by Van ©2012
		Chapter 12

Rory 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 a square-knot.

"If she trips on the stairs, you have to dig the shallow grave in the next county," Caitlin chuckled.

"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.

Breakfast 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... corn?

"Language, young lady," Fiona chuckled.  "You've never had grits?"

"No," Rory huffed.

"Well, you have now," Fiona purred.

"They're better with butter," Caitlin added, "and maybe a little cheese."

"But yours are plain," Fiona said, "'cause we're torturing your taste buds."

"No more chat," Caitlin ordered.  "Eat your grits, Bondage Brownie."

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 answered.

"Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!  Correct!" Fiona chuckled.  "Open wide."

"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 "effective."

"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 continued.

"Hrrmf?"

"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 more adult."

"And for another," Caitlin added, "it'll be as much for our entertainment as yours."

"To the dungeon?" Fiona suggested.

"To the dungeon," Caitlin agreed.

Rory was hauled to her feet and hustled away.

The 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, that is.

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," Caitlin said.

"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 wondered.

"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, instead."

"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 and sat.

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 the iPad—

"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 was it.

"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 credit."

"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 e-book."

"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, "you're sadly mistaken."

Suddenly, over the continuing music, a melodious, female voice spoke.

"The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, by Anne Rice writing as A. N. Roquelaure."

Rory recognized the voice.  Sigourney Weaver!

"The 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."

Rory 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."

To Rory, 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 word was...

Wow!

Meanwhile...
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 describe.

Just then, Dr. Cynthia Webbel, tenured Professor of Computer Science at Lewis & Clark University and the hostess in question, returned to the bedroom—to her 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 sighed.

"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 bikini-line."

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.

"Giggling gaggles," Megan confirmed.

"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?"

"Sally, the engineer who makes all your toys?" Megan clarified.  "You mentioned she was remotely monitoring my security system."

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 stop!  Please—Mmmf!"

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!

Caitlin eased open the door of Rory's bedroom, peered inside, and smiled.

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 cousin's shoulders.

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 little wimp."

"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 sheets.

"I guess it runs in the family," Fiona winked.  "Get it?  Runs down the leg?"

"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 lesson?"

"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.

◄

Chapter 11

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