladders running along horizontal wooden tracks provided access to the upper shelves.

The only thing out of place was a cleaning cart parked beside the door.  It held the usual domestic supplies, such as a stack of neatly folded tack cloths, several feather dusters, and tins of polishing wax; and next to the cart stood an powerful and expensive rechargeable vacuum cleaner.

"You'll start with the high dusting," Brie ordered.  "Every shelf, starting at the top and working your way down.  You don't have to individually clean every books, but dust all the wood—shelves, tables, reading lamps, and chairs—then vacuum the floor.  That should keep you occupied for most of the day."

Pru glowered at Brie as Grace stepped behind her and untied her wrists.  She continued glowering as she rubbed her wrists.  Grace grinned and coiled the rope/cord... then tossed it to Lizzie (who was also grinning).

Pru knew that using a tack-cloth to thoroughly wipe down each and every book in the library one-by-one was a once-a-year major undertaking that kept a small army of maids hustling for days; whereas merely dusting each and every shelf (and all the furniture) only took a few hours for a single maid, like Poor Prudence, but that would be hours of climbing up and down the ladders in padlocked high-heeled pumps not suitable for domestic toil!  So... The Evil Brie was being nice in that she was setting her an onerous and exhausting but by no means impossible task.  It was infuriating.

Then, smiling their gloating and villainous smiles, all three of her childhood friends (and tormentors) spun on their heels and left the library... with Brie closing and—Click!—locking the door behind them.

Pru heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, then selected a feather duster—briefly fantasized about using it to tickle the feet, armpits, ribs, and breasts of a nude and ball-gagged Brie who was lashed to one of the library reading tables—then stomped to the closest wall, rolled its ladder all the way to the left, carefully (and angrily) climbed the rungs... and began thoroughly and diligently dusting the top shelf and the leather spines of its row of expensive and probably irreplaceable volumes.

People-watching gaggles of school-children and often curiously dressed tourists and castle-enthusiasts being herded by harassed teachers and perky tour guides was every bit as entertaining as Cat hoped it would be... for about an hour... an hour-and-a-half, tops.  Then, boredom set in... and slowly built in intensity.  Cat was not happy.  It was way too soon to allow herself to succumb to ennui.  She had hours of languishing still to go.  It wasn't even lunchtime yet... which made her wonder if she was going to get lunch.  Probably not, she decided, not if Brie has anything to say about it.

The tours came and went in surges, sometimes with as many as ten minutes between distinct groups.  Sometimes less.  At the moment... the last of a mob of tourists was passing from Cat's limited field of view to her left with their chatting voices fading away into the distance.   Then, about a minute of uneventful silence passed.

Suddenly, Cat perked up.  She'd noticed the arrival of the cute little ginger maid from breakfast, the one who had served the tea.  She was wearing her black and white uniform and had stepped into view at the bottom of the Grand Staircase... and she was smiling up at her.  It's as if she knows I'm here! Cat realized.  Still smiling, the maid spoke into a cellphone.  Erin, Cat remembered, her name's Erin... the cheeky little twerp.

Suddenly, the quiet sound of the motor reverberated through the sarcophagus, there was a jolt, and—Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble—the encasement, cage, and Cat rolled back through the drapes and into the, uh, Encasement Chamber?  Cat decided that was as good a name as any for the smallish room directly behind the display alcove.  Anyway, the encasement, cage, and Cat jerked to a halt and immediately—Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk—someone quickly and efficiently unlatched the sarcophagus, swung open its back half—Creeeee!—and rolled Cat and her cage along the floor track and free (so to speak) of the encasement.  Then the someone in question quickly closed—Creeeee!—and latched the encasement—Snick-snick-snick-snick-snick—threw the wall switch—Click!—and—Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble—the now empty encasement passed back through the drapes, into its alcove, and resumed pretending to be a historically interesting example of jousting armor.

The someone then closed the door in front of the cage (and Cat), sealing off the back of the display alcove, then turned and smiled at Cat.  And who exactly was Cat's rescuer? (...or half-rescuer, as Cat remained naked, box-tied, shock-collared, ball-gagged, and clamped in the Willie-cage).

Cat's half-rescuer was none other than Lady Paulina Hardy, Dowager Countess of Wrenbury and Mistress of Amberdale Castle!

Smiling a dazzling smile, Her Ladyship lifted her cellphone to her right ear and spoke.  "Thank you, Erin.  Please tell them the tours may resume."  Lady Paulina was wearing heather-gray ballet slippers, skintight and knee-length exercise pants in Prussian-blue spandex, and a cropped tank-top in the same color that exposed her toned abdomen and sexy bellybutton.  Her long flaxen hair was pulled back and restrained by a white terrycloth/elastic headband.

Obviously Her Ladyship was dressed for exercise... or rather post-exercise.  Her tan skin was glowing (sweating) and a white cotton towel was draped around her neck.

Oh-by-the-way—and although it wasn't exactly breaking news—Lady Paulina was sexy-hot!  She obviously took really good care of herself and had excellent muscle tone, definition, and development, all of which accentuated the very feminine curves of her hourglass figure and shapely boobs.  Add to that her beautiful face and the celebrity of her peerage, and Lady Paulina Hardy would be the perfect model for a sexy-mature-woman photo-shoot.  In addition... pokies.  It was abundantly clear that Her Ladyship was not wearing a sports bra under her tank-top.

"Aren't you a pretty picture," Lady Paulina purred, looking Cat and her cage up and down.  "You have a magnificent figure and excellent muscle tone.  It's easy to understand the success of your modeling career.  I especially like your eyes, Catherine.  Elvish.  Feline.  Very pretty."

Cat blinked several times.  While she'd been assessing Her Ladyship, Her Ladyship had been assessing her!  Cat swallowed behind her ball-gag (and the padded steel of the Willie-cage panel pressed against her lips.  Uh... thank you?

"You're totally helpless," Her Ladyship continued, "inescapably bound, gagged, and trapped in a form-fitting cage, all of which makes you even more beautiful.  Especially since your immediate fate is entirely in my hands."  She smiled at her guest for several long seconds... then tucked her cellphone behind her back and (Cat assumed) into the waistband of her tights/exercise-pants.  She then padded behind the Willie-cage and began releasing the clamps of the horizontal bands that trapped Cat inside, starting at the top and working her way down.

As the back of the cage opened... one hinged, form-fitting, horizontal iron band at a time... Cat reflected that technically the cage had never actually been locked.  Secured, yes, but without any complex mechanisms that required a key to open.  The same went for the sarcophagus/encasement/suit-of-armor itself.  Spring-loaded clamps only.  No key required.  From inside the encasement and/or cage, of course, it didn't make one iota of difference.  Locks or no locks she'd been totally helpless, but it was strange... after a fashion.  Multiple locks—be they dangling padlocks or flush-mounted fully-integrated locks—would have been the shredded coconut atop the fluffy icing of the encasement-cake.

Was it a safety measure?  Clamps instead of locks did make for a quicker and easier release.  Maybe her aristocratic hostess and her minions weren't quite the over-the-top sadistic bondage freaks she'd feared they might be.  It was food for thought... as was the statement that Lady Pauline thought Cat Brody was a really good-looking naked captive.  That was flattering... she supposed.

The final band swung clear and Lady Paulina helped Cat step back and out of the cage.  Actually, Her Ladyship steadied and caught her when her legs buckled.

"You poor thing," Lady Paulina purred, holding Cat close as her leg muscles recovered and Cat gained her footing.  The naked, box-tied, shock-collared, and ball-gagged prisoner had no say in the matter, of course, and was forced to endure the intimate embrace of her sexy, 50-something captor.  It was... terrible?  Okay, it was in no way terrible, but Cat would just as soon be untied and led to the nearest shower or bath.  She needed to get clean.  Also, she was sore all over and she could really use a massage.  Did Amberdale have a trained masseuse on the staff?  Anyone but The Evil Brie would do... as long as they had good hands.

Eventually, Lady Paulina released her embrace/hug/support-effort, but instead of untying Cat, she removed the white towel from around her neck, draped it over Cat's neck, and used it as an impromptu but in no way secure leash to tow her across the Sarcophagus Chamber, through the door, and down the hallway.

Cat heaved a sigh as she padded along, more-or-less at Her Ladyship's side.  Apparently, there was somewhere they needed to be.  As long as it wasn't the inside of another upright steel sarcophagus, with or without a form-fitting interior steel cage, that was just fine as far as Cat was concerned... or not.  What if their destination was down in the dungeons?  That couldn't possibly be good.

The journey continued with Cat the naked, box-tied, shock-collared, and ball-gagged prisoner being led around on a terrycloth tether by a 50-something hot aristocrat in sexy exercise togs.

Cat padded along about half a step behind her hostess/captor.  They were keeping to the family areas, which meant wider hallways, the occasional window, tasteful medieval furnishings, and carpets covering the stone floors.  But oh-by-the-way, there was an unfortunate and highly ironic consequence to not being in the servant corridors, and that consequence was... servants.

On two separate occasions Lady Paulina and her naked, bound, shock-collared, and ball-gagged guest trooped past uniformed maids.  The first was a cute little brunette with bangs and a Lulu-style pageboy haircut.  She might have been French, but as she never spoke Cat couldn't be sure.  Also, she was pushing what was either a hamper or a rubbish collection bin.  The second was a petite blonde with her long, straight, flaxen hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.  She might have been Scandinavian and was very cute.  At each encounter the maids stepped aside with their backs close to the wall, and dropped charming little curtsies.  Her Ladyship smiled and greeted each of them by name (Sophie and Kristine, respectively).  Sophie and Kristine had smiled back.  Obviously, Lady Paulina and her staff had excellent labor relations.

It occurred to Cat that all of Her Ladyship's maids were cute (see also beauteous and comely).  There might be so far unseen employees further behind-the-scenes who were less cute, but Erin and the other maids at breakfast and now Sophie and Kristine were all decidedly cute.  Cat wasn't especially surprised.  If I was rolling in money I'd also hire nothing but cute maids, she mused.  Who wouldn't?

Anyway... eventually... they arrived at what was obviously the Castle gymnasium.  It was situated in the back, well away from the Gatehouse and Grand Entryway, and was obviously a "recent" addition, possibly Victorian or Edwardian.   The floor was carpeted with modern exercise matting, the tall ceiling boasted both regular skylights and track lighting, and one entire wall was an expanse of glass panes that provided a relaxing view of the interior of an attached solarium and its multitude of tropical or semi-tropical plants and what was either a very large bath or a small swimming pool.  All the usual exercise machines were positioned against the other three walls of the gym.  Some were quaint and antiquated and some were quite modern.  All looked fully functional (as far as Cat could tell).  There were also interspersed racks of free-weights and what Cat assumed were rubber resistance bands and/or jump ropes.  The open area in the middle looked eminently adequate for yoga, calisthenics, aerobics, dancing... whatever.

Cat surmised this was where Lady Paulina had worked up her now not-nearly-as-noticeable sweat before rushing off to semi-rescue Cat from her horrible sarcophagus and cage double incarceration.

Her Ladyship led Cat across the gym and towards an open pair of double doors that led into a tiled space that obviously and not surprisingly was a powder room and bath.  There was a row of face-basins, each with a wall-mounted mirror, three commodes in privacy stalls, and a large shower alcove.  There was also a modern, stainless steel therapy tub and a glass door that led into a second, somewhat smaller tiled space with two tiers of tiled benches.  Finally, there was what was clearly a padded massage table; however, it was festooned with dangling leather straps with a padded leather cuff attached to each of the four corners.

Cat's immediate reaction upon seeing the table had been positive—Massage good!—but then she noted the restraints and changed her mind.  Restrained massage BAD!  Maybe.  Probably.

While Cat was taking all of this in, Lady Paulina led her to a row of lockers (yet another feature of the Gym Bath that Cat was noticing.  Her Ladyship pulled the towel/leash from around Cat's neck, tossed it into a nearby laundry hamper, then started stripping off her exercise togs.  That's right, Cat's hot aristocratic hostess removed her slippers... spandex exercise pants... panties... tank-top... and finally... her headband!  Lady Paulina was now as naked as her incredulous prisoner—even more naked as she wasn't box-tied with hemp rope, didn't have a stainless steel shock-collar locked around her neck, or a ball-gag crammed in her mouth!

Gloriously nude and stunningly beautiful (with an all-over tan), the Dowager Countess took a firm grip on Cat's box-tie-bonds and led her into the shower alcove.  And then... the obvious happened.  Cat and Her Ladyship took a shower!  More accurately, Her Ladyship took a shower while at the same time giving Cat a shower.  The water started out cold but quickly became comfortably hot.  Her Ladyship deployed a soapy washcloth and used it to scrub both of their bodies.  Next, shampoo and conditioner was used to clean both heads of hair... Lady Paulina's long blond tresses... and Cat's tousled brown crop.

Cat had no choice but to admit that the wet pampering felt good.  In the first place, she'd needed it, having been rather ripe from the previous evening's events and from languishing in the close confines of the sarcophagus from just after breakfast until very nearly the present.  In the second place, being coddled by a super-hot 50-something aristocrat was... a unique experience... especially while bound, shock-collared, ball-gagged, and helpless.  In the third place... there was no third place.  Cat was feeling emotionally strung out.  Thus far, her visit to Amberdale Castle had been... stressful... as well as stimulating.  Cat was exhausted... in a peculiar, unique, and semi-conflicted fashion.

Anyway, the involuntary (but by no means unwelcome) cleansing and rinsing was over.  Her Ladyship turned off the water and led Cat to the lockers.  Was she going to towel them off?  (Thanks to her box-tie, of course, Cat wasn't going to be toweling anybody off, much less herself.  But no!  Lady Paulina opened a locker, reached inside, and produced a key-ring.  She than stepped behind Cat, unlocked her shock-collar, and returned it and the key-ring to the locker.

Cat was now naked and dripping wet, box-tied, and trying to decide if she should try forcing something past the ball-gag still crammed her mouth.  Thanks?  How dare you?  What about Pru?  She was still trying to decide when Lady Paulina led her to the glass door, opened it, they padded into the smaller tiled space beyond—and were immediately engulfed by an atmospheric wall of stifling heat!  The temperature was in the high nineties (°F), with the humidity hovering at or around 100%!

It's a steam room! Cat realized.  Why didn't I see that before?  Cat and Her Ladyship immediately began transitioning from sopping-wet-from-the-shower to glistening-with-sweat.  It was going to take a while, but Cat knew they'd both get there pretty quickly.

Cat usually basked in dry saunas, as opposed to steam rooms.  She preferred dry cedar to humid tiles.  In any case, like everything else, the choice of venues wasn't up to her.  Cat sighed and resigned herself to her overheated fate.

"Did Sabrina tie that box-tie?" Her Ladyship inquired.

Cat heaved another ball-gagged sigh... then nodded.

"Since yesterday?" Lady Paulina purred.  "You've been tied with your arms like that since yesterday?"

Cat nodded again (and did her best not to glower at the Dowager Countess).

"Unacceptable," Her Ladyship huffed, then sat on one of the lower benches and pulled Cat down onto the warm tiles with her.  Lady Paulina then began untying Cat's box-tie.

Staring across the steam room with wide eyes, Cat sat perfectly still.  She was about to be untied?  That was a good thing, without a doubt!.

"I'm afraid you still need to be punished," Her Ladyship purred, "but I think you've endured Sabrina's box-tie long enough."  She continued untying Cat's bonds, but the prisoner noticed Her Ladyship was following standard rigging protocol and not releasing her completely.  Cat's bonds were being changed, rather than removed, and she was remaining helpless throughout the entire process.

Lady Paula took her time.  Obviously, she was enjoying playing Bondage Barbie with her guest.  After less than five minutes of deft rope manipulation and knot tying... the box-tie was a thing of the past and in its place Cat's wrists were crossed and tied together behind her back and against her spine, with three tight (but not too tight) strands of waist- rope keeping them there.  The box-tie had involved two separate lengths of rope/cord  The first was now on wrist and waist bondage duty, while the second was lashing Cat's crossed ankles together.

Her Ladyship's handiwork wasn't nearly as elaborate as Brie's box-tie, but based on less than a minute of tugging and squirming Cat could tell it was just as inescapable.

Cat's attitude towards all of this was... complicated.  Both Her Ladyship and The Evil Brie were hot, but Lady Paulina was nice.  Cat might have said something, perhaps lobbied for being totally untied, but the ball-gag was still exercising its veto power.

Her revision of Cat's captivity complete, Her Ladyship gave Cat a warm hug... then continued hugging her, meaning embracing her naked body!  In addition, she was running her hands over Cat's flushed and sweat-glistening skin and was sliding strategically placed parts her own sweat-glistening skin against Cat's flushed and sweat-glistening skin!  There was a lot of sweating, glistening, and sliding happening, all of it at Lady Paulina's instigation.

"Mrrrpfh!"  Cat had finally realized she no longer had the excuse for keeping her ball-gag-muffled comments to herself for fear of being shocked by the shock-collar.  It was back in the locker.

Lady Paulina ignored Cat's dismayed, outraged, and/or aroused outburst and continued caressing her body.  They were both definitely flushed and sweating, but Cat had to admit being in the steam room was good... at least for now.  Then, Her Ladyship's left hand slid down the front of Cat's tummy and between her legs!  Skilled and adept manipulation of Cat's lady-bits followed!  The prisoner's aristocratic hostess was having her way with her—"Mrrrm!"—and there was nothing Cat could do about it!

As punishments went, being diddled by Her Ladyship wasn't so bad.  It beat the heck out of anything and everything The Evil Brie had ever done to her.  Lady Paulina brought her to the brink of orgasm... slowly... deftly... then, backed off... leaving Cat overheated and panting through her gag... then did it again!

This went on for some time.

Eventually, either despite Lady Paulina's best efforts to keep her in a state of total frustration, or thanks to her consummate diddling skills, Cat shivered and squirmed in a crashing orgasm!

Cat continued panting through her gag and wiggling against Her Ladyship's body.  She was hot.  She was too hot.  She was now dripping with sweat, flushed, and struggling to stay awake.  Cat decided she'd spent enough time in the steam room being teased by her hostess.  More than enough time.  She needed out.  She needed another shower.  She needed a cold drink.  She needed a nap.  "Mrrrpfh."  Unfortunately, she was unable to beg for any of that.

And then, with Lady Paulina's hands still sliding over her slick body and lightly teasing her tingling lady bits, Cat lost her battle to remain awake, closed her eyes, and passed out.