by Van © 2024
		Chapter 7

Suddenly—"MRRRPFH!"—Cat's eyes popped open and she screamed through her ball-gag!  Somebody—a very inconsiderate somebody—had emptied an entire bucket of icy cold water over her gagged head and her flushed, sweaty, and rope-bound body!

Needless to say, Cat was awake (as in no longer unconscious).  She looked around and realized she was still in the tiled steam room off the Castle Amberdale's Gymnasium Powder Room off the Castle Amberdale Gymnasium... in Castle Amberdale!

And who was the tactless somebody who had just committed the dastardly deed of dashing her with frigid water?  It was Lady Paulina, of course.  Cat squirmed on the tiled bench, tugged on the ropes lashing her crossed wrists against the small of her back and linked to the tight strands encircling her waist, kicked her legs, twisted her crossed and bound ankles, and glowered at the smiling, naked, flushed, sweaty aristocrat... watched with helpless apprehension as Her Ladyship refilled the bucket... then sighed with gagged relief as Her Ladyship upended the bucket over her own head!

Actually (begrudgingly), it occurred to Cat that not turning into a limp, unconscious, rope-bound and ball-gagged boiled lobster lying on the hard tiles of Her Ladyship's steam room was a good thing; however, being drenched with an entire bucket of cold water without warning??  How rude!  How chilly!  (How refreshing.)

Dripping wet (with sweat and water) and still smiling, Her Ladyship untied Cat's ankles, looped the end of the rope around the pouting prisoner's neck, and tied a non-compacting knot.  She then used the resulting leash to drag (lead) Cat from the steam room.

The cold normality of the Gymnasium Powder Room atmosphere engulfed Cat's overheated body as they padded to the shower alcove.  The subsequent shower (with soap, shampoo, and a great deal of gratuitous hands-on scrubbing and intermittent rinsing) quickly restored her body to thermal regularity (more or less) and did much to improve her spirits... although on general principles Cat continued staring wickedly sharp and proverbial daggers at her hostess... even though the dripping wet, gloriously nude, and gorgeous aristocrat was the one who had done all the pampering ablution.

Lady Paulina turned off the water for the final time and used fluffy towels to complete the post shower process by drying both their bodies... and hair... then using a towel to give herself a terrycloth turban.  Cat's damp, tousled mop was allowed to continue to air dry.  Her Ladyship then led Cat towards the massage table... the one with all the ominous dangling leather straps and the leather cuffs at the four corners that Cat had noticed earlier, prior to being steamed in the Steam Room.

"Mrrrf!" Cat complained (whined) and continued to pout, but "allowed" herself to be dragged to the padded table.  Oh, the drama!

Being an expert handler and in tiptop physical condition (as well as naked and smokin' hot), Her Ladyship had little difficulty getting her naked, bound, and gagged guest up onto the table and flat on her back and bound wrists.  She then secured Cat's ankles in the cuffs at the lower corners... loosely secured a sufficient number of straps to facilitate continued manipulation of her petulant and continuously complaining and struggling prisoner.  Next, she untied Cat's wrist and waist ropes and secured her wrists in the table's upper cuffs, releasing and manhandling one struggling and resisting arm at a time.  Her Naked Ladyship then went back over all the straps, cinching and tightening them until they ever-so-slightly dimpled Cat's skin.  Finally, she tightened the cuffs, tugging on their narrow outer straps until the leather creaked in protest.

The end result was a naked and ball-gagged Cat spreadeagled on her back with her elbows bent a little past 90°, her ankles about 24" apart, and tight horizontal straps pinning her to the padding above her breasts, below her breasts, across her waist, her mid thighs, and her shins.  She had a little wiggle room, which she took advantage of to test her new predicament, all the while glowering at Her Ladyship—"Mrrrmpfh!—and complaining.
 
Smiling happily (wickedly), Lady Paulina stood beside the table, gazed down at her helpless, naked, and ball-gagged guest, and watched the show.

Cat continued squirming, twisting, tugging on the cuffs, and staring in disapproval at her naked (not counting the hair-turban) hostess.  Then, Pru's eyes popped wide and she yelped through her gag.  "Mrrrf!"  Lady Paulina had cupped her breasts and gently squeezed—"Mrrrf!"—and now she was running her hands over Cat's torso and thighs!  And she hadn't asked permission!  "Nrrrm!"  It was horrible... in a quivering, shivering, titillating sort of way.

Her Ladyship continued taking tactile liberties with Cat's helpless person for several seconds... which turned into a full minute.  Then... she stopped.

Cat blinked and stared up into the smiling blue eyes and beautiful face of her captor.  For some reason, Cat was finding it difficult to think of her captor/handler/hostess as The Evil Lady Paulina.  The gorgeous aristocrat was not The Evil Brie.  Her Ladyship was way too nice to be Evil.  Wicked?  Maybe, but "The Wicked Lady Paulina" didn't seem entirely appropriate and just didn't have the same ring as "The "Evil Brie."  Go figure.

"Well..." Her Ladyship purred, then leaned close and planted a kiss on Cat's ball-gagged mouth.  "I'll have someone bring you a nice cold drink," she promised.  "While you wait, why don't you enjoy a nice nap?  Then... we'll see about your punishment for the rest of the day."  Then, she spun on her bare heels and sauntered from the Gym Powder Room, or whatever its actual designation.  Cat tugged on her restraints and watched as Lady Paulina swung her hips in a graceful manner... showcasing her remarkably firm and sexy butt.  It complemented her firm boobs and the rest of her athletic body.  I hope I look that good in twenty years, Pru thought.

"Mrrrf?" Cat complained as Her Ladyship made her final exit, sashaying off to look for a cold drink for herself no doubt... as well as something to wear.

Cat heaved a ball-gagged sigh and stared up at the ceiling... which was supremely uninteresting.  Her slightly damp crop was still a tousled mess.  She could tell.  Cat added hair grooming to the growing list of things she'd have to do something about as soon as she wasn't strapped and cuffed to a padded massage table.

So... a nap... like Her Ladyship had suggested?  Cat heaved another sigh and closed her eyes.  Why not?

~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Poor Prudence the Involuntary Maid (and her feather duster) had been up and down the library's ladders more times than she cared to count, and her poor feet were not appreciative!

Granted, Pru's sleek, sexy, black, high-heeled pumps (sporting ankle-straps with cute little heavy-duty padlocks that rendered them impossible to remove without the key or the aggressive use of hand tools) fit perfectly; but clearly they'd been designed to put on an erotic show, not to be comfortable while performing domestic tasks.  Fashion-wise they perfectly complemented Pru's black and white (and sexy) maid's uniform, but Pru would much rather be toiling in "sensible shoes," like Amberdale Castle's real maids, meaning the cuties who tolerated maid costumes for paychecks (and probably the love of Lady Paulina), not as victims of deserved but despicable discipline.

Anyway, Pru had been climbing up and down the rungs, zigzagging back and forth across across the walls, and dusting the upper shelves for hours (meaning a little less than two), but despite setting herself a diligent pace only the top half of the library had achieved dust free status—not that the place had been anything other than marginally dusty to begin with.  Castle Amberdale's staff did not neglect their duties, and for decades the central heating system had included efficient HEPA filters that all by themselves dealt with a reasonable proportion of any drifting dust.

Pru knew all sorts of "interesting" facts like that about the castle's infrastructure.  Hannah was ultimately in charge of such matters, Pru corresponded and chatted on the phone with her big sister on a regular basis, and she was proud of her (when Hannah wasn't being a villainous dweeb).  Anyway, it had been obvious from the get go that Pru's Punitive Dusting Duty was the worst kind of superfluous make-work.  The library hadn't needed dusting.

Pru was not happy.  In point of fact, she was tired, a little sweaty, and as, because part of her punishment had been the denial of normal underwear, her breasts, ribs, thighs, tummy, etc., had been constantly brushing against the fabric of her dress and it had been (and was)... irritating.  Not harmful, of course, but unpleasant.  Also, repeatedly climbing up and down the ladders wasn't doing her any favors with respect to the steel chastity-belt she was involuntarily wearing in lieu of normal panties.  The insidious device's rounded edges had been gliding against her bikini-zone and up and down her butt-crack!  It was more irritation.

Suddenly, the library door swung open and The Honorable Lizzie appeared, in all her infuriating, youthful, smiling, beauteous, and flaxen-haired perkiness!  Remarkably, the smiling blonde had accomplished the door opening feat while burdened with a silver tray laden with a complete tea service.  She placed the tray on the nearest library table, looked up at Pru, and beamed.  The vivacious brat was wearing comfy-looking sneakers and a short-sleeve, scoop-neck, summer-weight mini-dress in a charming pattern of quaint little multicolored blossoms on an indigo background.  Pru thought it was very pretty.

"Tea break!" Lizzie chirped as she strolled back to close the library door, then returned to the table and settled into a chair.  "I'll be Mother," she giggled as she poured tea into a pair of delicate teacups (in Wedgwood's popular and attractive Butterfly Bloom pattern).

Scowling in Righteous Disapproval, Pru climbed down her current ladder, tossed her feather duster onto the cleaning cart, then stomped to the table and flopped into the chair next to Lizzie (and the tea)—then winced, having momentarily forgotten that her knickers were made of hard, unforgiving steel.

Lizzie smiled even wider, produced a key ring, then leaned close to Pru's pouting visage.  "Here, let me get that for you," she purred as she carefully spun Pru's shock-collar 180°, selected and inserted a key, unlocked the wretched, despicable accessory, opened and pulled it free, placed it on the library table, and smiled sweetly.  "Now we can talk."

"Thank you," Pru responded (and meant it).  She'd never developed the courage to actually test the voice-stealing device by trying to speak, but that was just fine as far as she was concerned.  Pru nodded at the key-ring.  "They gave you a set of keys?  Since when?"

"Hardly," Lizzie giggled as she added milk to both cups.  (She already knew that Pru's dairy augmentation preference was the same as her own.)  "I 'borrowed' one of the spare sets from the 'special' key cabinet in Hannah's office while she was chatting on the phone and staring out the window."
 
"If you get caught with that thing," Pru warned, nodding at the key-ring, "your mother will probably give you to Brie for a month, carte blanche.  You know how paranoid she is about castle security, and Hannah is just as bad."

Smiling her cute little dimpled smile, Lizzie shrugged.  "Brie has really been looking forward to your visit," she said (abruptly changing the subject), then took a preliminary sip of tea.  "Being Brie, she pretended otherwise, but nobody was fooled."

"Brilliant," Pru huffed as she sipped her tea.  She wasn't referring to the topic of Brie, of course, but the tea, which was glorious, most welcome, and much needed refreshment.  "Aren't you afraid Brie will pop in here to check on me and gloat and catch you being nice... with unauthorized keys?"

"Not likely," Lizzie said with another shrug.  "She's supervising the arrival of the first tour group from a new company, making sure nothing goes wrong.  She's too busy to gloat, and will be for at least the next hour."

"Brie is never too busy to gloat," Pru huffed as she continued sipping her tea (but she couldn't help but smile).  Being the runt of the Hardy litter and the curious and eager junior member of the Castle Rapscallions, Lizzie had always been the group's mascot.  Everybody went easy on her and spoiled her rotten, meaning they weren't excessively cruel to the adorable little kitten when it was her turn to be tied up and tortured.

Lizzie frowned as she selected a biscuit from the plate of assorted yummy tidbits on the tray.  "I think it's very mean the way Mother is letting Brie channel her unbridled sadistic tendencies on you and your pretty friend," she stated as she gave the biscuit (a salted caramel shortbread), a delicate nibble.  "The least she could do is wait a day or two 'til you've settled in, then unleash Sis and Brie and watch as they amp up the fiendishness.  We all know Brie has a tendency to get carried away when it's her turn on top.  It's not nice and you shouldn't put up with it."

Pru smiled and raised an eyebrow.  "You're suggesting I defy your mother?"  She then selected a biscuit of her own (a Madeleine) and took a bite.  "Disobedience is her excuse for punishing me in the first place, remember?"

Lizzie shrugged, yet again.  (The Honorable Lizzie Hardy had a very cute shrug, Pru reflected.  She always had.)  "Disobey Brie," Lizzie clarified, waving what was left of her biscuit for emphasis.  "Then complain to Mother that she's a monster.  She very well might reverse the situation and let you dish out discipline to the monster in question."  Her grin blossomed into a warm smile.  "Mother is just as glad you've come home for a visit as the rest of us."

"She has a funny way of showing it," Pru pouted, then sipped her tea.  Then... her smile returned.  She'd had a brilliant idea.

Apparently Pru did a poor job of hiding her sudden brainstorm because Lizzie popped the last of her biscuit into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, took a sip of tea, then leaned forward in her chair.  "What?" she demanded.

"What what?" Pru responded, then sipped her tea and continued smiling.

"You've had one of your infamous devious thoughts," Lizzie accused.  "Admit it."

"Oh, I do," Pru purred, then selected another biscuit (a Chocolate Hobnob), took a bite, and smiled at Lizzie as she chewed.

"Well... out with it!" Lizzie commanded.

Pru sipped her tea.  "What happens when one of the Castle Games devolves, topsy-turvy, into total shambolic chaos?"

Lizzie grinned.  "Mother hates it... or pretends she hates it.  We all know she enjoys a good ol' rollicking hubbub as much as the next wicked tyrant... as long as it doesn't scandalize the tourists or damage the breakables."

Pru smiled.  "Exactly.  Finish your tea."

Lizzie followed Pru-the-maid's easy-to-follow order by selecting another biscuit (a Caramel Digestive).  Obviously, the Junior Honorable Brat was intrigued.  (Pru was counting on it.)

The last of the tea was slurped and biscuits gobbled.

Then, while Lizzie was busy stacking the dirty cups and saucers on the tray, Pru made a show of straightening up the cleaning cart and making sure everything was in its proper place (while surreptitiously slipping the shock-collar and a pair of folded tack-cloths into the pocket of her apron).  Finally, all preparations for departure complete and with Pru in her padlocked high heels and domestic uniform and Lizzie in her sneakers and pretty dress and carrying the tray, they exited the library.

The shelves were only half dusted, but as the library hadn't needed dusting in the first place, it didn't really matter.  The point was, whenever Brie finally decided to get off her lazy ass, stop wasting time on trivialities (like her actual job), and returned to the scene of her heinous crime... everything would be in perfect order except for one teeny tiny little niggling detail: Pru would be missing!  The involuntary maid and disobedient guest would be AWOL from her lawfully assigned disciplinary domestic duty!

"What's the plan?" Lizzie inquired in a conspiratorial whisper as they strolled down the castle corridor.  "We're gonna find and rescue your girlfriend, right?"

"Of course," Pru responded, "but first..."  She pointed to a small table tucked against the wall between two arrow-slit windows.  "Ditch the tray."

Lizzie blinked.  "But... that would be rude.  I'd be leaving a mess for one of the maids to clean up."

Pru smiled.  Lady Paulina had done a laudable job of inculcating the Honorable Brat with the virtues of noblesse oblige.  "We can't very well take it back to the kitchens," Pru explained.  "We don't want anybody seeing us sneaking around together, much less the maids and cooks.  Anyway, the staff won't mind."

"I guess," Lizzie conceded, then placed the tray on the table as suggested (ordered).  "What now?"

Pru silently eased open one of the many doors that led to the Servant's Maze.  "Now, we disappear."  She smiled and made a graceful gesture.  "In there, and be quick about it!"

Lizzie giggled and scampered through the doorway.

Pru looked both ways down the hallway to confirm their exit would be unobserved, then followed Lizzie across the threshold, quietly easing the door closed behind them.

The conspirators continued down the darker, narrower, and much less maid-infested corridors of the maze, making turn after turn and passing closed heavy wooden door after closed heavy wooden door.  It had been a while, but Pru still knew her way around the service labyrinth (mostly).

Finally, Lizzie had had enough uncertainty.  "Where are we going?" she demanded.

"Nowhere," Pru responded as she opened one of the doors.  "We're here."

Lizzie blinked in surprise.  "The rope storeroom in the Southwest Tower?" she inquired.  "Why the rope storeroom in the..."  She blinked her big blue eyes as the proverbial light dawned, then tried to take a step back—but Pru was too quick!  "Hey!"

Pru had grabbed the startled youngster, dragged her across the threshold, and closed the door behind them!

Countless coils of conditioned hemp rope of various gauges hung from wooden racks on the left and right walls, while against the wall opposite the door stood a tall combination cabinet and set of shelves holding reels of thin cord and who-knows-what.  The place wasn't exactly spacious, but there was sufficient elbowroom for a wrestling match, and one ensued.

"Prudie!" Lizzie complained as Pru grabbed a coil of thin rope (or thick cord) from one of the racks, deftly shook it loose with one hand, pulled the blonde's arms behind her back, crossed her wrists, and quickly tied them together!  The Junior Honorable Brat resisted, but Pru seemed to have the upper hand.  Oddly, it was as if Lizzie was only putting on a show of resistance while actually allowing Pru to capture her... but that couldn't possibly be right, could it?  Anyway...

"I brought you tea!" Lizzie objected (playing the guilt card) as Pru held her close and unzipped her dress!  "Don't rip it!" the still squirming blonde whined.  "I just bought this thing in London!  It's new!"

"I have no intention of damaging your pretty new frock," Pru purred as she continued removing the dress in question.  "I need it."  She continued the process of disrobing her captive.  "Stop struggling."

"You're a horrid pig," Lizzie huffed.  "That's what you are!  A horrid pig!"

Soon—all too soon (and despite Lizzie's still inexplicably ineffective resistance)—Lizzie's dress and bra were a tangle around her waist and bound wrists and she was naked from the waist up!

Pru used another coil of rope/cord to bind Lizzie's upper arms against her mid-torso, under her bobbing and swaying breasts and just above her elbows.  "I see you have an altogether tan," Pru noted.  "Do you sunbathe up on the Main Keep with Gracie and your mother?"

"None of your business," Lizzie huffed.  "That's too tight!" she complained.

Pru was cinching the torso-elbow-bonds between the pouting blonde's arms and body, making sure none of the bindings could slip or shift, no matter how vigorously Lizzie wiggled and squirmed.  The captive's elbows were pinned against her body, but nowhere near touching.  With her wrists crossed and bound they couldn't be made to touch without causing her significant discomfort.  Pru didn't try.  She was being a competent but considerate captor.

Lizzie had to admit Pru was doing things right, and in the process was more-or-less reenacting the U-89-binds-Gwendoline-out-on-the-lawn scene at the start of John Willie's classic The Escape Artiste.  It was impressive; however, it didn't prevent her from whining and trying for sympathy points.  "Ow!  Prudie!  Too tight!"

"Hush," Pru purred as she untied The Honorable Captive's wrists, freed Lizzie's arms, hands, and fingers from the dress and loose bra, then crossed and tied them again, exactly as before with the tightly cinched key knot just as unreachable and with its short free ends safely tucked into the main binding on the side away from her prisoner's fluttering, groping, useless fingers.

"Ohhh!" Lizzie complained as Pru tugged the dress past her hips.  The garment slithered down her legs to the stone floor and pooled at her sneaker-clad feet.  "Horrid pig!" she reiterated as Pru "forced" her to step free.  "Nooo!" she wailed as next Pru turned her nefarious attention to her panties, tugged them past her hips and made sure they slithered down her legs to the floor as well.  Now, except for her thin rope bondage and sneakers, Lizzie was completely naked!

"So, I'm a 'horrid pig,' am I?" Pru-The-Evil-Maid chuckled as she reached into her apron pocket and produced the two neatly folded tack-cloths she'd filched from the cleaning cart back in the library.

Lizzie swallowed nervously and watched with keen interest as Pru shook out the cloths and folded them into what became a pair of long, narrow, thin, almost gauze-like bandages.  The tack-cloths were designed to be periodically and repeatedly folded back on themselves as they were used, sequentially exposing fresh surfaces to the dust, so there was sufficient cloth for Pru's purposes.  The fabric was soft, a little stretchy, and held a good knot... which she demonstrated by tying the two long cloths together end-to-end, making one very long bandage with a round knot in the center.

Pru then stooped, picked up Lizzie's panties, and stepped behind her anxious prisoner.  Her intent was obvious.

"Can we talk about this?" Lizzie whined.

"Not for long," Pru purred, then balled up Lizzie's panties and crammed them into their owner's sputtering mouth, seated the knot in the combined cloths over the silky wad, then proceeded to take multiple tight passes around Lizzie's head and over her mouth.  The arrangement started out as a cleave-gag... but ended as an over-the-mouth-gag that tightly covered the unhappy blonde's entire lower face from just under her cute little nose to the point of her chin.  The doubled tack-cloth was just long enough to allow Pru to cinch everything very tight and to tie an equally tight square-knot at the nape of Lizzie's neck, under her flaxen and now slightly tousled hair.

Whether by design or coincidence, Lizzie's gag carried forward the John Willie The Escape Artist vibe Pru had begun with her rope bondage... which was not all that surprising, perhaps, as all the denizens of Amberdale Castle were big fans of Maestro Willie (aka John Coutts).

Lizzie commenced her Courtesy Struggle, the obligatory exercise in which the Damsel/Bindee (Lizzie) confirms the efficacy of the Villainess/Rigger's (Pru's) handiwork.  About a minute of ineffectual squirming, twisting, and muffled complaining ensued.  "Mrrrmpfh!  Mrrrrrm!  Mmmmf!"  Lizzie failed, in that she failed miserably to escape, and her defeat was Pru's triumph.  As a side effect, Lizzie's tresses were now even more tousled.

Pru had enjoyed the show, as evidenced by her gloating smile.  She found the way Lizzie's bristols flopped, swayed, and oscillated as she struggled to be especially entertaining.

Next, Pru began removing her uniform.  That's right!  Pru was stripping herself!

Lizzie watched (idly twisting her bound wrists, just for something to do) as Pru's costume was reduced to her black high-heeled pumps with ankle-straps and padlock accessories, dark stockings, garters, and the plain steel chastity belt still locked around her waist, through her crotch, and shielding her pussy from unauthorized stimulation.

The rest of her uniform removed and set aside, Pru executed a full-body stretch, smiling at her pouting prisoner as she arched her back and reached for the storeroom ceiling.  She then donned Lizzie's pretty new dress!

"Nrrrm!" Lizzie complained, but was ignored.

Pru and Lizzie were roughly the same height, but Pru's figure was slightly more lithe and willowy, as might be expected in a runway model—not that Liz Hardy wasn't a sensationally fit and curvaceous hottie in her own right, of course.  Anyway, the frock was a little loose on Pru's frame (especially across her boobs, but Lizzie had to admit she looked fabulous.  The padlocked high-heels were something more of a risque fashion statement than was warranted for casual wear about the castle, but black goes with almost anything so they were fine.

Lizzie continued watching (sullenly) as Pru neatly folded her former attire (the maid's uniform), and her bra (meaning Lizzie's bra, which Pru hadn't bothered donning as she knew it wouldn't fit very well), then stuffed the resulting bundle into one of the cabinets.  She then knelt at Lizzie's feet and unlaced and removed the youngster's sneakers.  They went into the cabinet as well, and now Lizzie was barefoot and bare-everything-else, not counting her rope-bonds and cloth-OTM/cleave-gag (with panties stuffing).

Unfortunately, Pru wasn't quite finished enhancing Lizzie's new ensemble.  The naked, bound, and gagged Honorable Brat's blue eyes popped wide as her captor produced the steel shock-collar that had formerly graced Pru's own neck.  She then located the appropriate key on the key-ring Lizzie had stolen—which wasn't The Evil Brie's key-ring by the way, as Pru had already noted the absence of the distinctively shaped key that would have unlocked her chastity belt—then unlocked the collar, fit it around Lizzie's neck, and secured the lock!

A second Courtesy Struggle commenced, but the only thing Lizzie added to her ineffective escape routine was to shake and twist her head and bob her chin.  Like Pru before her, Lizzie decided to omit verbally testing the power status of the collar.  She was just as reticent to be painfully shocked for no purpose as Pru had been... which Pru thought was both sensible and understandable.

Lizzie soon tired of trying to escape (meaning entertaining Pru by not escaping), heaved a carefully silent sigh, batted her pretty blue eyes, and somehow managed to execute a gagged pout of awesome cuteness.

Pru smiled (and savored the thrill quivering through her steel-clad lady bits).  Lizzie had always made for an adorable damsel, and she still had it.  "Poor thing," she cooed, leaned close, and planted a kiss on Lizzie's forehead.

Lizzie glared in response... then resumed pouting.

"All right then," Pru chuckled, "brilliant."  She then selected another coil of hemp rope/cord, took a firm but in no way punishing grip on a generous handhold of Lizzie's hair near the end and used it as a leash to drag (meaning gently lead) Lizzie towards the door, across the threshold, and out into the corridor.

"Let's find you someplace you won't be disturbed so you can relax," Pru suggested.  "Then, I'll go find your mother and we can discuss the situation."  Her smile broadened as she gazed at her prisoner.  "And now, I have something to bargain with."

Naked, bound, gagged, and shock-collared, Lizzie knew the 'something' in question was herself, of course.  She padded along beside her childhood friend, glamorous fashion model, actress, and nefarious kidnapper, then heaved another carefully silent gagged sigh.

As the old saying goes, Lizzie thought, no good deed goes unpunished.  I was nice enough to feel sorry for Prudie and bring her a nice spot of tea... and this is the thanks I get?  A thrill of... she decided to go with "horror," rippled through her fully exposed lady bits.  It's just like old times! she silently sighed.  Lizzie had always known that Hannah's little sister was a bit of a trickster.  It was one of her best qualities.  Anyway, it was good to have Pru back in the castle... even if it was only for a visit and she was being an ungrateful tosser.