|by Van ©2012
eventually managed to get back to sleep. There were no
more dreams (none that she could remember, anyway) but her
slumber was less than fully restful.
Morning seemed to arrive in a flash—a slow motion, sexually
frustrated flash. Anyway, Rory opened her eyes to find
Caitlin and Fiona smiling down at her. Both were dressed
in their usual home uniforms of shorts and tank-tops, and Fiona
was carrying an armload of brown leather straps.
"Morning, Bondage Brownie," Caitlin chuckled.
"Rise and shine," Fiona giggled.
Caitlin pulled back the tangled top-sheet and bedspread,
released the strap binding Rory's ankles, then helped her to her
bare feet. Naked, her wrists encased in leather mittens
and secured behind her back in the box-tie position to the wide
leather cuffs strapped around her upper arms, her lips sealed by
a strip of Elastoplast tape, Rory was led by Caitlin out the
bedroom door, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. To
make a personal and embarrassing story short, the Senior Damsel
Scout helped the Bondage Brownie relieve herself, cleaned her up
afterwards, then brushed her hair and arranged it in a
ponytail. She also used a washcloth to wet Rory's face and
a towel to pat it dry, but her tape-gag remained in place.
Rory's morning drink would have to wait.
Rory was dragged, kicking and screaming, back to her
bedroom. Okay, she went quietly, but the fluttering
butterflies in her tummy made a fuss. While they were
gone, Fiona had made the bed and arranged a series of connected
and unconnected straps on the bedspread. All were of the
same distressed, chestnut-brown leather as Rory's mittens and
upper-arm cuffs. Obviously, it was all a matched
set. Working in concert and with practiced efficiency,
Caitlin and Fiona used the straps to further restrain their
already helpless young cousin.
When they finally stepped back, Rory was wearing what amounted
to a body harness. Brown leather straps yoked her
shoulders, pinned her upper-arm cuffs to her sides, and
encircled her torso above and below her breasts, her waist, and
her upper thighs. Short straps attached to the rest of the
harness in the manner of a garter-belt, with thigh cuffs playing
the role of stockings. Rory's butt-crack and pussy
remained free (so to speak), as did her legs and feet.
Caitlin went to the closet and returned with Rory's fuzzy pink
bunny-slippers. "What?" she asked, in answer to Fiona's
raised eyebrow. "I think they're cute on her."
"They are that," Fiona agreed, "but I was looking forward to
scrubbing her feet clean, later."
"We agreed not to mix things up," Caitlin responded.
Both sisters were watching Rory's tape-gagged, confused, and
worried face as she turned her head to follow the
exchange. Scrub my
feet? That can only mean more tickling!
"Breakfast," Caitlin said, nodding at the bedroom door.
"Breakfast," Fiona agreed, "but first..." She pulled a
scarf from her right hip pocket and began folding it into a
narrow bandage. It was a very pretty Nile green in color,
and as Rory soon discovered, the smooth silk made an excellent
blindfold. Caitlin made sure the scarf covered Rory's eyes
while Fiona cinched the scarf behind the captive's head and tied
"If she trips on the stairs, you
have to dig the shallow grave in the next county," Caitlin
"Then I'll just have to make sure she doesn't trip," Fiona giggled as she hooked a
finger through a strap in Rory's harness.
What are they gonna do to me?
Rory wondered as she was led away.
consisted of bacon, hash-browns, eggs to order, and toast—for
the Damsel Scouts. Rory's breakfast took the form of some
kind of warm, bland mush. Still blindfolded, she had no
idea what Fiona was spooning into her mouth.
"What is this crap?" Rory huffed after swallowing the first
spoonful. The "crap" in question was gritty but didn't
require any real chewing. Its flavor was reminiscent of...
"Language, young lady," Fiona chuckled. "You've never had
"No," Rory huffed.
"Well, you have now," Fiona purred.
"They're better with butter," Caitlin added, "and maybe a little
"But yours are plain," Fiona said, "'cause we're torturing your
"No more chat," Caitlin ordered. "Eat your grits, Bondage
Rory sighed and followed the order. Spoonfuls of grits
were alternated with sips of apple juice. Finally, Rory
heard the spoon scraping the bowl.
"Last one," Fiona said, and shoveled the now cold mush into
Rory's mouth. More apple juice was next. "Take a big
gulp, rinse, and swallow," Fiona ordered, held the glass, and
watched as Rory complied.
"Okay," Caitlin said, "pop quiz, Bondage Brownie. When is
it okay to use an effective gag?"
"Uh, when the damsel is under constant observation?" Rory
"Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Correct!" Fiona chuckled.
"Wha—mrrpfh!" Something was being stuffed into Rory's
mouth, something soft and pliant that tasted like... apples? No, that's the apple
juice. It's a ball of foam, she decided, or maybe a sponge... which is
the same thing, I guess. Next, what felt like a
strip of Elastoplast was plastered over her lips and lower
face. Rory heard a rip-rip-ripping
sound, and more tape was applied over her mouth. One
Damsel Scout held her hair while the other took turn after turn
of around her head, pulling the tape taut across her mouth with
each pass. After a dozen layers, the end of the tape was
stretched and smoothed in place. Now, Rory's mouth was
stuffed, her lips sealed, and her lower face mummified. It
was the most stringent, cheek-bulging gag Rory had ever
experienced, and required no testing to confirm that it was
"How does that feel, Ginger-Fox?" Fiona purred. Her lips
were an inch from Rory's left ear. "Nice and tight?
By the way, that last layer is 'Vet-wrap.' It's used to
bind horses' legs... by some people, anyway."
"Mmmf." Rory could feel Fiona's breath caressing her ear.
"We'll take that as a yes," Caitlin whispered. Her lips
were an inch from Rory's right
ear. "Welcome to your hazing, Bondage Brownie," she
"Yes, hazing," Fiona whispered. "Your trials were your
initiation, but this is different. For one thing, you'll
find that a hazing is a lot
"And for another," Caitlin added, "it'll be as much for our entertainment as
"To the dungeon?" Fiona suggested.
"To the dungeon," Caitlin agreed.
Rory was hauled to her feet and hustled away.
trip down to the basement, through the wardrobe, and down the
secret passage happened quickly. The Whelan sisters made
sure Rory didn't trip on the stairs or bang her head as they
ducked through the secret door. Still blinded by the silk
scarf, she was led across the outer dungeon and down one of the
side passages. There'd been no pause to unlock anything,
so she surmised they'd crossed the threshold of a Mysterious
Door, but not the one
with the high-security padlock.
The journey ended with Rory being helped onto a well-padded
leather chair of some kind. Clips snapped through rings in
her harness, additional straps were stretched tight and buckled,
and Rory was in the chair to stay. It had a soft headrest
and was reclined at a comfortable angle. Also, the padding
was designed to accommodate her folded arms. Her left leg
was lifted, placed in a padded trough, then strapped down at the
ankle and above and below the knee. Her right leg received
similar treatment, then the bunny-slippers were pulled from her
feet and the scarf from her eyes.
Rory blinked and looked around. Functionally, her chair
might have been at home in a very plush gynecologist's office,
but for the plethora of straps and lashing points. Her
upper body was pitched back at the traditional angle and her
legs splayed with her knees bent, her lower legs horizontal, and
the soles of her feet more or less vertical. All that was
missing was a pair of stirrups. The chair's frame was
brass-coated steel, as were the clips and buckles of the straps,
and the leather (new restraints included) matched her distressed
chestnut-brown harness and outer mittens.
Rory squirmed and tested her bonds. Other than her head
and feet, she could barely move.
The chamber was stone-walled, like every other chamber Rory had
visited in the Whelan's dungeon, but its furnishings were
Victorian, rather than medieval. A pair of comfortable
wing-chairs were off to one side, separated by a small table
with an elegant lamp, and against the opposite wall was a
cabinet or chest of drawers or armoire or whatever one called
such things. Interior design wasn't Rory's strong
suit. Lighting was from the table lamp, a small chandelier
with dangling glass prisms, and several small, brass-shaded
spotlights directly over Rory and her chair. Deep-red
velvet drapes hid the room's corners and a Turkish rug was
underfoot—under feet not strapped down and dangling in midair,
Caitlin and Fiona were standing to either side of Rory's
restrained, reclined, and naked body. The captive found
the evil smiles curling their lips to be especially disturbing (and
kind of titillating in an Oh-m'god-what're-ya-gonna-do-to-me-next?
sort of way).
"Just to be clear, Ginger-Fox," Caitlin purred, "this is just
girl-fun. Romance has nothing to do with it."
"We love you, of course," Fiona said, "but we're all just
friends here. But that certainly
won't stop us from showing you a good time."
"Future hazing sessions will introduce you to nipple clamps,"
"And the multi-tailed flogger," Fiona added.
Rory turned her tightly gagged head from sister to sister as the
litany of future "fun" continued.
"The riding crop."
"The Wartenburg wheel."
The what? Rory
"The violet wand," Caitlin continued.
Now they're just making stuff
up! Rory decided (or rather, desperately hoped).
Fiona caressed Rory's forehead. "We're scaring her."
"Poor Ginger-Fox," Caitlin sighed. "Let's torture her,
"Mrrfh?" Rory watched as Caitlin and Fiona walked to the
cabinet, opened various doors and drawers, and returned
with—"Nrrrf!"—a complicated steel bracket and two—count 'em—two vibrators!
Caitlin clicked the bracket into sockets under the seat of the
chair, between Rory's splayed legs. Next, she snapped one
of the vibrators, a wand-style model with a doorknob-sized head,
into clamps on a horizontal track. She turned a small
wheel on the side of the frame and the knob eased towards Rory's
pussy, clicking along the track as it approached. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...
Meanwhile, Fiona went up on her toes and clipped the base of the
second, torpedo-shaped vibrator to the end of a light chain
dangling over Rory's crotch. She stepped behind the chair
and turned a small wheel mounted on the wall. Tick, tick, tick, tick,
tick... The chain slowly played out, bringing the
rounded tip of the torpedo ever closer to Rory's pussy.
After slow, careful adjustments, the business ends of both
vibrators just barely
touched Rory's labia, the torpedo at the very top and the knob
somewhat lower. Rory struggled and found she could neither
pull away nor squirm closer to the vibrators, not to any
significant degree, anyway.
Fiona peeled the backing from what appeared to be a small,
circular band-aid with a thin wire attached and plastered it to
the side of Rory's throat. "That's a cardiac monitor," she
explained, smiling at the captive.
Meanwhile, Caitlin stooped and picked up an iPad from somewhere
under Rory's chair and began tapping and stroking the
screen. "Okay... we have a good signal." She held
the screen so Rory and Fiona could see a red dot tracing a
squiggly red line with periodic spikes across a black
background. She then strolled to one of the wing chairs
Fiona was busy inserting tiny, ear-bud microphones with
attached, trailing wires into Rory's ears. When she
finished, the ear-buds were held in place by tiny loops of
padded wire that encircled the base of Rory's ears. She
smiled, leaned down and kissed Rory's forehead, then joined her
sister and settled into the second chair.
"Okay then," Caitlin said, "let the fun begin." She tapped
"M'mmpfh!" Both vibrators had buzzed to life, stimulating
some of Rory's favorite
nerve endings. "Nrrf!" She squirmed, fought her
bonds, and tossed her head against the padded rest. The
chain suspending the buzzing torpedo shook a little, but that
"Full power?" Fiona asked.
Caitlin nodded. "Test successful." She tapped the
screen, again, and the titillating vibrations stopped.
Rory sighed through her nose (there would be no sighing through her
"effective" gag), and stared at the grinning sisters.
"Isn't she cute?" Fiona giggled. "Those wide, blue, frightened eyes...
smooth skin... perky nipples..."
"She reminds me of you, Baby-Fox," Caitlin chuckled, "when mom
finally let me give you your
first hazing, after your eighteenth birthday."
Fiona smiled at her sister. "Really? That's
sweet. Thanks, sis."
"Think nothing of it." Caitlin tapped the screen, again,
and the vibrators resumed buzzing, but at a much lower level.
"Okay, Ginger-Fox," Fiona addressed Rory, "here's the plan of
the day. Your entertainment will be twofold, your
electronic friends, and
a classic work of modern literature."
"It's not on mom's list of one hundred books she's gonna make
you read," Caitlin said, "but maybe you can talk her into extra
"And don't think your little friends will simply buzz against
your pussy while the book drones in your ears," Fiona
continued. "The timing and intensity will be modulated by
the plot. Whenever one of the characters cums, your
friends will do their best to make you cum."
"You'll find it very
effective," Caitlin added. "It's a gift from the friend
mom is visiting this weekend. I have no idea how she
managed to match the vibrators' modulation to the prose so
effectively, but it works, as you're about to find out."
"We call them O-books," Fiona giggled, "and we're accumulating
quite a library. Get it? O-book? It's a play on audio-book and
"She gets it," Caitlin grinned. "Speaking of
which..." Caitlin tapped the screen, again.
Rather generic Classical music began playing in Rory's ears.
"We agreed I'd take the first watch," Fiona said to her sister,
"so if you'd like to go do something else—"
"If you think I'm going to miss watching our Bondage Brownie
enjoy the first chapter," Caitlin interrupted, her eyes on Rory,
Suddenly, over the continuing music, a melodious, female voice
Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure."
recognized the voice. Sigourney
Prince had all his young life known the story of Sleeping
Beauty, cursed to sleep for a hundred years, with her parents,
the King and Queen, and all the Court, after pricking her
finger on a spindle.
"But he did not believe it
until he was inside the castle."
squirmed in her bonds, again. The vibrators were being
modulated by Sigourney's alto (and very sexy) voice, but were still on low
power. Rory had already read The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. In
fact, she'd read all three volumes of the Beauty trilogy and
knew them to be very steamy.
If Caitlin was right about the efficacy of the
vibrator/audio-book coupling (to use a loaded term) she was in
for a long day.
"Even the bodies of the other
Princes caught in the thorns of the rose vines that covered the
walls had not made him believe it. They had come believing
it, true enough, but he must see for himself inside the castle."
only one word summed up her current predicament—her bondage, the
humiliation of the Whelan sisters watching and so obviously relishing her situation,
the buzz of the vibrators, and what together Anne Rice and
Sigourney would be doing to her... all day... And that
in the bedroom of a suburban bungalow
a few blocks from the Lewis & Clark Campus.
Megan Whelan was naked.
She was also spreadeagled on her back on the rumpled sheets of
her hostess' queen-sized bed. Her fingers, thumbs, hands,
and wrists were encased in mittens similar to the sheaths
currently restraining Rory in the dungeon of "Stately Whelan
Manor," as her daughters called the family home. However,
Megan's bonds were nylon and spandex, rather than leather, and
they were attached to the bed posts by taut nylon straps.
Also, rather than brass hardware, Megan's cuffs and mittens were
secured by plastic snap-buckles of varying size. Her
ankles were secured in matching cuffs.
And why was Megan a naked prisoner? The answer was
simplicity itself. It was her turn.
Oh-by-the-way, Megan's ginger hair was a tousled mess with
several strands plastered to her glistening face. Her
smooth, flushed, freckled skin glowed (to use the polite term
for feminine perspiration) and while her bosom no longer heaved,
nor was she panting, her heart rate was still slightly elevated.
The reason for Megan's somewhat moist and disheveled condition
was also simplicity itself. Immediately upon arrival at
her current location and after being stripped and placed in her
current bonds, Megan's hostess had made long, leisurely love to
her writhing body.
Megan had fought her bonds and moaned through the voluntary gag
stuffed in her mouth, her own panties. The "voluntary"
aspect was enforced by the threat of several layers of
self-adhesive compression-bandage if she expelled the sodden
mass. Eventually, after many long minutes of "suffering"
the attentions of her hostess' highly skilled lips, tongue, and
fingers, Megan had cum. And it had been a good one, difficult even
for a tenured Professor of English Literature to adequately
Just then, Dr. Cynthia
Webbel, tenured Professor of Computer Science at Lewis &
Clark University and the hostess in question, returned to the
bedroom. [Author's note: See Rage Against
the Machine and Bad Robot!
for the earlier adventures of Dr. Webbel.]
Cynthia was short, some would say pixie short. Like her captive guest, her
smooth, tan skin glowed and her short brown hair was
tousled. Her compact and very feminine form was clothed in a robe of
black silk. A moisture-beaded pitcher of peach-colored
liquid was in her left hand, and she was sipping from a crystal
flute in her right. "Bellini," she said, raising the flute
in salute, "breakfast of perverts."
Megan spit out her gag. "Speak for yourself," she
chuckled. "I mean the 'pervert' reference, of
course. Who doesn't like a nice, refreshing, après-orgasm Bellini?"
Cynthia set the pitcher on her bedside table, then gently lifted
Megan's head from the pillow, held the half-empty flute to her
lips, and carefully tipped it back.
Megan drained the flute, then licked her lips as Cynthia
refilled the flute and took a sip. "Thank you," Megan
"You're welcome." Cynthia set down the flute, wet her
right finger by running it down the side of the cold pitcher,
then smiled and traced the tan line between Megan's navel and
the top margin of her fiery pubic bush. "You said you were
going to explain this," she said. Megan bit her lower lip
and tugged on her bonds. "I've seen you all freckles and
completely pale," Cynthia continued, "but never with a
Megan smiled. "I believe I mentioned that during my recent
visit to the 'Green and Pleasant Land' I was spending weekends
as a guest of Lady Jane Tydwell?"
Cynthia nodded. "In your e-mails."
"Well..." Megan stretched in her bonds. "Lady Jane
likes to entertain selected guests by having her maids strip
them naked, lock them in chastity belts, and chain them to the
south-facing wall of one of Castle Tydwell's inner courtyards."
"So," Cynthia inquired, "why no tan-lines on your wrists and
ankles?" She kissed Megan's right wrist-cuff for emphasis.
"Chained to the wall by the belt,"
Megan clarified. "That's also how she 'punishes' her
staff. All her maids have healthy tans—" She smiled
at Cynthia. "Like you, Munchkin."
Cynthia smiled. Her all-over tan was from nude sunbathing
on the deck off the bedroom, not from being exposed in a castle
courtyard. "Do you really think it's a good idea to call
me 'Munchkin' when you're
the one tied to the bed?"
"Point taken," Megan chuckled. "Anyway, Lady Jane simply loves sipping tea in one
of her fancy, elegant, linen and lace summer gowns as she
watches a gaggle of naked maids wrestle her captive, naked guest
to the grass, hold her down, and make love to her."
"Naked maids come in 'gaggles'?" Cynthia purred.
"But what about the belt?"
Megan favored her hostess with an exasperated look. "They
had the key. Duh!"
They both laughed, then Cynthia took another sip of Bellini and
helped Megan take another sip, as well. "So," Cynthia
purred, "you earned
all those freckles and
that pink tan line,"
"You could say that," Megan answered as she licked her
lips. "Lady Jane would like to meet you, by the way.
You have an open invitation to visit Tydwell Castle."
"I'll keep it in mind," Cynthia chuckled.
Megan smiled. "I want to thank you again for keeping an
eye on Aurora and my girls while I was away. Your friend
Sally, as well."
"Sally, the engineer who makes all your toys?" Megan
clarified. "You mentioned she was remotely monitoring my
Cynthia frowned. "I did?"
"Don't freak out," Megan chuckled. "I know Sally's shy and
doesn't want to play. Just tell her thanks for me."
Cynthia's smile returned. "I will, and speaking of
toys..." She opened a drawer of the bedside table and
pulled out an egg-shaped object. "Sally's latest," she
purred, holding the glistening white ovoid before Megan's
freckled face, slowly turning it for her inspection.
"Another vibrator?" Megan asked.
Cynthia nodded. "Wireless, with a hundred-hour battery and
full remote control." She reached down and gently eased
the egg between Megan's glistening labia and into her
pussy. "It's state-of-the-art—revolutionary, in fact."
A sly smile curling her coral lips, Megan squirmed and tugged on
her bonds. "What's so revolutionary about—" Her eyes
popped wide. "Hey! It's moving!"
"And changing shape." Cynthia's hand cupped Megan's crotch
as she smiled down at her captive guest's worried face.
"And don't think you can wiggle your hips and push it out," she
purred. "It won't let you."
Megan gasped and a delicate shudder shook her shining
body. "It's v-vibrating and... and... Oh, god! M-make it
Cynthia had stuffed Megan's crumpled, slightly damp panties back
into her mouth. Then, with one hand over Megan's lips, she
opened the bedside table drawer and produced a roll of
tape. Using her teeth, she ripped free a length of the the
white, lattice-like tape, then slapped it over Megan's mouth and
began encircling her head with the roll. When she was
finished, multiple layers of the elastic netting were making
very sure the panties were in to stay.
"This tape is another of Sally's recent inventions," Cynthia
explained as she returned the roll to the drawer. "It's
hypoallergenic, only mildly adhesive to skin and hair, but it
fuses to itself at the molecular level. I've got a case in
the basement. It might be the perfect thing for a
full-body mummification. Can't wait to try it out." She leaned close
and kissed Megan's tape-compressed lips. "Maybe
later. Maybe tonight."
"M'mmpfh!" Megan continued writhing and struggling.
Cynthia stood, cinched the belt of her robe, and strolled
towards the bedroom door. "Anyhoo... Sally's smart-egg has a
specialty: teasing its victim to the edge of orgasm, then
backing off and starting over, and over, and over. Total
sexual frustration." She paused in the doorway and
smiled. "Yes, there's an app for that."
Megan tugged on her bonds and shivered. The "smart-egg"
was pushing all the
right buttons, playing her like a pussy piano. "Nrrrf!"
Cynthia turned and left, but her voice echoed back from the
hallway. "I'm going to cook us some brunch! Enjoy!"
"Nrrrf!" Megan continued struggling and the smart egg
continued doing its thing. It isn't fair! Megan thought. She has all these great, hi-tech
toys, and all I have is four generations worth of elaborately
equipped dungeons! It isn't fair!
eased open the door of Rory's bedroom, peered inside, and
Rory was asleep on her bed. She was still naked, but her
bonds had been reduced to "sleeping mode," mittens and upper-arm
cuffs in the box-tie configuration. Her gag had been
removed, her legs and ankles weren't bound, and she wasn't
tethered to the bed in any way. She also wasn't alone.
Fiona, also naked (not counting her steel chastity belt), was
sprawled against Rory's side with one arm draped over her young
Caitlin watched for a few seconds. Like a pair of marmalade kittens,
she mused. She started to pull the door closed, then
noticed that Fiona's eyes were open and focused on her.
Caitlin tiptoed to the bed. "The poor thing's tuckered
out," she whispered.
"Out like the proverbial light," Fiona whispered back, "the
"Wimp? That's hardly fair."
"She didn't even make it to the 'Hall of Punishments'," Fiona
responded, then grinned. "I love that chapter. What
they do to Princess Lizetta and the others is really hot."
"It is," Caitlin agreed, "but as I recall, you also passed out before
meeting Princess Lizetta."
"I'm only human."
Rory squirmed, her legs twitched, and she began mumbling in her
asleep. Her eyes were moving under their closed lids.
"What did she say?" Caitlin inquired.
"I believe it was 'Yes, my Prince'," Fiona answered.
"She's dreaming she's Beauty," Caitlin whispered. It was
an observation, not a question.
Fiona nodded. "Wet
dreaming she's Beauty."
Caitlin smiled. "Our Ginger-Fox seems to have a lot of wet. I lost
count of how many times she came before she passed out and we
had to carry her upstairs."
Both sisters smiled at Rory, watching her squirm on the tangled
"I guess it runs in
the family," Fiona winked. "Get it? Runs down the
"Sorry." Caitlin shook her head. "Your sense of
humor is too subtle for the likes of me."
Rory turned her head and a delicate shudder shook her captive
body. "Ohhh, my Prince!"
This time Caitlin could clearly understand the mumbled
outburst. Rory's eyes were still closed and she was still
lost in her dream.
"So," Fiona whispered, "tomorrow we pick up where we left off?"
Caitlin shook her head. "No... too much of a good thing
for poor Ginger-Fox." She smiled at her sister. "You
up for a Shibari
"No doubt something tight, elaborate, and very uncomfortable," Fiona
muttered. "Rory will love it."
Caitlin's smile widened. "I mean with you as the instructor and me as the practice dummy."
Fiona blinked in surprise, then smiled. "Sis, that's so
sweet. And Rory will get a kick out of seeing you naked
and bound from hair to toes. Can I use the thin stuff?"
"Make it tight, elaborate, and inspirational," Caitlin
responded. "We should demonstrate the full power and
majesty of the Japanese art to our wet little Bondage Brownie
with her very first lesson."
"May I tie up the girls?"
Caitlin sighed, then lightly cupped her tank-top and bra covered
breasts, the girls in question, and gave them a gentle
shake. "Yes, you may tie up 'the girls,' as long as you
don't get carried away. And thanks for asking before you had me bound and
gagged and couldn't object."
"You're welcome," Fiona grinned, then smiled at Rory.
"Wait 'til Wow-Fox finds out that even her perky pair are big enough for bondage."
Caitlin smiled down at the dreaming, shivering Rory. "So
much to learn..." She shifted her smile to her
sister. "And we get to be her teachers."
"My... Prince," Rory whispered.
"Wow!" the Whelan sisters whispered in unison—then stifled
simultaneous giggling fits.
Finally, her composure restored, Caitlin turned and started
towards the door. "I better get out of here and start
cooking dinner before we wake her up."
Fiona blew her sister a kiss as the door closed, then smiled at
Rory. "Wait 'til you're ready for your Damsel Scout initiation,
Ginger-Fox," she whispered, leaned close and gently kissed
Rory's tousled head, then settled her head on her pillow and
closed her eyes.
Rory squirmed and tugged on her bonds, an inarticulate moan
escaped her lips, and her wonderful dream continued.