by Van ©2022
		Chapter 8

The next hour passed with minimal fidgeting on Scotti and Iris' part.  Amy's nipple-clamps, mini-carabiners, and taut coyote-brown cord rig saw to that.  And whatever squirming Scotti might have attempted to relieve the discomfort of her chair-bondage was done very gingerly (no pun intended).  As for Iris, she lay perfectly still in her stringent four-point-spread/spreadeagle with her eyes half-closed.  She was either meditating, half-surreptitiously gazing at Scotti's naked, chair-bound, tape gagged (with clean-panty-stuffing), and nipple-clamped form... or both.  Between the flickering candlelight and Iris' tape-gag (with unknown-stuffing), Scotti was having a difficult time reading her fellow prisoner's expression.

And speaking of Scotti's nipples... as the minutes ticked by, Scotti's resentment of the cavalier way Amy had treated them was building towards full-blown outrage, and the damn clamps were becoming increasingly unwelcome visitors.  The horrid things were beginning to actually hurt... or something.  Scotti and her nipples were in full agreement that the damn things needed to go away!

However, every now and then—and on a totally unpredictable basis—Iris flinched in her bonds, providing Scotti's only clue that another Panty-Teaser Event was happening.  She couldn't hear the vibrator's buzz, no matter what intensity setting the control box program was executing.  Iris' lavender-pink Hello Kitty bikini-bottom looked especially sinister in the the dim candlelight... and Iris' pale body might be starting to shine a little... meaning she might be trying to sweat... but aside from the periodic wincing, there were no overt signs of Iris' intermittent/ongoing low-grade frustration-torture.

Was Amy being a real bitch?  Yes, Scotti decided, Amy was, indeed, being a real bitch.  She couldn't wait to be released from the chair so she could plot Amy's comeuppance with the bitch's little sister.

Click!  Suddenly, the cottage door opened and the bitch in question reappeared.  "Miss me?" she quipped, then closed the door behind her.  Click!

Oh please, Scotti thought, rolling her green eyes.  'Miss me'?  Amy's snappy repartee was pathetic.  Unfortunately, her rigging skills more than made up for the deficiency.

There's something you should know about nipple-clamps, Gingerella," Amy said as she strolled towards Scotti and the chair.  "They pinch a little going on, but—"

"MRRRFH!"  Scotti crossed her green eyes and shivered in distress!  Amy had casually reached out and—released Scotti's left nipple-clamp!  And it hurt!  It hurt like crazy... in a stimulating, rushing, thrilling sort of way.  Scotti squirmed in her bonds and continued shivering.  The aftermath of the removal was a warm burn, and just when she was beginning to deal with it—"MRRRRRM!"—it happened again!  Amy had removed the right nipple-clamp!  Scotti continued squirming and fidgeting, and both of her nipples were now red, inflamed, raw, burning, and throbbing.  It was... not nice.

Okay, truth be told, the clamp removal ordeal hadn't been all that bad... in retrospect... but it had been totally and intentionally unexpected.  The least you could have done is warn me! Scotti internally fumed as she glowered at Amy, her green eyes angry above her Microfoam gag.

"If looks could kill..." Amy chuckled as she strolled to the bed, leaned close, and removed her little sister's clover-clamps... first the right... and then the left.

Iris' reaction was impressively stoic, but by her gagged expression she was now just as angry and resentful as Scotti.  Inexplicably, the elder Dupont sibling did not burst into flame under the prisoners' twin laser beam glares.  Go figure.

Amy strolled back to Scotti and her chair and began untying the coffee-stained, conditioned, cotton clothesline binding the fuming redhead to the chair.

"You should know that the clover-clamps I used on you are unusually weak," Amy explained to Scotti.  "The springs were replaced by Archer Metals."  She nodded at Iris, who was still stringently spreadeagled on the bed and manifestly displeased with her sister.  "Her clamps were medium strength, of course.  But then, we've been playing with such things since we were snot-nosed teenagers, so she's used to it.  And don't worry, your cute little peachy-pink nips will be back to their normal, adorable selves by morning.  I promise."

Scotti stared into infinity as her rope bonds melted away.  Her nipples were still throbbing... or maybe burning.  But at least they didn't hurt, not like at the instant of release.

Unexpectedly, Amy stopped untying ropes with at least half of Scotti's chair-bonds still intact—and now she was kneeling behind the chair and something hard and pokey was slicing through the duct-tape and underlying shrink-wrap flipperizing/mummifying her right hand.  The sheath was peeled away, exposing Scotti's sweaty right extremity to the night air... and now Amy was slicing through her left flipper/hand-mummy.  The left sheath disappeared... and Scotti's fingers and hands were free.

Scotti's arms were still pinned to her sides and the chairback, and her legs were still tied together, but Amy had snipped through the cords binding her big toes with the bandage-scissors, the same tool Scotti surmised she'd used to deflipperize her hands.

Then, Amy tossed the scissors on the bed, turned, and strolled towards the cottage door.  "Well, I hope you two enjoyed the experiment." she purred.  "Your research is progressing nicely, Gingerella, don't ya think?  See you at breakfast."  And with that, she opened the door—Click!—and made her exit—Click!—closing the door behind her.

Scotti made a mental note to find a hardware store with a nice solid throw-bolt she could install.  It would have to match the general decor, of course, but something was needed to keep the rope-happy riff-raff out of The Cottage (or at least slow them down).  She began trying to free herself of the remaining ropes and discovered the loops cinching her residual bonds were already loose and increasingly so the more she struggled.  It quickly became obvious what was going on.  Amy had untied just enough of her rigging to allow Scotti to deal with the rest... eventually... once she figured things out.  Bitch!

It took a while, something like five minutes of trial and error, groping for almost unreachable knots, and semi-contortion... but finally Scotti wiggled free of the last strand, stood, and was out of the chair.  She stretched her still naked body, reaching for the exposed rafters... then turned and padded into the bathroom, ignoring her gardening buddy Iris, who was still mostly naked, stringently spreadeagled, effectively panty-gagged, and being Panty-Teaser-tortured on the bed.

Scotti examined her poor, flushed, sensitive nipples in the mirror for several seconds, briefly admired the 3D bas-relief Microfoam-gag-profile of her lips, then peeled the tape away, expelled the wadded panties from her mouth, and washed her face... followed by enjoying a drink of cool, clear water.  She scowled at her reflection in the mirror for several seconds... then refilled the water glass, stomped (padded) back into the main cottage, and stomped (padded) to the bed.  She carefully set the water glass down on the bedside table, then climbed onto the bed (still frowning), and slowly, carefully peeled away Iris' Microfoam tape-gag.  She then plucked the slimy cloth stuffing from Iris' mouth.  As she'd suspected, the wad turned out to be a pair of black panties.  Whether they'd gone into Iris' mouth dirty or clean remained a mystery, but they came out damp and slimy.  Yuk!  Scotti tossed the panties away, then focused her frown on the captive still lashed to the bed in a four-point spread.

Iris licked her lips, worked her jaw, and blinked her big brown eyes, the very image of an innocent damsel.

Scotti knew with high confidence that Iris was at least partially responsible for this evening's experiment, but there was no point in beating a dead horse... or Iris.  As for Amy, that was another matter.  Scotti rolled her green eyes, reached for the water glass with her left hand, then cradled the back of Iris' head with her right hand so she could drink.  They managed the hydration without any spillage... and Scotti returned the empty glass to the table.

Iris smiled.  "Thank yo-uuu!"  A shiver shook her spreadeagled body and she bit her lower lip.  Being significantly closer to Iris' Hello-Kitty-bottom than she'd been when lashed to the chair, Scotti found she could now hear the rhythmic buzz of the Panty-Teaser pulsing between Iris' splayed legs... barely.  A ghost of a smile curled her lips, but she said nothing.  The buzzing ended, as did Iris' shivering.

"Uh..." Iris said quietly, "do me a favor and—"

"No," Scotti interrupted.  "We need to discuss how we're going to retaliate against your bitch-of-a-sister for her bitchiness."

"Scotti!" Iris whined.

"The sooner we get it done, the sooner you get untied, the sooner you can say goodnight to Hello Kitty, and the sooner we can get some sleep."

Iris heaved a sigh of truly tragic proportions, then batted her big brown eyes.  "Okay."

"Good," Scotti grinned.  "Now, tell me.  Is there anything really good lurking in the Special Catalog Storerooms we can use to humiliate and torture your big sister?  Something that I haven't seen yet?"

For the next several minutes The Great Nipple-Clamp Retaliation was discussed, but only in the vaguest of terms.  Scotti repeated her demand for an inventory of the Special Catalog items in the Storage Building storerooms (except #1 and #4) and however many other storerooms anywhere in the compound had contents that might give them ideas.  Iris refused on the grounds that it would ruin the surprises of future Research Experiments.  Scotti threatened to tickle her feet, but Iris wouldn't budge, which was easy as her four-point spreadeagle really was quite stringent.  The discussion continued.

Both agreed that using the big bandsaw in the furniture workshop to stage a classic damsel-in-distress-in-Ye-Olde-Sawmill scenario starring Amy was out of the question.  It would be messy, requiring a great deal of cleanup, and more importantly, Sybil/Mother would strongly disapprove of offing her firstborn and it would almost certainly mean the end of dessert for all time.

Every now and then there was a brief pause so the Panty-Teaser could do its randomly timed and modulated thing—Iris would flinch, shiver, bite her lower lip, and pout—Scotti would pointedly ignore what was happening inside her friend's Hello Kitty bikini bottom—then the nonproductive discussion would continue.  (Scotti couldn't help but smile during the torture interludes, of course.)

Finally, Scotti heaved a huge yawn, and the occupants of the bed agreed it would be prudent for Gingerella to untie Wednesday before she fell asleep and condemned her helpless friend to a full night of stringently spreadeagled Panty-Teaser-Torment.  Scotti did, indeed, untie Iris.  Then, Iris removed her Hello-Kitty bottom and the Panty-Teaser in question, and tossed them across the bedroom, but not before Scotti got a chance to notice the elongated pocket sewn in the thin fabric of the garment's lining at the appropriate Panty-Teaser position.  Scotti surmised the villainous villainess bitch Amy had put a lot of effort into her perfidious panty preparations, although the seamstress might have been Iris.

Anyway, Iris turned off all functions on the Panty-Teaser's control board (to conserve the batteries) while Scotti padded around The Cottage and carefully blew out all the candles.  Then, they both settled into bed (back-to-back), snuggled under the covers until they were comfortable (but separated by an airgap), wished each other goodnight, and drifted off to sleep.

No progress was made with respect to Operation Best Served Cold the next day either.  Scotti and Iris rose at the usual time (discretely noting that they were both free of ropemarks and/or bruises) and took turns in the shower.  Scotti got dressed while Iris made the bed, then they both coiled the jumble of coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline littering the floor and returned it all to the black nylon duffel-bag—returned the Panty-Teaser, its control box, and the Hello Kitty bikini-bottom torture device to the pink nylon gym bag—then departed The Cottage for breakfast.

Much to Scotti's disappointment, Iris' return to The Main House was not a Walk of Shame, despite her scandalous nudity.  Scotti accompanied her naked friend all the way to her bedroom, where she could finally get dressed, but the nude DuPont was totally casual and nonchalant the entire trip.  Bummer.  Anyway, next stop was the kitchen and breakfast, where they both wished Sybil/Mother a hearty good morning and (by prior cunning plan) treated Amy as if she was a actual normal person.

By now it was obvious to Scotti that whatever outrageous and markedly evil things one of the DuPont sisters perpetrated on Scotti and/or the other DuPont sister was not considered a fit topic for meal conversation.  What happened in The Cottage or the Storage Building stayed in The Cottage or the Storage Building.  Could it simmer in the back of Scotti's brain while everybody made nice?  Of course.  But truth be told, Scotti wasn't feeling all that vindictive.  It was The Game.  She still had to plot her revenge, of course, but nobody likes a grumpy gamer.

During the Plan-of-the-Day ritual it was established that most of the afternoon was officially cordoned off for Skinny Dipping in The Pond... Scotti included!

"Your gift arrived in yesterday's mail so we can finally do this," Iris explained.

"Gift?" Scotti inquired.  "What gift?"

"I'll show you later," Iris explained with a smile, then sipped her coffee.

Scotti remained concerned.  The arrival and presentation of an unexpected present sounded suspiciously like Gaming Activity.  "I've already got my new moccasins for my feet," she noted.  "What 'gift' do I need so I can go skinny-dipping?"

Amy smiled.  "Moccasins for your feet," she quoted, "as opposed to moccasins for your... what?"

"Shut up," Scotti huffed, then turned back to Iris.  "Well?"

"I told you," Iris smiled, "later."

"You'll like it, dear," Sybil said.  "I promise."

And with that, cleanup commenced.  It was time to start the day... with Scotti none the wiser with respect to the looming present presentation.  She was none too happy, but hiding it well.  Given The Game, the context of "context", and the coy way the DuPonts were treating the whole gift thing, it was worrying... a little.  At least it gave Scotti something to fret about other than her impending first ever nude, naked, and clothing-free skinny-dipping experience.

An hour after Scotti returned to The Cottage following lunch there was a knock at the door.  Knock-knock! 

Imagine, Scotti thought as she strolled across The Cottage, a DuPont actually knocking on the door!  As opposed to barging in like she owns the place... which she does... if she's Sibyl.  That was unfair and she knew it.  Except for The Game, the DuPonts had always respected her privacy.  Anyway, Scotti lifted the latch—Click!—opened the door, and—"Oh!"  Scotti found herself confronted by the DuPont sisters, both naked (except for moccasins on their feet), and with colorful towels rolled up and tucked under one arm.  Actually, Iris was burdened by two colorful rolled towels.  Also, Amy's long, black hair was pulled back in a ponytail enforced by a green scarf or bandana.

"Why aren't you dressed?" Amy demanded, looking up and down with disapproval at Scotti's shirt, jeans, and moccasins.

"Huh?" Scotti responded.

"Strip here," Iris suggested, "as opposed to down at the pond.  That way you don't have to deal with bugs crawling into your clothes while you're in the water."

Scotti's green eyes popped wide.  "Bugs?"

"Gigantic, vicious, imaginary bugs that have never shown any interest whatsoever in hitching rides in anybody's clothing," Amy chuckled.  "But leave your clothes here.  It's easier."

"Oh."  That made sense.  After all, there was nobody around for miles.  Scotti turned and strolled to the bed, unbuttoning her shirt as she went.  Soon, she was as nude, naked, and clothing-free as the sisters (not counting everybody's moccasins).

"Here," Iris said, and tossed one of the terry-cloth bundles to Scotti.  "Your gift."

Scotti caught the roll and let it fall open in her hands.  It was, indeed, a towel... a very pretty towel in a Native American blanket pattern.  It was also unusually big, possibly a beach towel.  "Wow!  Thanks!"

"Mother ordered it from Pendleton," Iris explained.

"Mother has good color sense," Amy grinned.  "It's very Gingerella compatible."

Scotti had to agree the towel's green, gold, and orange shades went quite well with her complexion and hair.  "Thank you," she said (blushing) as she rolled up the soft, terrycloth gift.

"Tell Mother," the sisters said in unison, then quickly turned to grin at each other and shouted "Jinx!" also in unison.  "Double Jinx!" they added, then giggled.

"I will," Scotti promised, meaning she would, indeed, thank Sybil at her first opportunity.  She ignored the siblings' verbal shenanigans.

Scotti was now ready... meaning she was naked (not counting her moccasins), her new towel was re-rolled and tucked under her arm, and she was ready for departure... like an experienced skinny-dipper.

The trio left The Cottage, strolled across the compound to the trailhead down to the pond, then down the trail... past Iris' naturalistic hillside plantings... and arrived at the pond itself.  It was a short trip.

The inflow waterfall from up the mountain was splashing, but the disturbance faded quickly to standing ripples.  The outflow waterfall continued down the mountain with minimal fuss.  As swimming holes went, The Pond was too small for lap-swimming but larger than the average suburban backyard pool.  The entire mountainside was one steeply angled forest, so everything was mostly in shade.

"Is it cold?" Scotti inquired, gazing at the dark, rippling water.

"Freezing!" Iris answered, and her sister agreed, smiling and nodding, "but not this time of year.  Right now it's only cold."

"More like chilling," Amy chuckled.  "You'll love it."

There was a modest strip of grass running along the side of the pond near the discharge waterfall.  Vegetation grew right up to the water's edge everywhere else, and that included a lot of moss.  Scotti recognized the subtle hand of Iris DuPont, meaning she'd almost certainly encouraged all the right species to flourish in all the right places.  Yet, the overall appearance was totally natural.

The soon-to-be-skinny-dippers unrolled their towels and arranged them side-by-side on the lawn.  The DuPont sister's towels were also Pendleton products.  Not surprisingly, Iris' towel was predominantly black, with tan and brown accents, no doubt a pattern that could be traced back to the famous Goth tribe.  Amy's towel, however, was surprisingly bright and cheerful, shades of blue with gold and orange.  It might well have been inspired by the same tribe as Gingerella's gift.  Go figure.

"This place is not suitable for diving," Amy warned as she kicked off her moccasins, released the bandana enforcing her ponytail and dropped it on her towel, then padded to the water's edge.

"It's pretty deep," Iris added as she followed her sister to the water, "but Mother insists.  No diving."

And then, with jubilant squealing-shouts—"Weeeee!"—the DuPont sisters joined hands and jumped into the pond.

Scotti watched them disappear under the surface... then reappear, sputtering and laughing.

"That'll wake you up!" Amy exclaimed.

Frowning, Scotti dipped the toes of her right foot in the now churning water.  "Just as I thought," she muttered unhappily.  "Cold."

"We told you that," Amy chuckled as she dog-paddled in place.

"Yes, we did," Iris agreed, then grabbed Scotti's right foot, planted her feet on the pond's bank below the waterline, then pulled with all her strength, really putting her arm, back, and leg muscles into it.

"Eeeeee!" Scotti screamed as she windmilled her arms and fell forward into the water—Splash!—and disappeared under the surface!

Scotti and Iris surfaced almost immediately, with Iris laughing and Scotti sputtering in distress.

"You absolute rat!" Scotti accused.

"Lighten up, Gingerella," Amy laughed, then directed a generous splash of the frigid water directly into Scotti's outraged face.

Scotti splashed water in Amy's face in retaliation.

"Hey!  What was that?" Amy demanded, and Scotti grinned and splashed her again.  From that point, things rapidly degenerated into a full-blown conventional water-war.

Iris directed watery barrages at both of the other combatants, favoring neither the Gingerella nor the Villainous Villainess side of the conflict.  It was unrestricted surface and submarine horseplay.

If The Pond had had an actual lifeguard—in red trunks or one-piece tank-suit, cool shades, and a whistle on a lanyard—he or she would not have approved.

Scotti had to admit the water wasn't that cold.  She imagined that later in the year skinny-dipping would by unthinkable, but right now it wasn't too bad.  It certainly got your attention when an alleged friend dragged you into the pond's watery depths, but it wasn't too bad.  Okay, it's refreshing, Scotti decided.  There, I said it... meaning thought it.

Once an armistice was declared in The Great Splash War... everyone paddled around and enjoyed themselves... occasionally diving to explore the bottom... then drifted on the surface.  Most of the pond was in the shade, so eventually everybody decided that enough was enough... emerged dripping from the churning water... and sprawled on their towels and let the air dry them out.

Scotti lay on her back and gazed up at the cedar branches overhead.  There were a very few alders and a willow present, and now that the watery commotion was over, a flock of three or possibly four songbirds began flitting about their branches, gleaning for bugs.

"Chicka-dee-dee-dee!"

"Chickadee," Iris said quietly.  "Black-capped or Mountain.  We get both species."

"That was an alarm call," Amy added, "a general warning that ugly giant bipedal monsters with unknown eating habits are in the area."

"Should we be worried?" Scotti asked.

"No, probably not," Iris sighed... then did a half turn to face Scotti and propped herself up on one elbow.  "That reminds me.  Mother said she likes your freckles.  She thinks they're pretty."

"Very, pretty," Amy agreed.  "We were both there when she said it."

"Uh... okay," Scotti frowned.  "Remind me to thank her for liking my freckles when I thank her for the pretty towel."

"You misunderstand," Amy stated.

"Yes," Iris agreed."

"Mother likes your freckles and therefore thinks you need more of them," Amy explained.

"No tan-lines," Iris added, "or in your case, no freckle-lines.  No unsightly white boobs and bikini-area."

"With cute little ginger bush," Amy purred.

Scotti continued frowning.  Things were getting a little weird... or possibly ominous.  And then... it happened!

Amy pounced!  That is, she erupted from her blanket, climbed onto Scotti and her blanket, and straddled the startled ginger, pinning her on her back—"Hey!"—before Scotti knew what was happening!  "Get off me!"  Amy's pale, naked body was atop Scotti with her lower-legs and knees to either side of Gingerella's torso and hips.  Her hands were clutching Scotti's hands (with their fingers intertwined), and pinning them to either side of her startled, outraged, and protesting head.  "I said get off me, you horse!"

Scotti squirmed and kicked and rolled her shoulders and attempted to buck her attacker off her helpless form, all to no avail.  Amy was just too strong (as well as naked, smiling, and with long, black, damp, semi-tousled hair).  Scotti continued fighting, but her efforts were insufficient.  She chalked it up to Amy's countless hours of wrestling wood in the shop.  Anyway...  "Let.  Me.  Go!"

Meanwhile, Iris had padded to a nearby bush, reached behind, and returned to the scene of the ongoing crime with a rolled up black plastic trash bag.  Scotti assumed it was full of coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline, thin brown cord (for binding big toes), and gagging supplies, but as it turned out, she was wrong.  She paused in her futile struggles and watched with wide green eyes as Iris reached into the only slightly bulging bag and produced a shiny steel stake with a bent staple at the top, a small steel ring, and corkscrew-type turns in the base to twist it into the ground!  It's a ground-anchor, Scotti realized, the kind used to tether dogs by their collars!

"What's that?" Scotti demanded.

"A ground-anchor," Iris explained, "the kind used to tether dogs by their collars!"

That's what I said... mentally, Scotti thought, pausing in her resistance, then frowned and resumed her anti-Amy efforts.  "I know what it is!" she huffed in a somewhat cranky manner, "but what is it for?"  Then, she watched as Iris screwed the anchor into the lawn in the general vicinity of where Amy was pinning her left hand to the ground.  Then, Iris reached back into the bag and produced a bundle of milky-white plastic cable-ties, each about eleven inches in length.  "Oh!" Scotti gasped, and continued watching as Iris pulled a tie free from the bundle and—with Amy's help—pulled Scotti's left hand close to the stake and vrrriped the tie closed around her left wrist and through the ground-anchor's steel swivel-ring!  "No!" Scotti objected, tugging on the tie and anchor.  The anchor/stake was rock-solid, but the free end of the tie flopped as she struggled to free herself.

"Stop that or you'll mark your wrist," Amy scolded.  "Mother would be very unhappy."

"Ohhh!" Scotti complained (pouted).  She dialed back the intensity of her escape efforts, but continued struggling.

Meanwhile, Iris had deployed three more ground-anchors, selected three more cable ties, and—Vrirrip!  Vrrrip!  Vrrrip!—Scotti was now staked out in a full spreadeagle atop her pretty new towel!  Her condition wasn't exactly stringent, so she was able to add a little shoulder-rolling, thigh-churning, knee-flopping, and elbow-flailing to her repertoire of struggles.  By their gloating smiles it was quite obvious the DuPont sisters were finding her Heroic Resistance to be very entertaining, but Scotti persevered.  It was the honorable thing to do.

"Don't worry," Iris purred.  "Whenever we do this we'll use a different appendage.  Not just wrists and ankles, but fingers and toes as well."

"That way it'll distribute the potential damage, and more importantly, you won't get any unsightly bondage lines interrupting your freckles," Amy added.  "Mother will be pleased."

Scotti stopped squirming and stared daggers at her smiling captors.  "As long as 'Mother' is pleased," she growled, then looked up at the cedar canopy overhead... and smiled.  "Hah!" she huffed.  "Joke's on you.  We're in the shade."

"Of course we're in the shade," Amy chuckled.

"You know how easily we burn," Iris added, indicating the pale skin of her own naked self with a graceful sweeping gesture.

"In the shade," Amy purred, "but only for now."  She then pointed to the side.

Scotti lifted her head and looked.  Scotti and her towel were third in line, and immediately to her left the pool-side lawn was in direct sun, and a quick calculation of the relevant celestial mechanics led her to the inescapable conclusion that the burning (and freckle-generating) sun would be steadily, inexorably creeping in her direction as the afternoon progressed!  "You've done this before," Scotti accused.  The conclusion was inescapable.  Not only would the DuPont sisters (especially Iris-the-gardener) be familiar with the seasonal and daily sun pattern, but the necessary supplies for involuntary sunbathing had already been on hand.  There was only one flaw.

Scotti focused her scowl on Amy.  "What did 'Mother' say when Wednesday"—she nodded at her grinning ex-roommate—"returned from a skinny-dipping expedition with advanced sunburn?"

Amy reached under her towel and produced a tube of Hawaiian Tropic® sunscreen lotion (SPF 50).  "It didn't happen," she purred, holding the tube in her pale hand for Scotti's inspection.

Come to think of it, Scotti had watched earlier as both sisters applied sunscreen to their pale bodies during pauses in the watery fun.  I should have known sunburn isn't an issue, she realized.  At least two tubes of potent sunscreen are available!  Then, her green eyes popped wide in alarm.  Two tubes of potent sunscreen are available!  Both DuPont sisters were smiling at her.  Amy's tube was still in her hand, and as Scotti watched, Iris reached under her blanket and produced her tube.

The threat of the involuntary application of floral-scented solar protection to all or most of Scotti's already somewhat freckled body by the sliding/slippery hands of the Wicked DuPont Sisters loomed large!  It was a definite possibility, meaning a near certainty, and there was nothing Scotti could do to stop it!

"Ohhh..." Scotti complained, pouting and staring up at Amy and Iris' smiling faces as she weakly (meaning prudently) tugged, kicked, and twisted, fighting her minimal but inescapable bonds.