by Van ©2015
		Chapter 11

Lena marched Kennedy to the kitchen, then untied the neck rope and tossed it on a side counter.  She then sat her wayward prisoner in a chair and removed her Hobbit Slippers.

Kennedy had seen no sign of Vivienne, either in the Down Under rooms they'd passed through or now, in the kitchen.  She sat in the chair and tried not to think about the Whipping Chamber two levels below, with its many whips, crops, canes, paddles, and floggers.  Then, her eyes popped wide as Lena returned from a cabinet with a ball-gag and a hood of black cloth.  The gag's mouth-plugging sphere was black, hollow, and pierced by numerous breathing holes and the hood had a drawstring.  Kennedy had worn both before, either the very same gag and hood or their twins.

"If you know what's good for you..."  Lena sighed and shook her head before continuing.  "Strike that.  Obviously you don't know what's good for you."  She untied Kennedy's cleave-gag and plucked the wadded cloth from her mouth.

"Lena!" Kennedy croaked.  Her mouth was dry.  "I mean Mistress, I—m'mmpfh."  The ball-gag was in her mouth and was being buckled under her hair at the nape of her neck.  Then—"Urrrk!"—the hood slipped over her head and the drawstring tightened around her neck.  Gagged (or re-gagged) and blind as the proverbial bat thanks to the hood, Kennedy squirmed in her chair and tugged on her bonds.

Then—"Mrrrf?"—Kennedy was heaved onto Lena's shoulder in yet another fireman's carry and carried away.  Kennedy didn't kick or squirm.  There was no point and she was already in the dog house, so to speak.  She also didn't bother trying to keep track of where Lena was taking her.  She did note that it was generally down, and that two sets of stairs were involved, but she didn't try matching Lena's steps to her mental floor plan of Castle Vidler.  That would also be pointless.  Mistress was in charge and they were going wherever she wanted.

There was a pause while Lena unlocked and opened a door, then carried Kennedy across the threshold and deposited her on a cool, hard surface.  The captive surmised she was on a table of some sort, possibly made of metal, and Lena was locking some sort of metal clamp around her right ankle.  It was wide, thick, heavy, and solidly fixed to the table.  Her left ankle was seized, pulled about two feet to the side, and locked in a second clamp.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Gingerella," Lena sighed as she lifted Kennedy to a sitting position and began untying her rope bonds.

Kennedy was surprised to feel pangs of guilt.  The rope slithered against her skin and slapped the table as her bonds loosened their hold and melted away.  Wait a minute, she thought.  What the hell have I got to feel guilty about?  Every damsel in distress has the right to escape!  "Mrrrf!" Kennedy growled, then gasped through her gag and hood—"Urrk!"—as Lena forced her back down on the table, pulled her right arm above her head, and locked her wrist in another clamp.  Her left wrist followed, and now Kennedy was spreadeagled on her back.  A few feet of rope were still looped and hitched around her torso, but not for long.  Lena's hands tugged and pulled and the remaining rope slithered away.

There was a pause.  Kennedy tugged on her wrist and ankle bonds.  Her hands and feet were each about two feet apart, and the clamps or fetters or whatever-the-hell the things might be called were close-fitting, smooth, well-rounded at the edges, and very solidly fixed to the table, almost as if they were parts of the table rather than attachments.

Then, Kennedy heard a clicking sound.  At the same time—"Mrrk?—the ankle and wrist cuffs began slowly creeping apart, stretching Kennedy's spreadeagled body even further!  Fortunately, this only happened for a few seconds, but it was long enough to make Kennedy very glad the clamps were close-fitting, smooth, well-rounded, and perfectly matched the anatomy they imprisoned.  She could tell her tummy was taut and her breasts flattened.  She could feel it.  It wasn't like she was stretched on a torture rack, but—

Kennedy's blood ran cold.  Maybe she was on a torture rack!  Maybe Lena was going to continue turning the wheel or spinning the dial or doing whatever-the-hell she was doing that made the clamps move apart until...  "Nrrrrr!"  It was a wail of despair, mitigated by Kennedy's ball-gag and hood.

And then, the hood's drawstring loosened and the hood was jerked from Kennedy's head.

Kennedy blinked in the sudden light and looked around.  It was another stone chamber, probably another sub-basement dungeon of the original Castle.  A stainless steel cabinet and a deep sink were against one wall, and above the sink was a rubber hose with an attached spray nozzle suspended from a stainless steel cable wound around a spring-loaded drum attached to the ceiling, similar to the dish-washing setups sometimes found in restaurants.

Kennedy focused on her wrist bonds.  The clamps were stainless-steel, as was the table.  She could see narrow, vertical slots in the table, running under the clamps, and she surmised there was some mechanism underneath that allowed their positions to be adjusted.  Okay, Kennedy realized, obviously there was a mechanism under the table.  Lena had already made adjustments.

Meanwhile, Lena had turned on the faucet at the sink and water was streaming from the spray-nozzle.  She flicked a lever on the side of the nozzle and the water stopped.

Kennedy's eyes widened, again.  Lena was stepping towards the table, bringing the hose and nozzle with her.  The cable whined as it played out.  "Nrrrf!"  Kennedy shook her head, but could do nothing to stop Mistress from triggering the nozzle.  Kennedy wiggled and squirmed, to the extent allowed by her bonds, and mewled in distress.  Cold water stung her skin as Lena played the stream up and down her stretched body!  "M'mmmpfh!"

The stream stopped and Kennedy lifted her dripping head, blinked the water from her eyes and watched Lena return to the sink, lift a steel bucket from the floor, place it under the faucet, and fill it with water.  She then went to the steel cabinet and returned to the sink with a large brush with a two-foot handle and a plastic bottle.  She popped the cap on the bottle and squirted a generous dollop of some sort of thick fluid into the bucket, then used the brush to give it a stir.  She then returned the bottle to the cabinet and carried the sloshing bucket to the table.

Kennedy detected a slightly floral aroma, then shrieked through her gag, again—"Mrrrf!—as Lena used the soapy brush to scrub her wet, wiggling body.  The sudsy water was cold, but the bubbles didn't sting her eyes and the bristles were soft.  The brush was the sort of thing you'd use on your car, to scrub off the road dirt without scratching the paint.  Kennedy shivered and stared daggers at Lena as the bristles caressed every square inch of her stretched, helpless body not in direct contact with the table.  She closed her eyes when Lena scrubbed her face, of course, but glowered at Mistress when the brush was elsewhere.  The pleasantly scented soap was "tear-free," but tasted yucky.  Kennedy's gag didn't allow her to close her mouth and keep the suds out.

Lena returned the bucket and brush to the sink, pulled over the nozzle and hose, again, and began rinsing the suds from Kennedy's helpless body.

"Mrrrpfh!" Kennedy shivered and squirmed as the cold water played across her skin, splashing her crotch, armpits, gagged face, and hair.  Lena walked completely around the table, directing the stream to where Kennedy's spreadeagled body met the table and evicting the last of the suds.

Kennedy assumed there was a drain in the floor.  She just wished there was a flash-heater for the water line, but there wasn't.  She continued shivering as Lena returned the nozzle and hose to the sink, turned off the faucet, and purged the water from the hose.  She then locked eyes with Mistress as Lena returned to the foot of the table, smiling her evil smile.

"Look at all those pretty goosebumps," Lena purred, then focused on Kennedy's feet.  "Hmm...  Not as clean as they should be.  I need to fetch a specialized tool."  She then turned and strolled to the door. 

Kennedy stared at Lena's disappearing back, then the closing door, and was alone... cold, wet, shivering, and alone.

Seconds ticked by and became a minute... then minutes, plural.

The goosebumps faded and Kennedy stopped shivering.  The air in the... Bathing Chamber?  Kennedy decided to go with "Bathing Chamber."  Anyway, the air was humid and hot.  Spreadeagled on the table, she was in an excellent position to survey the many small spotlights of the track lighting system mounted to the ceiling, and among them were heat lamps glowing with an amber-orange light.  At least, she assumed they were heat lamps.

So... I won't freeze to death, she thought, sighing through her gag.  Another minute passed.  I just hope I don't broil.

Finally, Lena returned, and she wasn't alone.  Balanced on her right shoulder, stomach down, was a figure completely covered in black leather.  It was the same way Kennedy had entered the chamber, but without the leather, of course.

Vivienne—Kennedy assumed it was Vivienne—was trapped in a skintight leather sheath that encased her body from neck to toe.  Legs together and arms at her sides, the sheath alone looked like it was inescapable, but its grip was reinforced by broad leather straps encircling Viv's form at the ankles, above and below her knees, her thighs, her waist and lower arms, her upper arms and torso above and below her breasts, and around her neck.  Lena slid the figure off her shoulder and turned her around—confirming that it was Vivienne in the process—and positioned her at the foot of the table.

Vivienne's mouth was propped open by a ring-gag, a steel torus with a leather strap that buckled at the nape of her neck.  She locked eyes with Kennedy and the prisoners heaved simultaneous sighs of mutual commiseration and despair.

Meanwhile Lena had carried a folding stool to the table and placed it behind Vivienne, then "encouraged" the leather-clad captive to take a seat.  She then lifted Vivienne and the stool and slid both forward until Vivienne's ring-gagged mouth was inches from Kennedy's imprisoned feet.

Kennedy continued staring at Viv's sad, blue eyes.  The suit's collar was wide and thick, more a posture collar than a strap.  What Kennedy could now see of the rest of the suit was, indeed, skintight, tight enough that she assumed the "garment" was custom made.  There were no folds or creases in the leather.  The straps ran through small loops sewn into the sheath, and tiny padlocks dangled from the tongues of the visible buckles.

"I want those cute little freckled toes squeaky clean, Snow White," Lena said, "and the same goes for Gingerella's soles.  Get busy, or I'll put you back in your sarcophagus and spend the rest of the day introducing Gingerella to the wonderful world of shock-wands and Wartenberg wheels."

Kennedy had no idea what a "Wartenberg wheel" might be, but she was sure it wasn't something nice.  In any case, she knew what was coming.  A shiver of dread rippled through her pinioned body and she involuntarily wiggled her toes.  The clamps didn't allow her feet much in the way of motion.

Viv heaved another sigh, then leaned close to Kennedy's right foot, stuck her tongue through the ring, and began licking the spreadeagled captive's toes!

"Mrrrpfh!"  Kennedy squirmed and tugged on her steel bonds.  She could do nothing to escape Vivienne's wiggling tongue.

"Enthusiasm," Lena purred, and Vivienne redoubled her efforts, bobbing her head as she slathered Kennedy's toes and slid them them in and out of her ring-gagged mouth.

It tickles!  Kennedy giggled through her gag and continued trying to squirm.  It's gross!

"That's it," Lena chuckled.  "Just like that, Snow White."  She strolled to the side of the table, reached out with her right hand, and took Kennedy's right nipple between her thumb and forefinger.  The breast was significantly flattened by her stretched condition, but both of Kennedy's nipples were erect and pointing.  "Have you ever worn nipple-clamps, Gingerella?" Lena inquired.

Kennedy's only answer was to continue squirming and giggling through her gag.

Vivienne continued licking, slobbering, and sucking on Kennedy's toes, with the mandated enthusiasm.

"I'll take that as a no," Lena purred, then gave Kennedy's nipple a gentle tug.  "There are many shocking gaps in your education, Gingerella," she said, smiling her evil smile.  "That may be why you're such a bad slave-girl."  She shifted her gaze to Vivienne.  "Keep that up for a while, then start licking the sole.  This is going to require at least two complete tongue-baths for each foot.  If you're diligent, it should take no longer than an hour, perhaps an hour and a half."

"Nrrrrr!"  Kennedy shivered and tugged on her rigid bonds.  It tickles!

Lena tugged on Kennedy's nipple, again.  "And then, we'll see about finding you some nice clamps to play with, Gingerella."

The Great Slobbering Ordeal actually took a little less than a full hour, but for Kennedy, it was a very long almost hour.  The initial tongue-lashing on each foot had tickled, but the titillating sensations were low key and were overtaken by the disgust factor.  Eventually, Kennedy even found the strength to stop wiggling and tugging on her bonds.  She lay still and stared a few daggers at Mistress, but despite her best efforts couldn't suppress the occasional shivers that rippled through her body now and then.  As for poor Vivienne, Kennedy was surprised her tongue didn't cramp at some point.  The leather encased captive's licking tool had to be tired, of that Kennedy was sure.

Finally, Lena announced her satisfaction with the saliva glistening state of Kennedy's feet, lifted Vivienne onto her shoulder, and carried her from the chamber.

Kennedy watched the door close, then heaved a sigh.  The heat lamps were still shining down from overhead, interspersed with the many regular spotlights illuminating her stretched body, and her entire form was now shining with a patina of sweat.  Part of that may have been a consequence of her earlier wiggling and squirming, but most of it was in reaction to the lamps.

A few minutes passed, then Lena returned.  Kennedy watched her stroll to the steel cabinet, open the doors, then carry some sort of stainless steel apparatus to the table.  It was a pair of rods in the shape of a "T" with a snap-hook at each of the three ends and a swivel-joint where the rods met.

Still not saying a word, Lena redeployed the step stool near the head of the table, stood on the stool, inverted the apparatus, and snapped the now topmost clip through a ring set in the ceiling.  It was now an upside down "T" dangling about three feet above Kennedy's gagged face.  Lena then stepped to the cabinet and returned with a cylindrical, stainless steel weight about six inches long and two in diameter, and a plastic bag full of some sort of blue-green liquid with a length of thin, clear, vinyl tubing attached.  The bag looked medical, the kind used to deliver fluid to a patient with an IV.  This was confirmed by a small, clear plastic cylinder and a pinch-clamp where the bag met the tubing.

Kennedy watched as Lena reached up and hung the weight from one end of the upside down "T" and the inverted bag from the other.  Yep, Kennedy thought, it's an IV bag.  Another plastic clip of some sort was at the far end of the tubing, but Kennedy never got a good look at it as Lena slid part of the second clip through one of the openings in her ball-gag, released the clip, and somehow the thing gripped the ball.  Kennedy surmised it had anchored itself through a couple of the ball's other holes.  Anyway, the result was a direct link between the IV bag to the ball-gag, via the clear vinyl tubing.

Lena gave the horizontal section of the "T" a tap with one finger, and Kennedy watched as the IV and weight alternately swung up and down, like a playground teeter-totter.  "Perfect balance," Lena purred, the first words she'd spoken since her return to the chamber.  She then reached into her hip pocket and dangled something metallic and shiny before Kennedy for inspection.

Kennedy's eyes popped wide in horror.  Attached to either end of a thin steel chain was a pair of small clamps!  "Mrrrk?"

"I believe you were asking about nipple-clamps?" Lena purred.

"Nrrr!  Nu-uh!"  Kennedy frantically shook her head.  How can I have asked about anything? I'm gagged!

"These are very clever," Lena said, gazing at the gleaming steel devices, "a variety of what are called 'Clover Clamps,' only unusually lightweight.  As you can see, the pads that grip the nipples themselves are semi-circular and rough in texture, and the clamping mechanisms are spring-loaded.  Place tension on the connecting chain, and they tighten."

"Mrrrpfh!"  Kennedy wasn't protesting, complaining, or expressing her displeasure.  She was begging.

Lena leaned close and began massaging Kennedy's right nipple.  "Now, now," she purred, "you brought this on yourself, remember?"

"Eeeeeeeh!"  Kennedy's body went totally rigid and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed as a clamp tightened around her right nipple.  It hurts—it hurts—it hurts!  She whined through her gag, again, then went rigid, again, as the second clamp captured her left nipple.  "Eeeeeeh!"

"What a drama queen," Lena chuckled, then clipped a light chain through a ring in the center of the chain connecting the nipple-clamps, lifted the free end up to the apparatus overhead, and clipped it to the cross-arm near the IV bag.

Kennedy's heart was hammering, again, and she was doing her best not to heave her clamped breasts.  The connecting chains formed a taut, upside down "Y," with negligible slack.  In fact, as she inhaled and exhaled, the chain tightened enough to tug on her nipples with each breath.  Hence, the inadvisability of breast heaving.

"I know you're probably a little thirsty," Lena said, then reached up and released the pinch-clamp on the IV bag, "hence the electrolyte drink.  Sorry it's room temperature.  If I'd known I'd be torturing you, I'd have chilled it in the refrigerator beforehand."

Kennedy blinked in horror.  The weight of the IV bag was counterbalancing the weight of the steel cylinder at the other end of the cross-arm.  As the fluid dripped from the bag—and she could already see drop after drop leaving the bag in the clear chamber at its base—its weight would diminish and the tug on the nipple-clamp chains would slowly increase!  And there was nothing she could do to stop it!  "Mrrrpfh!"

Lena was also gazing at the apparatus.  "I don't know which of Vivienne's dearly departed ancestors came up with this thing," she purred, "but you have to admit it's very clever."  She focused on Kennedy's sad, wet eyes.  "Good slave-girls get regular meals, healthy exercise, and nookie every night," she said.  "Bad slave-girls who try and run away, on the other hand, get punished."

Kennedy whined—"Mrrrk!"—and a shiver shook her stretched and shining body as Lena placed a hand on her taut tummy, slid her fingers through the captive's ginger pubic bush, then caressed her labia with her palm.  She closed her eyes and tried her best to ignore her Mistress' hand—and then it wasn't necessary.  Lena's hand was gone.

Kennedy opened her eyes, lifted her head, and found Lena near the chamber door.  She was clicking off the switches of a small electrical panel.  Two or more of the white spotlights overhead winked out with each click... until only the heat-lamps remained, and the clicks continued until only about half of the amber-orange lamps remained illuminated.  There was still a sufficient number of lamps to bathe Kennedy's stretched body from fingers to toes.

Then, without a word, Lena left the chamber.

The door closed, Kennedy heard the lock turn, and she was alone—alone but for the nipple-clamps and the slowly emptying IV bag overhead.  In the dim orange light she couldn't gauge the progress of the fluid slowly dripping towards her ball-gagged mouth, nor could she taste anything, not yet.  But gravity would not be denied, the fluid would arrive, the bag would empty, and her poor, burning nipples would be stretched!

Eventually, the electrolyte drink reached Kennedy's mouth.  It had an overly-sweet, cloying taste, probably as a result of not being cold.  As it dripped into her ball-gagged mouth, Kennedy managed to periodically swallow.  She could have turned her head to either side and let the liquid drain from her mouth to the table but that would have been disgusting and she was thirsty.

As for her nipples, as the minutes passed and the bag became more and more flaccid, the tug on her nipples increased until her breasts, already semi-flattened by her spreadeagled condition, were stretched into pale, freckled cones.  The agony was... surprisingly not agony.  Go figure.  Granted, the clamps hurt, but at some point the clamps stopped tightening.  Kennedy suspected the edges of semicircular pads actually gripping her nipples had maxed out, had met at the edges and could tighten no more.

The increase in pain had been negligible, either that or Kennedy had become accustomed to the entire arrangement.  And as for the increased tension on the chains stretching her boobs into cones, it hurt, but was far from agony.  She came to suspect the fulcrum of the lever arrangement had a governor of some sort.  The maximum pinch and stretch had already been achieved.  There was still fluid in the IV, but it was as bad as it was going to get.

Kennedy was not happy, and the clamps and chains were painful, but she had to admit her punishment fell short of actual torture.  It wasn't that Lena was all bark and no bite, but more like she was mostly bark and a little nibble.  Go figure.

Minutes passed and eventually the IV bag completely emptied.  Kennedy's nipples survived.  More minutes passed.

Finally, a key rattled in the lock, the door opened, and Lena returned.  Kennedy watched as she reached to the panel and clicked back on all the spotlights, clicked off the remaining heat-lamps, then took a step to the side to clear the doorway.  Seconds passed, and a new figure appeared, framed in the threshold.

Kennedy's eyes popped wide.  The newcomer was Renee Vidler!  Viv's "Auntie Renee" was dressed in a stylish, sleeveless summer dress with spaghetti straps.  Her dark hair was up, her pale blue eyes shone, and her lips were curled in a wicked, sinister smile.  To be charitable, the wicked and sinister nature of her amusement were probably a matter of context, but Kennedy didn't believe for one second that Renee had appeared to rescue her from Lena.

The blonde and brunette strolled to the table and smiled down at Kennedy.  Renee indicated the nipple clamps with a vague gesture, and Lena leaned forward.

"One thing you should know about nipple-clamps," Lena purred as she reached for the left clamp.  "If you think they hurt going on..."

"Urrrrrrrrrrk!"  It hurts—it hurts—it hurts!  Lena had released the clamp and Kennedy's breast had snapped back to its former slightly stretched shape, wobbling a little in the process.  Kennedy glared at Lena, then screamed through her gag, again.  "Urrrrrk!"  Lena had released the right clamp, with a similar result.

"Adorable," Renee sighed, smiling down at Kennedy's spreadeagled form.  "I love the additional freckles.  She was a cute little thing in Chicago, wearing her little power suit and radiating diligence, education, and inexperience, but just look at her now."  She reached out and rested her hand on Kennedy's taut stomach.  "Adorable."

Meanwhile, Lena had disassembled and returned the various parts of the nipple-stretching and damsel-hydrating apparatus to the steel cabinet.  She then strolled back to the table, this time to the side opposite Renee.

Kennedy looked from face to face—from Mistress to Mistress.  She tried to muster a few eye-daggers, but found she just didn't have it in her.

"The poor thing is tuckered out," Renee observed.

Lena reached out and gently examined Kennedy's nipples.  Kennedy winced as Lena's fingers delicately caressed the sore nubbins.  "None the worse for wear," Lena purred.

"Good," Renee said, sliding her hand down and scratching her fingers through Kennedy's pubic bush.  "Such a pretty little slave-girl.  Should we pierce her nipples, do you think?  I know a jeweler with a line of simply exquisite gold-clad titanium rings and posts, suitable for nipples, tongues, and other places."

Kennedy's eyes widened as she continued dividing her gaze between the two Mistresses.

Renee noticed Lena's expression and chuckled.  "Too much?"  She gave Kennedy's lower tummy a reassuring pat.  "Just kidding, Sweetness."

"Gingerella," Lena said.

"Excuse me?"

"Her name is Gingerella," Lena explained.

Renee's smile widened.  "How delightful.  Gingerella.  Well, get her ready for the barbeque.  Gingerella and I need to talk."

"Urk?"  Kennedy's eyes had popped even wider as she stared at Renee.

"Oh, I see," Renee chuckled, and gave Kennedy's tummy another reassuring pat.  "You'll be a guest at the barbeque, silly, not an entree.  That would be waaay over the top."  With that, she turned and left the chamber, quietly laughing as she went.

Kennedy watched her go, then turned her gaze to Lena.

"Wait here," Lena said, also giving Kennedy's stomach a pat.  "I need to fetch a few things."  And with that she followed Renee, closing the door behind her.

Kennedy heard the lock turn, again, then heaved a gagged sigh and let her head drop to the table.  Barbeque?  Kennedy's stomach growled.  I could eat.