by Van ©2015
		Chapter 6

Kennedy finished her lunch, placed the apple core, empty bottle, and cloth in the bucket, and restored the lid.  Supposedly, according to the truly hilarious comedian Lena, the empty bucket was her toilet.  Kennedy's bladder was a little full, but she could hold it if she had to, and she would not stoop—quite literally—to urinating in a bucket.  Eventually, Vivienne and/or Lena would return, she'd demand to be released, and would use a proper toilet—probably the one in her bedroom—after stomping down the stairs and giving the door a nice, satisfying slam behind her.  And Viv could take her bondage games and Lena her workout schedule and... and...

Kennedy heaved a sad sigh.  Okay, she was mad, but not bridge-burning mad, not with Vivienne.  They'd fought and made up before, back at school.  As for Lena...  That was another matter.  Anyway, Kennedy had a job to finish.  No more games, and no more posing.

Finally, she heard the sound of approaching feet.  Time for her angry confrontation!  Or... time to stare in wide-eyed amazement!

Lena was entering the room.  She was dressed as before in sandals, jeans, and a t-shirt; however, a long chain was in her right hand and attached to the other end of that chain was Vivienne!  Viv was naked, her ankles were locked in steel shackles, and she was wearing a chastity belt and a scolds bridle!  The chain/leash was attached to the collar of the bridle.

Kennedy didn't know what to say.  This was probably just as well because at the moment her throat was paralyzed with shock.  All of her was paralyzed with shock.

Lena led Vivienne to her painting station, then padlocked the end of her tether to an iron ring set in the wall nearby.  It was a very long chain, leaving Vivienne plenty of room to paint, but it didn't look like it was long enough for her to come any closer than a few feet to Kennedy.

Lena then walked over to Kennedy and grabbed her right hand, and the stunned ginger finally found her voice.  "No!"  But the "captive princess" couldn't prevent the smiling blonde from locking her right wrist back in the waiting manacle.  "Lena!  Have you gone crazy?"  She tugged on the manacles and started to rise to her feet.

"None of that," Lena purred, planted a hand on Kennedy's head and forced her back down, then started doing something to the chains linking her collar, belt, and ankle-shackles to the wall.

"Lena!" Kennedy complained, watching as her amazon nemesis deployed a padlock with a long hasp, threaded it through several strategically chosen chain links, and snapped it closed.  Kennedy was in the same arms raised, butt on the floor, back against the wall, and legs folded to the side pose she'd been in for most of the morning, but now it was permanent!  She tugged on her chains, again, and squirmed in place.  "Look, enough is enough!  Let me go or—M'mpfh!  Lena had her in a tight hand-gag.

"Quiet, Princess," Lena purred.  "The cloth I wrapped your lunch in, which I assume is in your honey-bucket, will make a nice gag if you insist of being rude.  You agreed to pose for Miss Vidler, so pose you shall.  Scream all you like after I leave.  I won't hear you.  But for now, you'll keep quiet.  Understand?"

Eyes wide above Lena's hand, Kennedy nodded as best she could.

"Good Princess," Lena chuckled, released her hand gag, and picked up the bucket.  She then strolled to the door and made her exit, pulling the heavy portal closed behind her.

Kennedy stared in disbelief.  There was no doorknob or latch on this side of the door, as she'd noted earlier, and the viewing hatch, behind its grid of iron bars, remained closed.  She shifted her gaze to Vivienne.

Her friend's shackles were similar to her own, but were polished steel, rather than presenting a hand-forged appearance.  The chastity belt was similar and was your basic steel thong design, but at this distance and with Vivienne now perched on her stool, Kennedy was unable to make out any more detail.  The scold's bridle was also polished and gleaming and looked to be close-fitting, with a horizontal forehead band, a rigid chin strap, a wide collar, and a gag-panel of some sort.  Kennedy knew that historical scold's bridles often came with mouth-intruding flanges that held down the wearer's tongue, and some were quite nasty, with spikes, but she had no idea whether or not Vivienne's bridle was so equipped.

"Vivienne Vidler," Kennedy muttered in a near whisper, "what the hell have you gotten me into?"

Vivienne sighed through her gag, gave an apologetic shrug, then unwrapped her brushes, renewed her palette with dabs of fresh paint, and began to paint.

Kennedy continued staring, at a loss for words.  She didn't know exactly what reaction she'd expected.  Viv certainly wasn't in a position to verbally apologize and provide the details of Lena's apparent history of mental illness, but still...

Kennedy tugged on her bonds, again.  "That better be a damn good painting," she huffed.  She squirmed in place, ignoring her semi-full bladder.  Too late now, she thought.

Two more hours passed.

Vivienne continued to paint and Kennedy to languish.

Kennedy was giving her alleged friend, fellow naked prisoner, and portrait artist the cold shoulder, but she'd decided not to scream and yell and throw a full-blown, category-five tizzy-fit.  Maybe later.  Besides, verbal dressing downs aren't nearly as satisfying when they're entirely one-sided.  The Irish princess-in-chains—Kennedy had decided to go with Irish—sent the occasional visual dagger speeding in the direction of the busily working naked painter, but that was it.  She'd read Viv the riot act later, after Lena let them go and things were at a new normal.  But for now... it was the cold shoulder... and the silent treatment.

To Kennedy, Vivienne seemed repentant and sad, but even as well as she knew her friend, it was difficult to be sure.  The scold's bridle covered a lot of Viv's face.  Anyway, her body language signaled that she was repentant and sad, or maybe chastened and sombre.  Whatever.

Finally, late in the afternoon—and very overdue, in Kennedy's languishing opinion—Lena opened the door and strolled into the chamber.

Kennedy's blue eyes focused like lasers on the smiling blonde and she unleashed her mighty wrath!  "Now, look here, you—"

"Quiet!" Lena barked, interrupting Kennedy's tirade.

Kennedy flinched in surprise.  She hadn't even wound up to full volume before Lena shut her down.  How rude!

"You're done for the day," Lena said to Vivienne, then continued towards Kennedy.

"Don't tell me to be quiet!" Kennedy shouted.  "Unlock these chains and—"  Her eyes popped wide.  Lena had pulled what she believed was called a ball-gag from her hip pocket!  "No!  Don't you dare—Mrrrpfh!"  The ball was in Kennedy's mouth and Lena was buckling the strap under her ginger curls!  Then—click!—Lena snapped a small padlock through the buckle's hasp for security!  "Nrrrrr!"  Kennedy tossed her head and screamed through the rubber sphere plugging her mouth.  She could feel the padlock swing back and forth at the nape of her neck.

Meanwhile, Lena was unlocking Kennedy's chains—all of her chains.  She left the manacles for last, and when the lock turned and the final steel cuff swung open, Kennedy released her inner wildcat and came out swinging!  Unfortunately, against Lena, Kennedy's inner wildcat was something of a gangly kitten.

Lena grabbed Kennedy's wrists before she could land one blow, forcibly turned her around before she could land one kick, and proceeded to bind the struggling, mewling, naked ginger's crossed wrists behind her back with a length of stout cord.

"Mrrrpfh!"  Kennedy continued struggling and complaining as Lena hoisted her onto her shoulder in a fireman's carry.  Stomach down, head to the rear, and flutter-kicking feet to the front, Kennedy continued struggling.

"Settle down," Lena chuckled as she gave Kennedy's bare butt a businesslike slap.

Kennedy was still squirming, kicking, and mewling as Lena carried her out the door.

Vivienne watched them go, heaved a gagged sigh, and resumed cleaning her brushes.

Naked, hands tied behind her back, slung over Lena's shoulder, squirming and angry, Kennedy was carried into her guest bedroom and tossed on the bed.  "Mrrrmpfh!"  She felt Lena fumbling with her wrist bonds, then sat up and watched the blonde amazon exit the bedroom, closing the door behind her.  Kennedy tugged on the cord, found ever-increasing slack, and finally pulled her hands free.  She rushed to the door and tried the knob.  Locked!  She stamped her bare feet in frustration.  "Mrrrrf!"

Kennedy had limited options, two of which occurred to her immediately.  Option one: pound on the locked door in naked, gagged impotence.  Option two: relieve herself.  Her bladder made a compelling and well-reasoned argument for the second option, while the door seemed indifferent.  She padded into the bathroom.

After finishing her business, Kennedy noticed that her toothbrush was gone, as were her tube of toothpaste, her brush and comb, the rest of her toiletries kit, the kit itself, the towels and washcloths, and every other loose object in the bathroom, even the drinking cup.  She hurried into the main bedroom and realized it had also been stripped down to the furniture and bed linens.  Her laptop, iPad, and written notes were still on the desk, but everything else, including her iPhone and purse, were gone.  A check of the closet revealed that her clothes and luggage were also missing.

Lena's had a busy afternoon, Kennedy surmised.  She returned to the bathroom and splashed her face—her ball-gagged face—with water, then stared at her reflection in the mirror.  The rubber ball and leather strap were both black, and the hardware was chromed steel.  She couldn't get more than a glimpse of part of the padlock when she turned her head, but it appeared to be brass.  The ball was a hollow sphere pierced by about a dozen regularly spaced holes.  She realized that while the holes reduced the gag's efficiency as a noise suppressor, they allowed her to breathe through her mouth.  They also allowed her to turn on the faucet, cup her hands, and awkwardly drink.  The gag-strap was tight enough to make her freckled cheeks bulge, slightly.  She stared into her own angry blue eyes... then heaved a sigh.  Best to save it for Lena, she decided.

Kennedy stomped back into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.  Reason dictated she should control her temper, but she was angry!

How dare she treat me like this!  She was thinking about Lena, of course.  She remembered Viv in the scolds bridle, chastity belt, and leg irons.  She couldn't blame Viv for this nonsense.  But wait...  Lena had chosen today to go bonkers and kidnap Vivienne and herself?  All the bondage games had suddenly come to a head today?  And Viv had nothing to do with it?

Kennedy heaved a gagged sigh, again.  She needed to have a pointed, detailed, focused talk with her college chum.  Unfortunately, locked in her bedroom—gagged—she had no idea when that was likely to happen.

She decided to take a nap.  It was either that or stare up at the underside of the canopy, grind her teeth against the rubber ball strapped in her mouth, and develop an ulcer.

"Mrrrpfh?"

Kennedy snapped awake to find that Lena had returned.  In fact, Lena was on the bed, pinning her down with her weight, and was tying her wrists behind her back with more of the stout cord she'd used before.  This time, Kennedy's hands were palm-to-palm instead of being crossed.  Kennedy squirmed and struggled and mewled through her gag, but she could tell her resistance was no more than a nuisance to Lena, and from her expression, might even be entertaining.  Kennedy turned her head and beheld more cord in a heap on the mattress, all of it in neat bundles.  Lena had finished binding her wrists and was reaching for a fresh bundle.

Kennedy continued struggling, with the same non-result.  Now, Lena was binding her upper arms.  At least a dozen doubled loops of cord tightened just above her elbows.  They weren't touching, as two or three inches of wrapped cord was being cinched in between, but the arrangement pulled back her shoulders.  More cord followed, a lot more cord, with Lena shifting position and lifting and rolling Kennedy's increasingly more helpless body as required.

Kennedy continued to resist, but eventually the process was complete.  Lena climbed off her body and the bed, crossed her arms under her breasts, and smiled down at her wiggling, mewling prisoner.

"Five millimeter braided nylon para-cord in moss green," Lena purred.  "I chose a color that complements your carrot-top complexion."

Kennedy wiggled and squirmed.  Tight, multi-strand bands of the cord in question pinned her upper arms to her torso, passing above and below her breasts and yoking her shoulders.  Another band pinned her forearms against her lower back and encircled her waist.  Multiple cords linked her wrist bonds to her waist bonds, pinning her hands against her buttocks and bisecting her crotch and ginger pubic bush.  Yet more bands bound her legs together, passing around her thighs, above and below her knees, around her shins and calves, and finally, binding her ankles together.  The piece de resistance was a short length of cord Lena had used to tie Kennedy's big toes together.

All of the bindings were redundant, in that all were comprised of a great many strands of cord.  Also, all were well-cinched and secured with tight, unreachable knots.  The cords dimpled Kennedy's flesh without being tight enough to cause damage—or not immediate damage, as far as Kennedy could tell.  Neither her hands nor any other part of her anatomy tingled from loss of circulation.

Kennedy rolled onto her side and glared at her captor.

"I guess it's true what they say about redheads and their tempers," Lena chuckled.  She then pulled a roll of the same wide, milky white Elastoplast tape she'd used before from her hip pocket, together with a pair of bandage scissors.

Kennedy watched as Lena stripped a seven-inch length of tape from the roll, snipped it free, then returned the roll and scissors to her pocket.  She squirmed and tried to roll away as Lena leaned close, but the diabolically smiling blonde defeated her efforts by climbing back onto the bed and atop her body, pinning her on her back.  She tossed her head and complained—"Mrrrf!"—but Lena succeeded in plastering the tape over her ball-gagged mouth without much difficulty.

Kennedy locked eyes with her grinning captor as Lena used her strong, tan fingers to smooth the tape and insure maximum adherence of the adhesive.  No more breathing through my mouth, she fumed.

"There, a nice, tight, double gag," Lena purred, using her fingers to comb strands of Kennedy's ginger curls from her gagged, glowering face.  "Any gag at all is totally unnecessary, of course," she continued, "but you look so very pretty trussed up and thoroughly silenced."

Kennedy's eyes widened and she squirmed under her captor's weight.  Lena hands were now cupping her breasts!

"Such pretty little boobies," Lena sighed, "and made all the more attractive by the freckles that have begun to appear.  I think skinny-dipping in the lake and nude sunbathing will continue as long as the weather allows... until you're dappled from head to toe... as if you've never worn clothes in your entire life."

Kennedy shivered and complained—"Nrrrm!"—as Lena began kneading her breasts and teasing her nipples.  Angry tears glistened in her blue eyes and wet her bulging cheeks as she kicked her bound legs.

"Well, enough indulgence," Lena purred, climbed off Kennedy and the bed, then hoisted the captive back onto her shoulder in another fireman's carry.  She exited the bedroom with her burden, closing the door behind them, and headed for the stairs.  Kennedy wiggled and complained, as before, but to say that flutter-kicking was now impossible would be an epic understatement.

Lena carried the thoroughly bound Kennedy into the kitchen and set her down in a straight-back wooden chair, next to an also thoroughly bound Vivienne.  The brunette pixie was still wearing the steel scold's bridle, but her leg irons and chastity belt were gone and their gleaming steel semi-encumbrance had been replaced by the total helplessness of countless strands of cadet-blue cord.  But for their color, Viv's bonds was more-or-less identical to Kennedy's, and were just as elaborate and tight.  It was obvious that Viv was completely helpless.

Kennedy gazed at Vivienne and Vivienne gazed back.  Viv's blue eyes were wide with fear, as far as Kennedy could tell, and Kennedy found her rage tempered by concern for her naked, cord bound, and scold's bridle-gagged friend.  Both prisoners swiveled their silenced heads towards Lena, and Kennedy's anger returned.

"M'mrf m'mmf nrm m'mpfh!"

"I'm sorry," Lena chuckled, "but I have absolutely no idea what you're trying to say.  Anyway..."  She lifted Kennedy's chin and smiled into her glowering, gagged face.  "I left the key to Miss Vidler's bridle somewhere, but at the moment, I can't remember exactly where.  I'm almost positive it's on this floor and in plain sight, so be a dear and fetch it for me, would you please, Miss McKidd?"

Kennedy squirmed in her bonds and continued her angry stare.

"Poor Miss Vidler can't eat dinner until I remove her bridle," Lena purred, "and I can't do that without the key, now can I?  So, the choice is yours.  The pair of you can sit here 'til morning, or you can go find the key.  Your choice."  Still smiling, she clapped her hands.  "Hop, hop!"

Kennedy glowered at Lena—then at Vivienne—then Lena.  Seconds passed...  But finally, Kennedy heaved a sigh of pure loathing and disgust, struggled to her feet, and hopped from the kitchen.

Kennedy made her way from room to room, hopping on her bare, toe-bound feet... slowly... her tits flopping with every hop.  It was humiliating, to say the least.

Surprisingly, Kennedy's toes weren't complaining.  Hop.  Not yet.  Hop.  Not much.  Hop.  As for the rest of her bonds...  Hop.  She'd survive.  Hop.  But it wasn't fun.  Hop.

As Kennedy took her kangaroo act from empty room to empty room, she noticed the same sudden absence of small items she'd seen in her guest bedroom.  The coasters were missing from the lake-front lounge.  The remote control was gone from the home theater.  Upon reflection, she realized there never had been a large number of knickknacks and gewgaws cluttering the rooms of either The Castle or Down Below.  All the bookcases were enclosed cabinets, and now that she noticed, lockable enclosed cabinets.  In any case, there was no available collection of blunt objects suitable for bludgeoning gloating blondes on their gloating blond heads, nor where there bladed tools suitable for severing the cord bonds of innocent, righteously outraged, red-haired captives.

With increasing frustration and fatigue, Kennedy bounced from room to room.  This travesty of a search was taking entirely too long.  She didn't know exactly how much time had elapsed, but it was several minutes, going on fifteen or twenty.  Progress was slow.

Finally, she noticed a small brass key sitting on a small table in a hallway near one of Down Below's side doors.  The door in question led out onto the lawn between the lake and the garage.  It was locked, of course—confirmed by the tiny red LED glowing on the cypher-lock panel next to the doorknob—but Kennedy had no intention of fleeing the estate and hopping to the nearest town.  She realized she didn't even know the direction of the nearest town, nor did she know how far she'd have to hop.  Anyway...

Kennedy hopped over to the table, leaned to the side, took the key in her bound hands, hopped in a circle, and made a bouncing beeline for Vivienne and the evil Lena.  By this time, Kennedy's toes were definitely complaining and her pace had slowed accordingly.  With hop after deliberate hop she made her way back to the kitchen.  Finally, panting through flaring nostrils and her breasts heaving, when they weren't flopping after each hop, she crossed the threshold—and stared in surprise.

Vivienne's chair was empty, in that there was no Vivienne; however, the chair and its immediate surroundings were festooned with a tangled clutter of blue cord.  Kennedy assumed it was the same cord that had bound her naked friend when she left on her search.  Lena was also gone.  The kitchen was empty.

Suddenly—"Mrrrrf!"—Kennedy's bound body was seized from behind!  It was Lena, of course.  The blonde's left arm was around Kennedy's body with her left hand cupping her right breast.  Lena's right hand plucked the key from her bound hands.

"Took you long enough," Lena chuckled.

The initial shock of being grabbed had given way to Kennedy's continuing anger.  She growled through her gag and squirmed in Lena's grip.  "Mrrrmpfh!"

"I see you found it," Lena said, holding the key where they could both admire its gleaming brass shape.  "That means Miss Vidler gets to eat tonight.  C'mon."

"Mrrrf?"  Lena hoisted Kennedy back into her shoulder.  "Nrrrm!"  Tummy down, gagged head to the rear, and thoroughly bound feet to the front, Kennedy suffered the indignity of her third bound and gagged fireman's carry of the afternoon.  Her view was limited to her own fluttering ginger curls, Lena's cotton- and denim-clad back and rump, and glimpses of the floor, but she could see enough to tell she was being carried through Down Under and up the Castle stairs.  Lena paused to unlock and open a door on the third floor, then carried her squirming, mewling burden across the threshold, into the room beyond, then tossed her onto a neatly made bed.

Kennedy continued squirming and complaining, then held her head still.  Lena was unlocking the padlock securing her ball-gag.  Task complete, Lena left the bed and Kennedy rolled, wiggled, and managed to sit up on the semi-soft mattress.  She shook her tousled hair from her face and realized she was in Vivienne's bedroom.  She focused on the center of the room, and her blue eyes widened above her ball- and tape-gag.

Vivienne was still nude, but other than the scold's bridle, was unbound.  She was kneeling on the carpet with her hands on top of her head and her fingers interlaced and resting atop the gleaming steel head-cage.  Lena was behind her and was in the act of unlocking the padlock securing the bridle.

"Remember," Lena said as she folded open the bridle's hinged flanges and carefully eased the hateful object from around Vivienne's head, "Miss McKidd's wrists are to remain bound.  If I return in the morning and find her running free, you'll both be punished."

"Yes, Mistress," Vivienne croaked.  The panel-gag section of the scold's bridle did have a mouth intruder, but rather than a steel tongue suppressor (with or without spikes), it was a rubber plug.  Vivienne licked her lips and swallowed as Lena strolled towards the bedroom door, the scold's bridle tucked under her left arm.

Lena paused at the threshold.  "Behave yourselves," she intoned, waving a warning finger.  "No screaming or pounding on the door, or you'll both spend a week chained in separate cells in the basement, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," Vivienne repeated.  Her submissive pose was unchanged.

Kennedy continued staring daggers at Lena, but the evilly smiling blonde was impervious to her visual attack.

Lena pulled the bedroom door closed, they heard a key turn in the lock, and then... silence.

Finally, Vivienne scrambled to her feet and hurried to the bed.  "Oh, Ken-doll," she sighed, then held up her right index finger.  "Hold that thought."

Kennedy watched as Vivienne poured what appeared to be rosé wine from a carafe into a stemmed glass, then took a sip.  The carafe and glass were on a tray on the bedside table, together with a plate of club sandwiches: bacon, sliced turkey or chicken, lettuce, sliced tomato, beansprouts, and possibly avocado, on white toast, end-cut and neatly stacked in triangular halves.  Kennedy's stomach grumbled, but she ignored it.

"I hate that thing," Vivienne said as she set down the glass on the tray.  "The scold's bridle," she added for clarification, then climbed onto the bed, piled the pillows against the headboard, reclined against the soft mass, then pulled Kennedy's bound and gagged body onto her lap.  She slowly, carefully peeled the tape from her helpless friend's lower face, revealing her ball-gagged mouth, then turned Kennedy's head to the side, parted her ginger curls, and began unbuckling the strap.  She then eased the ball from Kennedy's mouth and tossed the gag away.

Kennedy licked her lips and worked her jaw, much as Viv had done when the bridle was removed.  She watched as Vivienne leaned to the side, picked up the glass from the tray, then held it to her lips so she could drink.  It was rosé, as she'd suspected, and was delicious, especially as a gag chaser.

"That didn't go exactly as I'd hoped," Vivienne sighed.

Kennedy stared at her friend in surprise.  "What?"

"Lena went way too far and was way too mean," Vivienne said.  "And after she punished me for going too fast, for trying to seduce you."

Kennedy was... confused.  "Wait.  What?  I mean... seduce me?"

Vivienne nodded as she returned the glass to the tray, then lifted the carafe.  "Mistress can be very cruel," she added as rosé splashed into the glass.

"Viv," Kennedy said in a near whisper.  "What the hell?"

Vivienne lifted a sandwich half from the plate.  "I guess I better explain while we eat," she sighed.

Kennedy stared at her friend's somewhat abashed face... then the sandwich in her hand.  Her stomach growled, again.  "No, ya think?" she drawled, then leaned forward and took a bite.

The sandwich was delicious.  The bacon was thick-sliced and peppered, the sliced white meat was smoked turkey, and it did include avocado, as well as lots of mayo.  Her eyes focused on Vivienne, Kennedy chewed and listened.

"It all started after graduation," Vivienne said.  "As it turns out, Auntie Renee had plans for my future."