by Van ©2012
		Chapter 10

Rory was standing near Megan's bed.  She was naked.  Her pink robe was neatly folded and resting atop her bunny-slippers on the floor near the bedroom door.  Her back was to Megan and she was nervously staring at the chest of drawers across the room.

Megan had removed her jacket, but was otherwise still completely clothed.  She dropped a doubled loop of brown, microfiber rope over Rory's head and shoulders and snugged it tight around her arms and upper body, below her breasts.

Holding her arms folded behind her back, as instructed, Rory tried to control her breathing and ignore her racing pulse as twin strand after twin strand followed, tightening around her upper body.  Eventually, a band of six neat strands pinned her upper arms to her torso above her breasts and six more below.

Next, Megan hitched the lower rope strands on the left side, between Rory's arm and torso, stretched the still-doubled rope up and beside Rory's left breast, across her shoulder and behind her neck, down the right side in front, under the lower ropes on the right, and tightened another hitch.

From the beginning of the entire process, Rory felt the rope being repeatedly pulled through itself and overhand knots being tied, just below her shoulder blades and above her folded arms.  Whatever Megan was doing behind her back, it was complicated.

"Your heart is hammering," Megan noted.

"I'm sorry," Rory whispered.

"It's okay to be nervous, sweetie-pie," Megan answered.  She threaded the rope under the strands yoking Rory's shoulders, at the nape of her neck, then pulled down, tightening the entire harness.  She then began wrapping the remaining rope around the vertical strands against Rory's spine.  The final knots were tied high on Rory's back.  "This is a Japanese technique often referred to as a 'box-tie' in English," Megan explained.

"Japanese?" Rory asked.

"Don't worry," Megan chuckled.  "I'm not going to launch into a formal lecture on Nawa Shibari.  That will come after your initiation, one of many lessons."

Rory swallowed.  "Okay."  Rope was tightening around her forearms, loop after loop, and was being hitched to the nexus of her upper body bonds.

"A virtue of the box-tie is the position of the arms," Megan explained.  "The bondage is completely inescapable when properly executed, and yet, you can lie on your back for hours in relative comfort."

Hours?  Rory swallowed, again.  Cool it! she chided herself.  I'll have to be tied up 'til morning, at least, if I'm to pass the trial.

Megan tied a final knot, then took a step to the side.  "Give it a try."

"Huh?"

Megan smiled.  "Struggle for me, Rory.  Try and get free."

Rory twisted her arms, but they were tightly pinned to her sides and she could hardy move them at all.  Her wrists weren't actually tied, but the ropes trapped her arms in the fold, locked her elbows, and rendered her hands utterly useless.  Her fingers fluttered as she twisted her hands and groped for a knot or a hitch or some element of the "box-tie" she could attack, but nothing was within reach.

Megan stood and smiled and watched Rory struggle.  After about a minute, she lifted the remaining coils of rope from the bed and patted the taut bedspread.  "It's time for sleepy girls to go to bed."

Rory swallowed, again.  We're sharing the bed! she realized, then sat, lifted her legs onto the bed, and flopped down onto her side.  She watched as Megan bound her ankles together, cinched the ropes between her legs, and tied a double square-knot.  Next, her knees were tied together using the same technique.  Then, Megan pulled back the covers, helped Rory squirm into a comfortable position with her head cushioned on a pillow, then pulled the covers over her young captive's bound body.

"There," Megan said, then walked to her chest of drawers and opened a drawer.  She returned to the bed with a pair of nude-colored nylon stockings, sat on the bed, and tied an overhand knot near the center of one stocking.  She then wadded the second stocking into a ball and stuffed it down the first.  "Don't be concerned," she purred.  "This is an old pair."  She tied another knot, creating a spongy ball of nylon with two long tails.

"Glad to hear it," Rory muttered.

Megan smiled as she held the nylon ball before Rory's lips.

Rory sighed, opened her mouth, and accepted the wad.

Megan cinched the free ends of the nylon at the nape of Rory's neck, pulled her long, ginger hair free and to the side, and tied a tight square-knot.  "Now," she said as she combed her fingers through Rory's hair and straightened her bangs, "I'm going to take a shower and get ready for bed, and I want you to stay right here."  She shook a teasing finger in Rory's gagged face.  "If I come back and find you hopping down the hall, you'll get a spanking."  She stood and moved to the walk-in closet.

Bound, gagged, naked, and helpless, Rory lay on the bed and watched Megan unbutton her blouse, shrug it off, and drop it in the hamper.  Next, she removed her skirt and dropped it beside the matching jacket.  Rory assumed the suit would eventually find its way to the dry cleaners.  Now clad in bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and heels, Megan continued to undress.

Rory had never worn a garter belt and stockings, only pantyhose.  Garter-belts were old fashioned—but she had to admit the look was sexy, very sexy, especially on Professor Megan Whelan.

Megan's lingerie was sheer and black.  She removed the bra and dropped it in the hamper, then sat in a straight chair and removed her heels.

Rory noted Megan's highly freckled shoulders, arms, and breasts.  She sighed through her gag and wiggled in her bonds.  Aunt Megan had straight, ginger hair, much like Rory's own, but their complexions were different.  Rory freckled when she sunbathed, a little, but mainly she burned.  She was a "clear," while Aunt Megan was a "freckle-farm."  She watched Megan remove her stockings and garter belt, then stand and peel off her panties.

Wow.  Apparently, Aunt Megan had venues available and found the time for topless sunbathing.  Wow.  It was almost as if she was wearing a pair of peach-pink panties.  Only her neatly trimmed, fiery pubic bush spoiled the illusion.  A narrow triangle of skin as clear and freckle-free as Rory's own was on display.  Megan turned and headed for the master bath and Rory revised her assessment.  Thong, not panties.  Megan's dimpled butt-cheeks were as freckled as her back and thighs.

The bathroom door closed.  Seconds later, Rory heard the shower start running.  Wow.  Aunt Megan is in amazing shape.  I hope I look like that when I'm in my fifties.  Megan's physique was... inspirational.

Rory squirmed under the covers, then closed her eyes.  She was helpless.  She had ceded complete control of her body to her Aunt Megan.  Rory's heart rate had calmed, more-or-less, and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to be getting tired of beating their wings.  That said, she was still nervous (and aroused... just a tad).  A blush colored her cheeks as she wiggled in her inescapable bonds.  She had zero erotic interest in Aunt Megan. Shudder, Yuk!  But there was no escaping (pun intended) the, uh, squishiness of her current situation.  Wow!

Rory heard the shower stop.  Seconds passed... then she heard the quiet whine of a hair dryer.  Rory tested her bonds, yet again, straightening her legs and twisting her shoulders.  It was as much a stretch as an "escape attempt."

Finally, the bathroom door opened and Aunt Megan—a naked and now clean Aunt Megan—strolled to the chest of drawers.

Rory watched her open a drawer, produce a pair of teal-green, satin panties, and pull them on.  Next came a matching baby-doll nightie with spaghetti straps.  It was donned, as well.  Megan then turned out all the lights but the bedside lamp, strolled to the bed, piled the remaining pillows against the headboard, then slid under the covers.  With her head and shoulders nestled against the pillows and an arm around her bound and gagged young captive, she smiled down at Rory.  "You're trembling like a leaf," she noted.

Rory blushed.  "Mrrfh."

"Excuse me?" Megan chuckled.

Rory rolled her eyes (but was still blushing).

Megan plucked the stocking ball-gag from Rory's mouth and pulled it down.  The nylon was stretchy enough to make this possible, but the "strap" was still tight enough for the gag to hug Rory's throat like a loose choker.  "You're trembling," Megan reiterated.

"Sorry," Rory sighed.  She was still trembling, a little.  Megan's skin was warm and smooth, and her still slightly damp hair smelled very good.  Rory made a note to check which brands of hair-care products were in the master bath.

Megan smiled, leaned close, and kissed Rory's forehead.  "Your mother and I used to cuddle like this when we were girls," she said.

"My mother?" Rory whispered.  "Tied up?"

"Sometimes," Megan answered.  "Sometimes your mother, sometimes me, and sometimes both of us."

"Wow," Rory sighed, her eyes wide in wonder.

"We just cuddled," Megan continued.  "There's nothing for you to be concerned about."

"Oh," Rory sighed, then her eyes popped even wider.  "Oh!  I-I-I didn't think you were gonna, uh, do anything.  Fiona said that wasn't allowed.  Uh, not that we talked about funny stuff a lot.  And not that you would, anyway, and..."  Her cheeks were burning.  "Oh god," she whispered.

Megan chuckled and kissed Rory's forehead, again.  "You precious little scamp," she purred and hugged Rory's shoulders.  "I was just trying to lighten the mood.  Bondage Brownie initiations are always completely innocent, and you have my solemn pledge I won't violate the rules.  I'll keep you safe.  Also, we need to talk."

"Uh... okay."

"You're an adult, Rory," Megan continued.  "You can do anything you want with your life and I'll support you.  That said, a college education is very important."

"Oh, I want to go to college, Aunt Megan," Rory responded, "I just can't afford it, not right now."

"I can help you," Megan said, then pressed her right index finger against Rory's lips when she opened her mouth to voice what was almost certainly going to be an objection.  "I can help you find a job," Megan continued, "I can help you find scholarship support, and I can help you prepare, academically."  She took her finger away.

"Oh," Rory whispered.  "Uh, help me prepare academically?  I've got good grades and SAT's."

Megan smiled.  "There are many lists of 100 books all freshman should read before starting college.  I have my own list.  And, by happy coincidence, all 100 are in my library."

"I like reading," Rory muttered.

"I'll be very surprised if you haven't already read many of my choices," Megan chuckled.  "There's something else I'd like you to do."

"Yes?"

"I want you to start keeping a journal," Megan continued, "and I'd like you to write the occasional book report as you read.  Not for every title, but I want to help you improve your writing."

"Uh, okay."

Megan kissed Rory's forehead, a third time.  "Good girl.  Your journal will be private, for your eyes only."

Rory nodded.

"Now..."  Megan yawned.  "I had a long flight.  We'll talk some more in the morning.  If you need to use the bathroom during the night, please feel free to wake me up.  I won't mind.  Okay?"

"Uh, okay," Rory answered (ignoring the blush that was once again warming her cheeks).

Megan reached out a toned, freckled arm, turned off the bedside light, and the bedroom was plunged into darkness.

Megan's skin and the satin of her nightie were warm and smooth against Rory's naked body, and the ropes remained snug and tight.  Her heart had finally calmed, completely, and the butterflies had already gone to sleep.  She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax.  Wow!

Megan lifted the covers and rolled out of bed.  She tried her best not to wake her young guest, but failed.

Rory lifted her head, blinked, and watched Megan pad into the bathroom.  The only light was the early dawn glow from the windows.  She squirmed in her bonds and yawned.  The balled nylons gag was still gently hugging her throat and Aunt Megan's ropes were as inescapable as ever.  She yawned, again, then shook her head in a vain attempt to free the tangle of ginger strands half-covering her face.  Mission not accomplished, she snuggled her head against the pillow and closed her eyes.

Rory must have gone back to sleep—for she woke with a start as the covers were jerked from her body.  "Wha—M'rrpfh!"  The nylon ball-gag was back in her mouth.  She was still naked and tied up, of course, and Caitlin and Fiona were smiling down at her.  They were both fully clothed in shorts and tank-tops, as well as bras and (Rory assumed) panties.  The sisters' expressions evoked a pair of cats surveying a helpless mouse, and once again Rory's heart was hammering and the butterflies in her stomach were all aflutter.

"Congratulations, Ginger-Fox," Fiona said.  "You've passed your trials and are now a full-fledged Bondage Brownie."

"A novice Bondage Brownie," Caitlin added.

The sisters sat on the bed and pulled Rory onto their laps.  Caitlin began combing her fingers through Rory's hair while Fiona tested the tightness of her rope bonds.

"So," Fiona asked her sister, "want to carry her downstairs and lock her in the Puppy Cage in the Front Dungeon?"

Caitlin was straightening Rory's bangs, and smiling down at her gagged, worried face.  "Hmm... no, we'd have to haul her through the kitchen.  Mom is cooking one of her fancy frittatas," she explained to Rory, then shifted her smiling gaze to Fiona.  "She might take pity on poor, innocent little Ginger-Fox and make us tie her to a chair for breakfast.  We should take her up to the attic.  That trunk with the air-holes and high-security padlock is still up there someplace, right?"

Fiona nodded.  "Or, we could take her out the front door and into my shop.  I've got that coffin-size pine box in the corner, remember?  It's a pain to screw down the lid, but it fits so perfectly in that brick-lined pit under the slab in the back garden."

"I remember it well," Caitlin chuckled.  "Or... we could do what Mom told us to do so we don't find ourselves buried alive in the garden."

"My box would be a tight fit for two," Fiona giggled, then rolled Rory onto her side and began untying the box-tie.

"Once you wiggle free," Caitlin purred, "take a leak, get dressed, and come on down to the kitchen."

"Mom's frittatas are delicious," Fiona added.

Caitlin and Fiona eased Rory off their laps, stood, and headed for the bedroom door.

Rory's arms and upper body were now tangled in loose ropes and her ankle and knee bonds were still fully intact, but she managed to reach her gag and pull it from her mouth and down around her throat.  "You guys are so funny!" she yelled, "a real pair of comedians!"

The Whelan sisters were already out the door, but the giggles echoing back from the hallway suggested they'd heard her comment.

Rory untied and removed the remaining ropes, then padded into the master bath and took a tinkle.  She splashed water on her face, then returned to the bedroom and made the bed.  Finally, she neatly coiled her former bonds and deposited them on foot of the bed with her former gag on top.

A goofy smile curling her lips, she padded down the hallway to her bedroom to get dressed.  I'm a Bondage Brownie, she thought.  Wow!

Dressed in sneakers, shorts, tank-top (and undies) and with her hair combed back in a tight, elastic-enforced ponytail, Rory bounded down the stairs, across the living room, and into the kitchen.

Fiona and Caitlin were busy setting the breakfast nook.  Aunt Megan, dressed like her daughters and Rory, was pulling a baking dish from the oven.

"There's my Bondage Brownie!" Aunt Megan gushed, then nodded at the baking dish.  "Provolone and sausage frittata."

"Mom likes to channel Giada De Laurentiis," Caitlin explained.

"Although she lacks the boobs," Fiona giggled.

Rory's blank expression signaled non-comprehension.

"The Food Channel?" Fiona asked.

"The Food Network," Caitlin corrected.

"Uh, don't watch it," Rory explained.

"Enough," Megan chuckled.  "Everybody sit."

The frittata was delicious, as Fiona predicted.  The naughty girls who had missed dinner the night before ate with gusto.  Soon, the plates were empty and they were sipping the last of their coffee.

"Okay," Megan said, smiling at her family (Rory very much included), "Caitlin has called her boss and gotten permission to take the day off."  She smiled at her oldest daughter.  "Actually, from what I overheard, it was more a reminder that she already had permission to play hooky.  I assume you cleared your calender so you could spend the day torturing your sister and our little Bondage Brownie."

"Mother, you wound me," Caitlin responded.  A delicate blush colored her smiling face.

"Hah!" Fiona barked, then met her mother's gaze.  Her smile faded and she also blushed.

"Now," Megan continued, "I've had time to think and here's what's going to happen."  She smiled at Fiona.  "You know the belt with the hammered finish and fancy etching?"

"Mother!" Fiona complained.

"Fetch," Megan ordered.

Fiona heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, then climbed to her feet and headed for the basement.

"It's her size," Caitlin explained to the confused Rory.

"And as for you, young lady," Megan continued.  She was addressing Caitlin.  "I'd like you to spend the day teaching the basic ties to Rory."  She smiled and patted Rory's hand.  "Don't worry, dear.  Fiona will be the practice dummy."

"Uh, okay," Rory muttered.

"Don't worry, kid," Caitlin chuckled.  "It'll be fun... for us."  She nodded towards the sink.  "C'mon.  Mom cooked so we clean up."

Rory nodded and started stacking the plates.

The dishwasher was loaded and the stove and table wiped down by the time Fiona reentered the kitchen.

"Wow!" Rory gasped.

Fiona was carrying what was unmistakably a steel chastity belt.  It was somewhat medieval in appearance and the "fancy etching" Megan had mentioned took the form of Celtic knot-work.  It was a thong design, with a narrow, butt-cheek cleaving chain in the back and a front pubic shield pierced by a vertical, sawtooth-lined slit.  All of the belt's edges were smooth and well rounded, and closure was by means of a flush mounted lock where the two halves of the waist band closed and met the top of the shield.

"I think it will fit her," Fiona said, smiling at Rory.

Rory's eyes popped wide.  "What?"

Megan and Caitlin smiled.

"Nice try," Megan said.  "You know who it's for."

Fiona heaved another theatrical sigh, set the belt on the kitchen island, then unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts and let them drop.  She then hooked her thumbs in her panties, dragged them down and stepped free, then gazed at her mother with a heartbreaking expression that perfectly captured Profound Sorrow and Contrite Repentance.

Megan smiled.  "Continue," she ordered.

"And stop being such a Drama Queen," Caitlin added.  She started to say more, but the cool stare from her mother changed her mind.

Meanwhile, Fiona had removed her tank-top and bra and her entire costume was neatly folded and stacked on one end of the breakfast nook's bench.  Her hands were atop her head and her expression still very sad.

"Caitlin, you may do the honors," Megan said, "and make sure Rory gets a good look."  She smiled at Rory.  "You need to know how that thing works."

"Uh, okay."  Why? Rory wondered, then stepped close and watched as Caitlin picked up the belt, unlocked it, fit it around her sister's waist, and then through her crotch.  The belt was a perfect fit, following every curve and contour of Fiona's anatomy and just dimpling her peach-pink flesh.  The medieval monstrosity might as well have been custom made to Fiona's exact measurements, and Rory suspected that was a distinct possibility.

Caitlin turned the key in the lock, then handed it to her mother.  Megan pulled a thin chain from her shorts pocket (jewlery-grade, not suitable for restraint service), threaded the key, and secured the chain's tiny clasp.  Smiling broadly, she lifted the chain and key over Rory's head and let it drop.

Rory freed her ponytail, then gazed down at the key.  It was ornate and engraved with the same Celtic knots decorating Fiona's belt.  She shifted her gaze to Megan.  "Uh..."

Megan chuckled, then kissed Rory's forehead.  "I'm sentencing naughty girl Fiona to a full week of abstinence."

"MO-ther!" Fiona complained.

"She's to wear her pretty belt day and night," Megan continued, lecturing Rory.  "When she has to relieve herself, she's to ask nicely, you're to tie her hands, and she's to let you.  Then and only then are you to unlock her belt and let her do her business.  Then, you clean her up and lock it back on.  Understand?"

"Uh, yeah."  Rory gazed at the key, the belt, Fiona's tragic pout, Caitlin's highly amused smirk, and then her Aunt Megan.  "I'm in charge?"

"You're in charge," Megan confirmed.

"MO-ther," Fiona reiterated.  "A whole week?  Five whole days?"

"A week is seven days, naughty girl," Megan noted.  "Keep it up and I'll make it a month."  She focused on Caitlin.  "And you're lucky I don't send you to work tomorrow wearing a belt of your own."

"Uh, the county building has metal detectors in the lobby," Caitlin noted.

"And we have that leather model that laces in the back," Megan responded.  "I could reinforce the waist band with duct tape and sign it with a waterproof marker."

"Yeah," Caitlin admitted, "that would work."

"Wow!" Rory whispered under breath.

The Whelans laughed, even Fiona (although Fifi's mirth was decidedly less enthusiastic).

"Okay, I'm taking the naughty girl's clothes upstairs," Megan said, picking up the clothes in question.  "Then, I have some calls to make and e-mails to send, and I might go to the campus this afternoon.  We'll see."  She headed for the door to the living room.  "You girls play nice," she added, and was gone.

"This is so unfair," Fiona groused.

Caitlin leaned close and kissed Rory's cheek.  "Let this be a lesson to you, Ginger-Fox," she said.  "Momma-Fox runs a taut ship."

"Actually, she's a pussy cat," Fiona huffed.

"Yeah," Caitlin chuckled, "and you're a mischievous mouse."  She nodded towards the basement stairs.  "To the dungeon!"

Her hands still atop her head, Fiona turned and padded towards the basement door.  "So unfair," she sighed.  Caitlin was right behind—behind Fiona's steel-cleaved behind.

Rory slipped the key and chain under her tank-top.  "Wow!" she sighed, and followed.