by Van ©2015
		Chapter 1

The young woman was dressed in a bodysuit of black Darlex.  Comprised of a thin layer of neoprene sandwiched between two layers of spandex, the skintight garment hugged and revealed her every curve, where they weren't covered by black leather, that is.

Her feet were laced into knee-boots with ridiculously high heels, keeping them permanently in the pointe position, and a punishingly tight corset with steel stays constricted her waist from her hips to just below her Darlex-encased breasts.

There were additional accessories which, taken together, caused her ensemble to cross the line from kinky into bondage.  Specifically:

A single-sleeve armbinder restrained her arms behind her back.  It laced closed, like the boots and corset, and its cruel, cunning design pressed her fingers, hands, and forearms together along their entire lengths.  For added security, it incorporated broad, thick straps that buckled around her wrists and just above her elbows.

A full-length body-harness of similar straps encircled her torso and pressed the armbinder against her spine.  Individual straps yoked her shoulders, passed above and below her breasts, encircled her corset-constricted waist, dove between her legs to cleave her Darlex-covered crotch and anchor the ring at the tip of the armbinder, then continued down her legs to encircle her thighs, pass above and below her knees, across the shins and calves of her boots, and bind her ankles.  The final strap passed under the boots' heels and buckled across their insteps.

A posture collar similar to the corset, all the way down to the details of the stitching and its use of steel stays, restricted the movement of the woman's head.  It also served to anchor both the upper portion of the body-harness and the top of the armbinder.

The woman's head was completely covered by a Darlex hood.  It had openings for her eyes and mouth, as well as a pair of small holes over the woman's nostrils, but at the moment a blindfold covered her eyes and a panel-gag pressed against her mouth.

The gag included a large wedge of medium density foam and was breathable, in that a small steel tube pierced both the mouth-filling plug and the leather panel.  The end of the tube could be sealed with a small screw-cap, but at the moment the cap was loose and dangling at the end of a light, strong, three-inch retaining chain.

None of the woman's skin was visible, not counting the limited exposure of her flaring nostrils, and there were additional elements to her predicament.

Earbuds, tiny headphones, had been inserted into her ears before the application of the hood.  They attached to a compact Bluetooth transmitter clipped to the back of the armbinder.  The transmitter, in turn, linked to the household electronics and could broadcast music, voice, white noise, or act in a noise-cancelling capacity.  The later two options made the earbuds quite effective earplugs.  At the moment, white noise was droning in the woman's ears.

Finally, and it was in no way a minor detail, a large, pill-type vibrator was lodged in the woman's vagina and both the Darlex catsuit and the body-harness' crotch-strap were making very sure it stayed there.  It also had a Bluetooth control unit and battery pack, which was clipped to the front of the body harness and provided computer control of the timing and intensity of the pill's vibrations.  The intruder was currently sending a never-ending series of weak pulses through the woman's pussy that were more or less synchronized with the beating of her heart.

The woman wasn't entirely sure of her exact location.  She'd been rendered into her current helpless state and then carried to wherever she was.  She could tell she was lying on a hard surface, possibly a concrete floor, and that was all.  She was mildly overheated and had begun to sweat, but that wasn't a clue.  Encasement in Darlex and leather always made her sweat.  She squirmed in her bonds and rolled on the floor... then relaxed, panting through her nostrils... then squirmed and rolled some more.  Wherever she was, it was a large space.  Perhaps further "exploration" would bring her to a piece of furniture or some other clue.  She rolled again... and bumped against something solid, either a very large cabinet or a wall, but nothing with a telltale shape.  Not that she was in a condition that allowed her to sense much if anything about anything, of course.

Anyway, she'd come up against something hard.  She writhed and kicked and squirmed some more, and decided the "it" in question was a wall.  She still didn't know where she was.

Suddenly, the white noise stopped and was immediately replaced by a familiar, disembodied female voice.  It was the young woman's Mistress!

"Good news, naughty girl," Mistress' voice said.  "Your friend has taken the bait.  As we speak—or rather, as I speak—she's walking into the trap."

The woman twisted her bound body, kicked her bound legs, and forced a scream past her gag.  "Mrrrpfh!"

"It's no use," her Mistress chuckled.  "You can't do anything to stop it, not now.  And besides, you've only just begun to work off your weekly demerits."

The woman continued struggling, but it was true.  She couldn't help her friend.  She couldn't even help herself.

"Well, I just thought you'd like to know," Mistress continued.  "I'll leave you to it."

The white noise returned and the woman stopped her pointless struggles and heaved a gagged sigh—which turned into a gagged yelp!  The pill had suddenly given her an electronic goose, a one-second pulse at full power!  It immediately returned to its former low power setting, but...  Wait for it...  Yes, she was sure.  The control program was in "crescendo mode."  The vibration was now continuous and was slowly, ever so slowly, increasing in intensity.  She knew it would do this repeatedly, in stages, buzzing for prolonged periods at slowly escalating levels.  It would then pause for several seconds, then buzz again, each time increasing the average intensity and quickening the pace.

Eventually...  she would cum.  Then, there would be a rest period, with her helpless, sweaty, and panting in her Darlex and leather cocoon.  And then, it would all begin again.

Eventually...  Mistress would decide she'd settled her account, her demerits had been expunged, and her "detention" would be over.

Not that it mattered.  Mistress was always finding fault with her behavior—tardiness at meals, failure to properly clean her room, slacking off during her regularly scheduled exercise periods, etc.  Mistress would always find fault.  Even if she was perfect, the woman knew she'd still be charged with demerits and Mistress would sentence her to detention.

The woman squirmed in her tight, inescapable, sweaty encasement, the white noise continued to drone, the pill continued to buzz, and it was horrible—and wonderful!

Kennedy McKidd looked up as she entered the building.  It wasn't the most impressive edifice in the Chicago Loop district, but it was impressive enough.  She crossed the lobby and summoned an elevator.  The upper portion of the stainless steel door was sufficiently polished to serve as a mirror, and she took the opportunity to examine her slightly distorted reflection.

Smart business suit: heels, skirt, blouse, and jacket, stylish and appropriate—Check!

Makeup subdued but nonetheless enhancing her beauty—okay, her cuteness—Check!

Riot of shoulder-length, ginger-red curls under control, or what passed for under control on a good hair day—Check!

Expression of confidence and professional competence—Check!

The car finally arrived, the door opened, and she pressed the button for the thirty-second floor.  Outwardly, Kennedy was a self-assured young professional.  Inwardly... not so much.  She wasn't exactly a wreck, but she was very nervous.  This could be it!  This could be her Big Break!

Ever since graduation from Lewis & Clark University, Kennedy had been struggling to break into the antiquities market.  She'd served a paid internship at a reasonably prestigious auction house, two years of living on Ramen noodles and cheap takeout, two years of chimp work for ungrateful, snooty Specialists and Assistant Directors, two years of networking—and then, she'd taken the plunge and ventured out on her own as a freelance appraiser.

It was rough.  The competition was brutal, with the established firms getting most of the clients.  So far, she was surviving, but it was rough.

And then, out of the blue, she was summoned to meet with one Renee Vidler at the offices of Vidler International.  She'd done her due diligence and researched the company, but other than the usual—the firm's ranking on the Fortune 500, summaries in various business registers, documents on the public record, etc.—she hadn't learned all that much.  Vidler dabbled in a lot of things, like financial services, shipping, and communications, but there wasn't a lot of detail available.  That also applied to the CEO.  She was a mystery.  Kennedy could find virtually nothing about her on the internet.  Her name was on Vidler's quarterly reports, yes, but that was just about it.

So why does she want to see me?  Kennedy wondered.

Kennedy's best friend at Lewis & Clark had been named Vidler, Vivienne Vidler, to be precise, but Viv hadn't been loaded.  They'd shared dorm rooms and a tiny, cheap apartment until graduation, but if Viv came from wealth, she's certainly managed to hide it well.  Kennedy smiled as the elevator ascended.  She hadn't thought about Viv Vidler in a long time and felt guilty that she hadn't tried to stay in touch.  For a while there, they'd been... close.

Kennedy felt a blush color her cheeks, and banished all thoughts of college shenanigans.  She needed to concentrate on the task at hand, on her Big Break.

The door rumbled open and Kennedy found herself in a very posh lobby with a very attractive receptionist. Her appointment was confirmed and Kennedy was led down a maze of hallways to an even more posh corner office.

Kennedy paused with the receptionist in the open doorway.  An attractive, middle-aged woman was seated at a large, Hepplewhite-style desk.  All of the furniture in the office was Hepplewhite, but all were quality reproductions, not genuine antiques.  Of that, Kennedy was sure.  In any case, the decorator had done an excellent job.  The view out the expansive windows was of the neighboring buildings and the lake shore beyond.

The woman—Kennedy assumed she was Renee Vidler—was talking on a smart-phone, but the distance was great and the thick carpet was doing an excellent job of absorbing most of the woman's voice.  She motioned for Kennedy to enter but continued talking.  The receptionist led Kennedy to a conversation area, settled her into a comfortable wing chair, then made a discrete exit.

Almost immediately the woman ended her call, pocketed her phone, strolled towards Kennedy with a friendly smile, and extended her right hand.

Kennedy jumped to her feet.

"I'm glad you could come, Ms. McKidd," the woman said as they shook hands.  "I'm Renee Vidler."  She gestured towards Kennedy's chair as she settled into its adjacent twin.  "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Renee Vidler was not only quite obviously wealthy—her designer business suit was stunning—but she was undeniably beautiful.  Her figure was slender and athletic, her features even, and her eyes blue.  They were, perhaps, a little cold, but Kennedy chalked that up to their unusually pale hue.

"Would you care for anything?" Renee inquired.  "Coffee?  Tea?"

"I'm fine," Kennedy answered.

"So, to business," Renee purred.  "I own an estate in Michigan, near Ontonagon on the Upper Peninsula.  It's been in the family for generations and over the decades has accumulated a large quantity of furniture, knickknacks, and the like.  I believe it's all been inventoried and some is in storage, but I need someone to verify the catalog and do an initial appraisal."

Kennedy nodded.  "If I might ask, do you intend to sell?"

Renee shrugged.  "I may send some of it to auction, to relieve the clutter, but first things first.  I need everything evaluated.  At the very least it will take several days, if not weeks, and I must insist on your complete discretion.  The family has always valued its privacy and I believe some of the items in question are quite valuable and I don't want to taint the market.  Are you free to accept the commission?"

Am I ever!  Kennedy managed to control her reaction.  This was looking more and more like a very good gig.  "Certainly," she responded.  "It sounds like an interesting challenge.  Uh, might I inquire as to how my name came to your attention?"

Renee's ice-blue eyes sparkled and her lips curled in a cheek-dimpling smile.  "Your name was on the short list my staff compiled, but it was Vivienne who insisted I make you the offer."

Kennedy returned Renee's smile.  "Vivienne?"

Renee nodded.  "My niece.  As it will be a live-in position, I sent the list of candidates to Vivienne, and she e-mailed it back with every name but your own crossed off."

This was very good news, but...  "That's a remarkable coincidence," Kennedy noted.

"Indeed," Renee chuckled.  "Between the two of us, I suspect that once Vivienne knew I wanted the estate furnishings appraised, she contacted my staff and made sure you were a candidate."

Now Kennedy was feeling guilty, very sorry she hadn't tried harder to keep in contact with her college chum.  She also felt that pesky blush coloring her cheeks again.

"Remember," Renee continued, "complete discretion.  I don't want anyone to know you're working for me.  I don't even want anyone to know you're at the estate.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Vidler."

"Renee, please," Renee chuckled.  "And may I call you Kennedy?"

"Of course," Kennedy replied.

"Now," Renee said with a broad smile.  "Let's settle on your compensation so my staff can draw up a contract and prepare the nondisclosure agreement."

Kennedy returned the smile and nodded.  This was looking more and more like her Big Break, and she owed it all to Viv!

Kennedy couldn't believe her luck.  Her contract with Vidler International couldn't be more favorable.  Not only was her salary at the high end of the scale for appraisal services, but she was specified as Renee's agent if she decided to sell anything.  This not only sent a cut of the auction fees Kennedy's way, but insured she would get full credit for her work.  If the contents of the estate were half as valuable as the documents and photographs Renee had shown her suggested, this job would not only be a big boost to her bank account, but would greatly enhance her professional reputation.

And the icing on the cake?  Kennedy was given a Vidler International credit card and a rental car for the drive north.  It was a Lexus ES 500 hybrid with all the bells and whistles, including satellite navigation, and Kennedy was very glad it had that option.  The sedan had been delivered by a Vidler employee with her destination already programmed into the system, and while the Chicago to Milwaukee to Green Bay legs of the journey hadn't been much of a challenge, the further she drove into Michigan's Upper Peninsula, the more she found herself on what were best described as country roads, rather than highways.  Towns became smaller and ever farther apart, farmland became isolated fields, and then... it was nothing but trees, trees, and more trees... followed by trees.

The final leg was by far the worst, navigation-wise.  She passed the occasional turnoff, most with chain-link gates, but mainly it was mile after mile of forest with few, if any, state or local road signs to provide guidance.  If not for the directions on the Lexus' touch screen, Kennedy was sure she'd be completely lost.

And then, she was there.

Before her was a tall, motorized gate of steel bars, and to the left, conveniently positioned for an arriving vehicle, was a call-box with a video camera lens, speaker, and keypad.  Kennedy triggered her window, but before it had finished lowering the gate began to rumble open.

"Welcome, Miss McKidd," a tinny, female voice instructed.  "The estate is three miles ahead."

"Uh, thank you," Kennedy answered.  I guess there's a sensor embedded in the road, she reasoned as she closed her window and pulled through the gate.  She watched in the rear-view mirror as the gate closed behind her.  The road ahead wound through more of the ubiquitous trees without branching.  Her only options were continuing on or turning around.

Finally, the trees parted and Kennedy beheld what could only be the estate, and a decidedly eccentric estate it was.  What appeared to be a small castle of at least four stories loomed on the far side of a low, shrub-covered hill and a modest stretch of mowed lawn, and built into the hill was a modern-looking earth-sheltered structure.

Actually, Kennedy had already seen a floor plan of the estate, so the surprise wasn't total.  She already knew that the "Castle" was the original structure.  The extensive earth-sheltered additions were much more recent and had more than doubled the square footage of the estate, but the architect had made no effort to match the style of the expansion to the Castle.  The combined result was... peculiar, in Kennedy's opinion.

She pulled up to an earth-sheltered garage and parked.  As she opened her car door, a side door of the garage opened and Vivienne appeared—that is, a screaming, giggling, female dynamo appeared and threw herself at Kennedy—but Kennedy knew instantly it was Vivienne.

"Ken-doll!" Vivienne squealed as she hugged her friend.  She was wearing sandals, faded jeans, a heather-gray tank-top, and no bra.

"Good to see ya, Viv," Kennedy said as she returned the hug—and it was good to see her college chum.  "Let me look at you," she chuckled and held Vivienne at arms length.  "Still sportin' the pixie, I see."

It was true.  Vivienne's fine, straight, brown hair was cropped short in a decidedly boyish manner.  It had been so for as long as Kennedy had known her, but there was nothing else about the smiling, fair-skinned cutie that was in any way masculine.  Like "Ken-doll" McKidd, "Viv" Vidler might be short, but had a very feminine physique with all the right curves in all the right places.

"And you're still rockin' the ginger curls," Vivienne giggled.  "You look great!"

"Right back at ya," Kennedy chuckled.

A tall, athletic, blond woman emerged from the side door and joined the laughing friends.  Kennedy's best guess was that the newcomer was in her late 30's or early 40's, and she was in very good shape.  She was also quite attractive.  In fact, in Kennedy's opinion, she was gorgeous, in a Norse shield-maiden sort of way.  She was wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a plaid shirt.  It was all designer label country-chic, both functional and stylish.

Kennedy's outfit was similar.  Renee had told her that the estate was customarily casual, no business suits allowed.  Kennedy's jeans and blouse weren't nearly as expensive as the blonde's, but she'd found a Western-style blouse in faded turquoise that complimented her hair and complexion and she looked great—if she did say so herself.

Vivienne made the introductions.  "Kennedy, this is Lena."

"Lena Riemann," the blond said, pumping Kennedy's hand, "cook, housekeeper, estate manager, and Vivienne's personal trainer."

"That's a lot of hats," Kennedy noted.  She also noted Lena's very firm grip.

Lena shifted her smile to Vivienne.  "I have help."

"Speaking of which," Vivienne said, "pop the trunk and let's get you settled in."

"And give me your keys," Lena added.  "I'll park the car while you and Vivienne handle the luggage."

"Okay," Kennedy answered and she pulled the Lexus' remote from her jeans pocket.  She pressed the button for the trunk, then handed the remote to Lena.  "Thanks."

"My pleasure," Lena said as the ginger and brunette pixies pulled Kennedy's two suitcases and laptop bag from the trunk and headed for the side door.

"My pleasure, indeed," Lena muttered under her breath after the door had closed.  A smile an independent observer might have characterized as sinister curled her lips.  She slammed the trunk, then pulled a second remote from her pocket, hit a button, and the garage's vehicle door rumbled open.

Lena parked the Lexus next to the estate's other vehicles, made sure it was locked, then strolled to a steel security cabinet mounted on the wall near the door to the main house.  She entered a code in the lock's cypher-pad, opened the almost vault-like cabinet, and hung the Lexus' remote on an empty hook.  Still smiling, she closed the cabinet, listened as the lock engaged with an authoritative click, then strolled towards the door to the main house.

It was late in the day as Vivienne showed Kennedy to a very comfortable little bedroom in the Castle with an attached bath, so they only had time for a superficial tour of the estate before dinner.  The original structure was, indeed, referred to as "the Castle" by the residents, and the more modern earth-sheltered warren was termed "Down Below" or "the Hobbit Hole."  That said, the Hobbit Hole was hardly a hole.  There was a great room, a formal dining room, an extensive and very modern kitchen, and a home theater.  There was also a small indoor-outdoor lounge area that overlooked a small lake with a stone pier and a swimming float anchored some distance from shore.

Kennedy could now see that the entire estate was situated on more of a hill than she'd at first realized.  The rise on the driveway side had been so gradual as to be almost unnoticeable, but the slope on the lake side was much more pronounced.  In any case, the estate was well above the level of the lake and it would take torrential rains of biblical proportions to flood the place.

The Castle was "authentic," in that it had plastered walls and most of the furnishings were in the Late Medieval through Jacobean styles.  Clearly, most of the pieces were reproductions.  Kennedy's bed was anachronistically Queen-sized, but the four heavy posts, canopy, and drapes were convincingly Medieval.  Nothing in her room was antique, but some of the rooms covered by Vivienne's whirlwind tour held what looked like some very nice pieces.

The Castle and Down Below had one decidedly odd feature in common: all the windows were barred.  That is, all the windows were barred, every one.  Vivienne explained that the Castle's bars were copied from the Spanish castle that had been the original inspiration.  The windows themselves were modern, triple-pane, and well-insulated against the Michigan winters, but the bars were an affectation—fully functional, but an affectation.

The barred windows Down Below were more modern, but were even heavier than those in the Castle.  They were a precaution against bears, Vivienne explained, as was the thick safety glass of the windows themselves.  Racoons were much more of a nuisance than bears, Vivienne reassured her friend, but if precautions weren't taken, the local wildlife had been known to try and force their way inside looking for food.  That was also why all the exterior doors were heavy-duty steel with foam cores and solidly set in steel frames with electronic locks.  Lena set the alarms at night, securing the entire estate, but during the day, most of the doors opened freely.

Dinner wasn't exactly a welcoming feast, but the braised short ribs with roasted beets and carrots was excellent.  Lena was a very good cook.

Lena was also somewhat quiet.  She smiled and listened as Kennedy and Vivienne reminisced about their college days and caught up on each other's affairs, but she didn't add much to the conversation.

Vivienne had always been something of a writer, and Kennedy was pleased to learn she'd already published several short stories and her first novel.  She also painted, and had sold a few canvases through a small gallery in Ontonagon.

Kennedy was a little embarrassed.  Her college roommate and best friend was a published author, and she hadn't noticed.  In her defense, she'd been busy trying to break into the antiquities trade and hadn't had time for recreational reading—or recreational anything, for that matter—but still, she would have sent her a congratulatory letter, at the very least.

Anyway, Vivienne was her same old bubbly self, and soon Kennedy was entirely at ease.  The excellent red wine Lena served with dinner helped, but mostly it was the warm, genuine welcome from her old friend.

After dinner they chatted in the lounge and watched the sun set behind the forest beyond the lake.  Kennedy carefully avoided the topic of Vivienne's family wealth, and why she'd kept it such a secret when they were in school.  She'd have plenty of time to pump Viv for all the juicy details and rib her about it later.  It was obvious that verifying the inventory of the Castle's furnishing would take some time, and according to Viv there were storerooms under Down Below with a lot more furniture.

But all that could wait.  Tomorrow, she'd hit the proverbial deck running and start tackling the estate's records.  Tonight, it had been a long drive and Kennedy could use a good night's sleep.

Vivienne saw Kennedy to her room, wished her goodnight with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then left.

Kennedy smiled as she undressed to her panties, then shrugged into a loose t-shirt.  This was how she usually slept, not wasting money on either pajamas or nighties.  She brushed her teeth in the attached bathroom, pulled back the covers, and climbed between the sheets of the over-sized but otherwise Medieval bed.

There was another topic she hadn't discussed with Vivienne: the night they got smashed on cheap wine their junior year and sucked face until they both fell asleep in a tangle of sheets and naked bodies.  Nothing had come of the episode and it had remained their little secret.  Discussing their inebriated dalliance could also wait... possibly forever.

Anyway, it was good to see Viv again, and tomorrow would be a very busy day.  Kennedy smiled, pulled the sheets and blanket close, closed her eyes... and drifted off to sleep.

Vivienne changed into a favorite, though rarely worn, sleeping costumes: a baby-doll nightie with frilly panties, spaghetti-strap top, and matching dressing gown, all in gauze-thin, pale-blue silk organza.  It was blatantly sexy, but she loved the way it felt against her skin and couldn't wait to see Kennedy's reaction.

Her bedroom was one floor up in the Castle from Kennedy's guestroom,  She eased open her door, then stepped into the hallway and carefully, quietly closed the door behind her.  All the lights were out, as usual, but enough moon and/or starlight was shining through the barred windows to light her way.  She tiptoed on bare feet towards the stairs.  Hand on the rail, she padded down to Kennedy's floor, then tiptoed to her room.  Kennedy's door was just ahead.  She reached for the doorknob and—"Mrrrpfh!"—she was grabbed from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth!

"Quiet, you little tart," an all too familiar voice whispered in Vivienne's right ear.

Vivienne's captor was Lena, of course, and the tall, oh-so-strong blonde was in her preferred sleeping costume: nothing.  Her left arm had Vivienne's arms pinned behind her back with her elbows crushed together, and her right hand was sealing Vivienne's lips.  The pixie-haired brunette squirmed and tried to break Lena's hold, but it was hopeless.

Lena took a step back, taking her captive with her and maintaining the hand-gag, then spun her wiggling prisoner around and marched her back to the stairs.

Vivienne continued struggling and mewling as Lena dragged her up the stairs and down the hall to her room, meaning Lena's room.

"Didn't I tell you to go slow?" Lena hissed as she opened her bedroom door and dragged Vivienne inside.  "Didn't I tell you that I'd decide when you could seduce your little friend?"  The questions were rhetorical, as she never gave Vivienne a chance to answer.  She maintained her hand-gag as she dragged her captive to a cabinet, opened a drawer, pulled out a pair of panties, and stuffed them into Vivienne's mouth.

Truth be told, Vivienne could have mounted a more credible resistance.  Lena couldn't really keep her helpless and quiet and have a hand free to open and close doors and give her an actual gag, but Vivienne knew she dare not resist.  A little squirming and pathetic complaining was allowed, even expected, but not actual resistance.  Soon, a narrowly folded scarf was keeping the panties in Vivienne's mouth and Lena was peeling her out of her sexy sleepwear.  That was another reason to carefully moderate her struggles, so as not to tear the fragile dressing gown, nightie, or panties—meaning the baby-blue panties Vivienne was soon not wearing, as opposed to the white pair of Lena's panties that were stuffed in her mouth.

"I ought to ball-tie you and leave you on the cold floor 'til morning," Lena growled as she used a roll of Ace bandage to bind Vivienne's crossed wrists behind her back, "but the inevitable rope-marks and bruises would probably show, even if you wear long sleeves tomorrow.  So..."  She tossed Vivienne onto her bed, then used a second roll of Ace bandage to bind her crossed ankles.

Vivienne whimpered through her gag.  She had a good idea of what was coming.

Lena sat on the bed, then pulled Vivienne across her naked lap, face down.  "You horny, disobedient little slut," Vivienne purred as she massaged Vivienne's butt-cheeks.  "Are you sorry you disobeyed your Mistress?"

Whack!

Lena had delivered a very businesslike slap to Vivienne's left cheek.

"Mrrrf!"

"Well?" Lena demanded.

Whack!

This time it was Vivienne's right butt-cheek.  "M'mmpfh!"  The captive frantically bobbed her head.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Lena sighed, and the spanking continued.

"Mrrrfh!"  Vivienne wiggled and tugged on her bonds, her eyes brimming with tears as blow after stinging blow landed on her defenseless butt.

Finally, but only after the little pixie's butt-cheeks were flushed a vivid shade of pink, Lena relented.  She rolled Vivienne off her lap and onto the floor, where she landed with a soft thud, then climbed onto her bed and reclined with her head and back resting on the pillows she'd already piled against the headboard.

Vivienne was weeping, of course.  She squirmed onto her side, then managed, rather awkwardly, to ease herself up onto her knees.  Sobbing through her gag, she locked eyes with her smiling Mistress, and waited.  Would Lena make her sleep on the floor—naked, bound, and gagged—or would she let her share the bed?

Lena gazed at the sad, helpless prisoner for several seconds, then patted the mattress.  "Okay, naughty girl," she chuckled.  "I believe you.  You're sorry you're a horny, disobedient little slut."

Vivienne struggled to her crossed, bound feet and flopped onto the bed, then squirmed her way between Mistress' splayed legs and rolled onto her stomach.  She knew her place.

Lena reached down and pulled the cleave-gag from between Vivienne's lips, then plucked the panties from her mouth.  "Do a good job, naughty girl," she purred, "or you will sleep on the floor."

"Yes Mistress," Vivienne sighed, licked her lips, and focused on Lena's carefully groomed, dark-blond pubic patch and the crinkled, pink, glistening folds of her pussy.  She then licked her lips and set to work.