by Van ©2022
		Chapter 10

Meanwhile, on the novel writing front...  Scotti found herself in a wrestling match with the plot outline and character notes, but she wasn't worried.

The budding author had made a little progress shifting the setting into the realm of the Steampunk genre, despite the required research into pseudo-Steam Age technological tropes, highly questionable science, and pseudo-Victorian fashion.  (The internet is a wonderful thing.)  However, a mental resistance movement had built and built and finally blossomed into a full-blown rebellion!  The story kept trying to drag itself in the direction of High Fantasy!  Dragons and talking cats kept popping into Scotti's thoughts, as did plucky young princesses in Robin Hood outfits stalking through the forest accompanied by loyal companions who may or may not have Special Powers.  Also... elves... really hot elves... with pointy ears!  And what's not to like about elves?

Scotti finally decided to stop fighting and just let it happen.  Why not have a self-reliant and wilderness-savvy young heroine?  And why not combine aspects of both genres?  Longbows, swords, and wicked-cool airships?  That could work.  However, she drew the line at firearms, not out of squeamishness—problem solving with bladed weapons could get plenty bloody—but out of "world-building" concerns.  Unleash ever-improving gunpowder technology and serious damage to charming stone castles would inevitably follow... and where was the fun in that?  And as for sorcery, witchcraft, and supernatural jiggery-pokery in general?  Scotti was undecided.  She'd probably use magick in some manner, but judiciously and only as a balancing element.

The wrestling continued, but Scotti could tell her mind wasn't thrashing, it was working.  Soon she'd be ready to formalize her outline and could take a stab at writing the first draft of the first chapter.

Meanwhile, time passed, one day at a time.  Scotti's idyllic existence at The Cottage continued and... stuff happened.  Specifically...

With respect to Amy, Scotti let the eldest DuPont sister suffer the Exquisite Agony of Complete Suspense.  That is, she let the threat of the "Penalty Kick" Sybil had granted her in the wake of The Great Skinny-Dipping And Freckle-Farming Debacle loom over Amy's head like the Sword of Damocles.  (Scotti had no idea why the DuPonts had decided to usurp soccer/foot-ball terminology for the rules of their Bondage Game, and she kept forgetting to ask.)

Anyway, day after day... nothing... but Amy knew that at some point Scotti would lower the boom, demand that Amy strip so she could be tied up in some hideous fashion, and there would be nothing the elder DuPont sister could do but meekly submit.  The alternative would be to disappoint Mother, which was unthinkable.  Now and then—during chance encounters, family meals, or while they were all gathered in the Television Sitting Room in the Main House and watching a movie or something—Scotti would let Amy catch her gazing in her direction with just a hint of a smug, gloating smile.  But for now, nothing else happened.

Unfortunately, Scotti had to admit that Amy was holding up quite well under the no doubt crushing burden of all that gripping anxiety, like she didn't have a care in the world.  Spoilsport!

With respect to Iris, Scotti also didn't invoke her outstanding Penalty Kick, but she did continue relying on the youngest DuPont sister for help developing her practical rigging skills.  Almost every night found Scotti and Iris together, either in The Cottage or Iris' bedroom, with one or the other (or both) naked and one or the other tying the other up with coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline.

Wait!  Both Scotti and Iris were sometimes naked and helplessly bound?  Wasn't Scotti the one with all the power?  Wasn't Scotti the one able to command total obedience thanks to the threat of the ever-looming Penalty Kick?  Yes, but it was only logical.  The learning process required the ginger scholar to both tie and be tied, to apply ropes to Iris and to feel the ropes tighten around herself with Iris carefully explaining what she was doing and why.  That had been Iris' position, anyway, and Scotti had accepted her ex-roommate's inescapable (pun intended) logic.

Anyway, most nights after dinner Scotti and Iris "studied" together in The Cottage or Iris' bedroom, half the time with Scotti doing the rigging and half the time being Iris' naked teaching dummy.

Skill-wise, Scotti made rapid progress.  The duo worked their way through the most popular bondage variations—box-tie, hogtie, frog-tie, shrimp-tie, ladder-tie, diamond-hitch-tie, etc., etc.—but they decided to put off on experimenting with suspension harnesses.  Too much danger of rope-burns.  Anyway, Scotti made progress.

And oh-by-the-way, Iris managed to extract a sort of Side-Compensation for her tutoring efforts.  She brought up the issue of Mother liking Scotti's freckles and proposed expediting their production by having Scotti strip naked whenever she helped in the garden!  At first Scotti refused, stating that Iris was a "Goth perv" for even suggesting clothing-free yardwork.  (She also blushed.)  Iris persevered, however, pointing out that Sybil was a wonderful mother to both her biological offspring and any ginger house-guests who happened to be hanging around.  Also, when you think about it, naked gardening wasn't markedly different from skinny-dipping.  Grubbier and less wet?  Yes, but naked was naked.  It was hard for Scotti to argue with that.  Finally, Iris shyly confessed that she was also of the opinion that Scotti's freckles were quite becoming.  And as an added bonus, nude horticulture would be an opportunity for more research.

"Research?" Scotti scoffed.  "What research?"

Iris smiled.  "I'll show you tomorrow," she promised, and said nothing more.

Scotti would have pursued the matter further, but they were in the middle of a weeknight rigging lesson in Iris' bedroom—it was Scotti's turn to be Iris' naked-rigging-manikin—she was stringently bound in a reverse-prayer box-tie with her legs ladder-tied together from waist (and crotch) to ankles (and big-toes)—and Iris had chosen that instant to complete her bondage-tableau by tying a bandana-cleave-gag (with wadded handkerchief stuffing).  "Mrrrf!"  Scotti had no choice but to put the prospect of naked gardening on hold.  Dammit!  Maybe Iris would forget about it by morning.

No such luck.

Breakfast happened and, as always, the Plan-of-the-Day was established.  Sybil and Iris would be busy in the shop all morning.  There was a small furniture order nearing completion and a coordinated push would get everything finished and ready for shipment by the end of the day.  Iris announced she had a "minor landscaping project" she wanted to start in one of the side gardens and requisitioned Scotti's help.  (Iris also winked at Scotti when the others weren't looking, confirming that mischief was afoot.)

Cleanup happened... then the furniture-making and gardening contingents dispersed.

Dressed for gardening (boots, jeans, work-shirt. gloves, and wide-brimmed sunhat), Scotti met her similarly attired rigging instructor near a small gardening shed tucked between the far side of Main House and the back of the Storage Building.

"Okay, what's this 'project' you supposedly need my help with?" Scotti demanded.  It was clear all of this was just a ruse to get her away from the others so Iris could do something freckle-generating to her, and it was certainly a good day for it.  The morning mist had already burned off, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and according to the forecast it was going to stay that way through the weekend.

"We're going to build a wall," Iris explained with an enthusiastic smile.

Scotti was dubious.  "A wall."

"A stone wall," Iris elaborated.

"To keep out the bears?" Scotti drawled.

"No, silly," Iris chuckled, "one of those ancient, tumbled-down, moss-covered walls to define part of the edge of the main clearing.  It won't keep out anything but will be very Romantic.  Overgrown ruins are always Romantic."

"Romantic."

"Not right away," Iris conceded.  "It'll take months to cultivate the moss, but in order to make a mossy tumbled-down wall you need a large pile of rocks."

Scotti rolled her eyes.  "How profound."

Iris grinned, then turned to the garden shed and opened the door.  "And to gather rocks..."  She made a sweeping gesture.  "You need a rock hauler."

Scotti found herself staring at a sturdy, high-end garden cart, the kind you can find at any well-stocked home improvement store.  It had four rubber wheels, a black tubular steel frame, a rectangular bed of heavy-duty green plastic, and a sturdy tongue with a detachable handle, probably so the cart could be directly hitched to a garden tractor.  It was like a scaled up adult version of a child's little-red-wagon... only green

Scotti stared at the cart as Iris took hold of the handle and rolled it out of the shed.  "Uh, very nice," she muttered.

"Okay, strip and let's get started," Iris beamed.

Scotti's green eyes popped appropriately wide.  I knew it!  "What?"

Iris clapped her gloved hands together.  Thump-thump!  "Chop-chop!  Clothing off.  You can't make freckles wearing clothes.  And that's the point of the exercise, remember?"

Scotti continued staring at the cart.  "I thought we were building a wall."

"Multitasking, Gingerella, multitasking," Iris chuckled.  She clapped her hands again.  Thump-thump!  "Strip, but keep the boots.  You're gonna need the boots."

Scotti stared daggers at her smiling so-called friend for the appropriate number of disapproving seconds... then removed her hat and gloves and started unbuttoning her shirt.  She continued disrobing, stripping off her shirt, the underlying tank-top, then her bra, jeans, and panties.  This first required unlacing and removing her boots... then the aforementioned disrobing... then putting them back on again.  Her costume reduced to socks and boots, Scotti crossed her arms over her breasts and resumed staring daggers.

"Hey, brighten up," Iris chuckled.  "Not only is this helping you with your research, but once Mother realizes you're willing to make sacrifices on her behalf to improve your freckle collection, you'll have her eating out of your peachy-pink, sun-kissed hand."

Scotti continued staring.  "Maybe she'll grant me additional Penalty Kicks," she growled.

Iris shrugged.  "Who knows?"  She pointed at the ground under Scotti's boots—"Stay!"—then stepped into the garden shed and quickly returned holding a swaying, rattling mass of narrow black leather straps and shiny steel rings, rivets, and buckles.

Scotti quickly realized the tinkling conglomeration was a body harness, especially after Iris dropped a portion of it over her pouting head and started threading individual straps through individual buckles and snugging the straps tight!

"Hey!" Scotti objected.

"Stifle!" Iris commanded.  "You need some way to pull the cart, don't you?"

Scotti rolled her eyes.  "You mean like... oh, I don't know... the handle?"

"Bor-ing!" Iris chuckled as she continued tightening and buckling straps.

Inevitably, Scotti found herself wearing a snug harness that yoked her shoulders, encircled her torso above and below her breasts and around her waist, and passed through her crotch, threatening to cleave her pussy-lips!  "Hey!"  The boob-framing straps also pinned her upper-arms against her body and trapped her folded arms behind her back in box-tie fashion, with cuff-like straps confining her wrists and forearms.  Scotti executed a vigorous (and surly) Courtesy Struggle... with the expected results.  This was the first time a DuPont had restrained her with something other than coffee-stained clothesline.  "You guys make furniture and do leather crafting?" she huffed.

Iris shook her head.  "No, silly.  Just like Mother buys our steel hardware from Cody Archer, she has other friends who meet our leather needs."

Scotti ceased her futile but required-by-etiquette harness testing and watched as Iris released and removed a pair of cotter-pins on the shaft of the cart's handle, then replaced the handle section with a steel fitting with three dangling chains terminating in swing-gate carabiners.  She backed Scotti to the front of the cart, then snapped the carabiners through D-rings solidly sewn into the harness, one on either shoulder-strap and the third at Scotti's waist, just below her folded arms.  Click!  Click!  Click!  And now Scotti and the cart were one!  Gingerella was a harnessed Pony-Girl!

A shiver rippled down Scotti's spine and rebounded off the harness' crotch-strap.  This was definitely research!  And on new ground!  Scotti had never delved deeply into the scholarly aspects of pony-play, nor was it one of her literary fantasies... but here she was.  Wow.  She tugged against the empty cart and the three chains snapped taut.  The harness appeared to be doing its job, distributing the weight of the cart in the proper ergonomic manner.  "What now?" she demanded (ignoring the way the crotch-strap pressed against her pussy).

"Hold on," Iris chuckled.  "We're not quite ready."

Scotti frowned.  "What else is there for you to—MRRFH!"  Iris had thrust a rubber bit in her unsuspecting mouth and was buckling its strap at the nape of her neck, under her ginger pageboy!  Once Iris stepped back, Scotti shook her head and tried to dislodge the bit-gag.  All she accomplished was to cause her short, straight hair to sway and shake... then settle back into her usual charming trademark coif.  Scotti was not happy.  "Mrrrpfrm!"

"Whoa, girl," Iris chuckled.  "Settle down.  Don't make me get the nipple-clamp-reins."

Scotti stopped squirming and her green eyes popped wide above her new rubber bit-gag.  Say what?

Iris smile was sinister and wicked, much like her big sister's when she was up to no good.  Iris nodded towards the open shed.  "There's a set right in there," she purred.  "Clover-clamps with a connecting chain and two more chains that attach to the rings on either end of the bit.  Add a pair of leather reins and you can lead your pretty pony from the front or the back.  Would you like me to show you?"

No, Gingerella did not want Wednesday to show her!  Green eyes still wide, Scotti shook her head rather frantically, once again causing her pageboy to sway.  (Her nipples were now pointing, by the way, but this was from fear and certainly not out of curiosity.)

"Allrightiethen," Iris chuckled.  "I know several places we can find rocks around here, and the cart will easily fit between most of the trees.  If we stay off the really steep slopes and don't overload the cart we should be fine.  Unfortunately, the most suitable rocks are up to a quarter-mile away.  We'll need to do this in many trips of small loads, so we better get started.  I'm sure we'll make reasonable progress before lunch."  She stepped back into the shed... and returned immediately holding—

"Mrrrk?"  Scotti's eyes popped wide once again, and her heart was hammering!  Iris was brandishing a black leather riding crop!

Once again, Iris' smile was sinister, wicked, and decidedly Amy-like.  "I'm sure you'll be a hardworking pony and will haul a ton of rocks, but be careful.  I'll guide you around any fallen timber, but watch your footing... especially after you start getting tired and sweaty."  Iris reached out and used the floppy loop at the business end of the crop to lightly tap the outer slope of Scotti's left boob.

Scotti flinched when it happened—Tap-tap!—but it was more humiliating than painful.  Actually, it wasn't painful at all.  She summoned the courage to glare at her grinning handler.

Iris tossed the crop into the cart, then briefly reentered the shed and returned with a gardening tool with a long handle and a straight, sturdy, hoe-like business-end suitable for edging or general grubbing-in-the-ground.  "For prying out half-buried rocks," she explained.  "Now, follow close, but not too close.  Off we go."  And with that, the younger DuPont Villainous Villainess stepped off, using the garden tool like a walking stick and heading for a strategic gap between a pair of nearby flowerbeds.

Scotti rolled her green eyes, heaved the required tragic sigh, and followed.  The chains of her harness snapped taut and the empty cart followed as well.  Scotti was beginning to think that maybe she ought to rethink the degree of planning initiative she was granting Iris with respect to her research program.

By lunchtime Iris and her pony had repeatedly crisscrossed the slopes of the mountain for a quarter-mile in all directions and in the process had chased down quite a few wall-worthy rocks and returned them to the DuPont Compound.  There, they formed a slowly growing pile and patiently awaited assembly into a disassembled wall.  Most were skull-sized or slightly larger.  Iris had pried or lifted them out of or off the forest floor and loaded them into the cart; but, of course, it was Scotti who did all the hauling.  Soon, they were both sweaty from their respective labors.  Luckily, a variety of cool, refreshing beverages were stockpiled in the kitchen refrigerator back at The Main House, so they didn't need to load up the grape-colored YETI® cooler and haul it around with them.

Anyway, while the resulting pile was impressive, Iris shook her head and announced that it was going to take several strenuous days to gather enough tonnage to construct the ruined wall she envisioned.

Gingerella had performed most of her labors under the shade of the cedar canopy, but nonetheless had clocked significant freckle generation time.  The sun was never an issue for Iris, of course, as she was totally protected by her long sleeved shirt, jeans, gloves, and sunhat.  Yes, the smiling semi-Goth miscreant was well protected (and sweaty).

And speaking of lunchtime, the noon meal happened on the deck with Sybil serving sandwiches, chips, and fruit to her daughters and Scotti—who remained in her pony costume of body-harness, boots, bit-gag, and sweat!  She was blushing like crazy, especially when Sybil started cooing and fussing over her supposed "significant progress" in improving her freckle collection.  Amy was amused, while Iris made it clear she was disgustingly proud of her role in Scotti's frecklization.

And speaking of making a fuss, Sybil had unbuckled Scotti's bit-gag and left it dangling around her neck, then used a damp kitchen towel to cleanse Scotti's face, shoulders, and boobs, all the while murmuring her appreciation of Gingerella's bravery, fortitude, and stamina.

While this was happening, Amy and Iris (smiling like the Villainous Villainesses they were) took over the final meal preparations.  Obviously, the sisters were quite enjoying watching Mother inflict her pampering proclivities on someone other than themselves.  Anyway, lunch happened with Iris hand-feeding Scotti and without any discussion of the dubious nature of Iris' gardening methodology.

As soon as the cleanup was over (which Scotti smugly watched, seeing as she was helplessly harnessed and unable to pitch in), Sybil and Amy returned to The Work Shop to finish the last of the furniture order while Iris informed her pony that it was time to resume rock-gathering.

"Iris!" Scotti whined.  "I thought we were done for the day!"

"You can't be that tired," Iris purred as she unbuckled the bit-gag and thrust it between Scotti's pouting lips.

"Mrrrf!"

Three more hours of rock-gathering happened!  It was outrageous!  Actually, it was more like two-and-a-half hours, and Iris set a reasonable pace.  The rock pile grew, including a special side-pile of the most interestingly shaped rocks Iris planned on using for the most visible portions of the ruins to make them "maximally picturesque."

And thanks to Scotti's bit-gag, all conversation between the youngest DuPont and her Pony-Girl was totally one-sided.  It was infuriating... for Scotti.  Iris was having a grand old time.  The smiling little reprobate had detailed plans for her wall, and she was anxious to share them with Scotti as they worked.

It would seem Iris had a fondness for all the adorable indigenous forest creatures and wanted to help alleviate the furry critter housing situation.  That is, she'd seen a YouTube video showing baby weasels darting in and out of a stone wall and thought engineering a maze of weasel-friendly passages and nesting chambers into her wall would be a fabulous idea!  She prattled on and on about her planned layout (which included a small birdbath that would double as a Weasel Hydration Station) until Scotti was sick to death of hearing about it.

Iris finally called it a day around 3-PM!  Imagine!  She emptied the last load of weasel housing material atop the other rocks, then led her pony and cart to a hose-station near the storage shed.  She unhitched Gingerella... who then watched, sullen and glistening with sweat, as Iris hosed off the cart and propped it against the side of the garden shed so it could drip dry.  Next, Iris gathered Scotti's clothes and rolled them into a bundle, then led her pouting pony into the main house.

Their destination—meaning Iris' destination as Scotti was still strapped in the leather body-harness and bit-gagged and had no choice in the matter—was the DuPonts' home gym.

Scotti watched as Iris turned on the medium-sized dry sauna built into one of the gym-walls, then rummaged in a cabinet and produced a coiled bundle of the ubiquitous DuPont coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline.  Scotti rolled her eyes.  I should have known.  Iris released the coil, looped one end around Scotti's neck and tied a loose bowline... then tied the other end to the gym's weight rack.  Thus, Gingerella the tired and sweaty pony was now tethered in place.

Scotti continued watching as Iris undressed... completely.  Soon, the pale-skinned miscreant was sweaty and nude.  She neatly folded her clothes and stacked them atop her boots, next to Scotti's bundled clothes, then smiled and strolled back in Scotti's naked, sweaty, booted, harness-bound, and bit-gagged direction.

"Pay attention, now," Iris purred as she released Scotti's coffee-stained tether and spun her around.  "Bondage transition can be a challenge.  You have to keep your, uh, 'subject' helpless at all times.  Otherwise, she might turn the tables, and what would be the fun in that?"

A whole lot of fun, Scotti silently fumed as Iris started fussing with the harness straps that cuffed her wrists and forearms.  Tons of fun!  A plentiful plenitude of fun!

When Iris was finished with her bondage transition demonstration the harness was a jumbled pile on the floor but Scotti remained helpless.  Specifically, her hands were bound behind her back, palm-to-palm.  Single strands of clothesline tightly encircling her thumbs, hands, and wrists, then the rope continued up Scotti's arms, ladder-tie fashion, pressing her elbows together, and ending by yoking her shoulders.  Vigilant escapologist that she was, Scotti knew there were two key knots she'd have to untie in order to wiggle free, the first somewhere between her wrists, and the second somewhere between her shoulder blades.  Unfortunately, bound as she was, the knots might as well be on the moon.

After the required (but halfhearted) Courtesy Struggle, Scotti gazed down at Iris as she knelt at her feet and began unlacing her boots.  The grumpy prisoner considered kicking her naked handler in her smug face, but...  (1) She wanted out of her sweaty boots and socks, and...  (2) There was no way she was going to actually kick Iris, not for real, and especially not with steel-toed work boots.

Anyway, naked, sweaty, rope-bound, and bit-gagged, Scotti was next forced to endure the humiliation of a long, cold rinse under the shower next to the sauna.  There was a pause while Iris rinsed herself... then Iris turned off the shower and used dollops of liquid soap and her hands to thoroughly rub-a-dub-dub both their wet bodies.  The water was turned back on, the suds sluiced off their bodies and disappeared down the drain, then Iris led her dripping, glistening, sulking captive through the cedar door, the wall of hot air beyond, and into the sauna.

Scotti watched in a resentful manner as Iris filled a wooden bucket at a faucet with a wooden handle... then used a wooden ladle to wet down the benches.  Next, she "forced" Scotti to sit on one of the upper benches... then sat next to her.

Actually, Scotti had found the shower to be welcome, even exhilarating (including the involuntary soaping and rubbing), and if Iris had politely suggested that a nice relaxing sauna might be a good idea, she'd probably have nodded in bit-gagged agreement, but Scotti was a helpless prisoner, so she had obligations... like acting the role of the reluctant martyr.

About a minute passed... maybe two.  The sauna wasn't quite up to optimum temperature, but it was definitely getting there.  The water from the shower evaporated... and was replaced by fresh sweat.

"Mrrrf," Scotti complained.

Iris opened an eye.  "What?"

"MRRRF!" Scotti huffed.

"Okay," Iris chuckled as she leaned close, unbuckled Scotti's gag, eased the rubber bit from her mouth, and set the device down on the bench.

Scotti worked her jaw, licked her lips, and stared daggers at her grinning captor.

"You're welcome," Iris chuckled.

"Shut up!' Scotti huffed.  "I'm not speaking to you.  Also... shut up."

Iris smiled sweetly and closed her eyes again.  "Don't worry," she said after a few seconds.  "I'll let you get me back after supper... back in your cottage."

Scotti opened her mouth to tell Iris what she could do with her offer to "get me back," then paused.  She was tired, but this was an opportunity.  "Even if it involves the pink gym bag?"

Iris gazed at her naked, sweaty, ginger prisoner with one brown eye... and her lips curled in a slight suggestion of a saucy/wicked smile.  "You mean Amy's cute little erotic toy kit?  The one you've been selfishly hoarding in your closet without permission?

"The very same," Scotti confirmed.  "I've been thinking of using all or part of it on Amy, whenever I get around to cashing in my Penalty Kick... which means I'll need to practice."

"I see," Iris purred, closing her eye again.  "You're pretty gutsy to bring it up while you're the one that's naked and tied up," she noted.

"As opposed to naked and obligated?" Scotti suggested with a wry grin.

Eyes still closed, Iris heaved a tragic sigh.  "A conscience is a burdensome thing," she observed.

That night in The Cottage...

---

Wednesday was naked, bound, and flat on her back on the bed.  Gingerella was naked, not bound in any way, and also flat on her back on the bed, next to her prisoner.  The rigging details were:

     • Iris' wrists were crossed and tied together, then her arms raised and folded back behind her head.

     • A rope harness encircled her torso above and below her breasts, yoked her shoulders, and anchored her wrist bonds.

     • Additional cinched bands of rope lashed her upper-arms to her forearms, rendering wiggling out of the raised arms arrangement quite impossible.
 
     • Her legs were tied together with separate bindings around and between her thighs, just above her knees, just below her knees, around her lower-legs, and her ankles, feet, and big toes.

     • Finally, the toe-binding cord stretched down to the bed's foot-board, thereby tethering Iris to the bed.

Why the elaborate and unarguably redundant leg bindings?  Why not?  Also, as Scotti reasoned, if you're going to over-bind a damsel's legs, you might as well include her feet and toes.  She might lack practical rigging experience and wasn't yet at the level of a rope-happy sadistic bitch like Amy, but she was making progress.

And speaking of erotic torture, the infamous Hello Kitty bikini swimsuit bottom was once again cladding Iris' loins!  And, of course, the insidious remote-controlled Panty Teaser vibrator was once again tucked inside its custom-sewn spandex pocket in the interior lining and thus ideally positioned to nestle against Iris' horrified pussy with optimal/maximal contact!

And Iris had let Scotti slide the pink fashion atrocity (with its overly amorous, black, pickle-shaped vibrator) up her legs and up to her hips and crotch without objection (so Scotti wasn't too guilt-ridden).

Her rigging complete, Scotti was examining the various menus of the newly installed Panty Teaser control app on her iPhone.

"The interface is pretty intuitive," Iris stated, squirming in her bonds for comfort.  "Now... can you please get on with your 'test' so you can untie me and we can get some sleep?  I'm tired."  She squirmed again.  "And remember... no more than five minutes."

"Ten minutes," Scotti responded, her attention still on the iPhone's tiny screen.

"Five minutes," Iris corrected.  "We agreed on five minutes."

"Yes, we did," Scotti agreed, "but now you're tied up and helpless... so it's ten minutes.  The point of all this is to learn how to use this thing to torture Amy, and you know I always do my due diligence."

Iris rolled her eyes, suppressed the smile threatening to curl her pouting lips, and stared up at the cottage rafters.  Scotti was definitely making progress.

Scotti frowned.  "What's with this first menu item?  I'm to select 'PT' or 'SR5'?  What's that about?"

"PT is Panty Teaser," Iris explained.

"Obvi," Scotti huffed.  "And SR5?"

Iris grinned smugly.  "It's something else."

"Well?" Scotti inquired after several seconds.

Iris shook her head.  "You don't have a need to know."

"Need to know," Scotti scoffed, frowning at the glowing screen.  And then, her smile returned.  "If only there was something I could do to make you more... responsive."

"You need to trust me on things like this," Iris purred, "otherwise your research might get off—TRAAACK!  Turn it off!  Turn it off!"

Scotti had stabbed the screen and the Panty Teaser had responded by continuously vibrating on full power!  She stabbed the screen again and the clearly audible buzzing abruptly ceased.

Big brown eyes wide, Iris panted for several seconds, then turned her head and rounded on her captor.  "Full power without any warning?  That just isn't done!  It's... rude!"

"Terribly sorry," Scotti chuckled, still staring at the screen and scrolling through the control settings.  "SR5 wouldn't refer to whatever Special Catalog item you guys keep in the fifth storeroom of the storage building, would it?"

Iris turned her head back to once again stare up at the rafters.  "You're not as stupid as you look," she muttered.  "But torture me all you want.  I still won't tell you.  I value our friendship too much to degrade your research program by spoiling a really juicy future surprise opportunity in such an egregious fashion."

"How sweet of you," Scotti purred.  "Here, I think I've found the program I need.  If I'm reading the abbreviated description correctly, it steadily builds from minimum to maximum over the course of five minutes.  So..."  She stabbed the screen.

Iris flinched... then began squirming her hips.  The Panty Teaser was just barely vibrating... and was just barely audible.  "I suppose you think this will make me talk," she huffed.

"No, Agent DuPont.  I think it will make you cum," Scotti chuckled, "and whenever you do cum, I'll immediately shift this thing to continuous maximum.  That should make you talk.  Tell me what's in the fifth storeroom... and how we can use it to torture Amy."

Slowly... inexorably... the Panty Teaser's intensity began to build... and there was nothing Iris could do about it.  Yes, without a doubt, she mused, Scotti is quite definitely making progress, rapid progress!