by Van © 2026
		Chapter 1

Jess Bush as...  Dr. Jill Walker

A golden opportunity had fallen squarely into the lap of Dr. Jill Walker, Associate Professor of Archeology at Lewis and Clark University.  (Go Explorers!)

It was a fact of life that even a slender, curvaceous, athletic, flaxen-haired, and arguably gorgeous faculty member like Jill was expected to conduct original research, publish the results, carry a significant teaching load, process and interpret the artifacts and data she'd gathered doing fieldwork, and chase funding to support new fieldwork.  Hectic didn't begin to describe Jill's academic life, and she loved it.

Then, near the close of the current academic year, one of Jill's best students strolled into her office with what amounted to a dream proposal!

Milly Alcock as... "Mel" Lockhart

Melody Lockhart, the student in question, was a senior about to graduate with her Bachelor's Degree in archaeology.  "Mel" was a gifted scholar, a fellow blonde, and devilishly cute.  Also, as a Sister in good standing of the Delta Iota Delta sorority (ΔΙΔ), she was arguably devilish in general.

The DID's were notorious for their "Duct Tape Raids."  Now and then "Strike Teams" of DID-sisters would descend on dormitories and rival sorority houses and depart leaving a number of furiously struggling "duct-tape-mummies" in their wake.  They were the tape-happy black sheep of Greek Row.

It was all innocent fun, of course, and while it was not smiled upon by either the Dean of Students or the Greek Council, Tape Raids were a long recognized and "historic" element of undergraduate culture at Lewis & Clark and were therefore begrudgingly tolerated (sort of).  That said, realizing they were one ill-considered and over-the-top raid away from probation, the ΔΙΔ leadership put a high priority on making sure their "innocent pranks" never got out of hand.

Anyway, Mel came to Jill with an offer she couldn't resist.  It turned out her cousin was a senior member of the staff of a very wealthy British peer with a historic estate in the Ribble Valley of Lancashire, and as a graduation gift Mel had been invited to fly to the UK for an all expenses paid visit!

Apparently Lady Helen Clifton, the Dowager Countess Cumberdale and owner of the estate in question, had decided to reverse the longstanding family tradition of not allowing historians, archeologists, or similar riff-raff to grub around in the family records and/or the literal dirt of the estate.  Therefore, Associate Professor Jill Walker was included in the invitation, also with all expenses paid!  Her Ladyship wanted "Dr. Jill" (as Mel and her other students affectionately called her) to make a preliminary archaeological evaluation of the entire estate!

A fully funded trip to the "Green and Pleasant Land?"  An untapped and potentially significant archeological site (or sites)?  At the very least, even if the evaluation of "Bastillon Cottage" (the name of the Clifton estate) and its surrounds turned up nothing, it would be a chance for Jill to visit active and historical digs across the UK and pal around with her colleagues at various British universities and colleges before returning home.  Did Jill want to go?  HELL YES Jill wanted to go!

Anyway, over the course of Mel's final quarter at Lewis and Clark, letters and e-mails were exchanged and plans finalized.  Early in the process Jill had requested a sabbatical from her teaching duties and it was granted.  (Her department head was just as excited about the archeological opportunities as Jill herself.)

In the fullness of time Mel took her final final exam, crossed the stage and was handed her sheepskin, went home for a couple of weeks with her family, and now had returned to the L&C campus to help (meaning observe) while Jill turned over the last of her teaching and lab responsibilities and completed all the other arrangements required for her to commence her sabbatical.  Jill and Mel were scheduled to fly out of SeaTac in three days.

Melody had intended to bunk at ΔΙΔ House until their departure.  Greek Row was nearly a ghost town during Summer Quarter so there'd be plenty of room, but Jill decreed that Mel would sleep in the guest room of her Arts and Crafts cottage just off the L&C campus.  An archaeology grad student would be house-sitting for Jill while she was in the UK, but until they left Melody would be Jill's house guest.  She insisted.

The sun was rapidly setting over the L&C campus when Melody returned to "Casa Walker" after a final visit to ΔΙΔ House.  Jill and Mel's flight to the UK was in two days (meaning one night, one day, another night, and a wake-up).  She was resplendent in her usual seasonal casual-about-campus uniform of sneakers (with anklets), faded and tight-fitting denim cutoffs, a French-cut t-shirt (in powder-blue), as well as the usual underlying undies of panties and bra.  Her sling purse was over her right shoulder and a cloth shopping bag dangled from her left hand.

"Good news!" Mel beamed as she breezed into Jill's study/home-office, "they let me steal ten partial rolls of the good stuff!"

"What?"  Jill turned her head, in the process fluttering her perpetually tousled longish blond pixie or short bob.  "Oh.  Ten rolls seems like a lot.  Anyway, I also have good news!"  She pointed to the top papers on her desk.  "I printed out our boarding passes, and to my delight I find Her Ladyship has upgraded us to First Class!  We'll be crossing the pond in style.  It must be nice to be rich."

"It must," Mel grinned, then reached into her shopping bag and produced... a half-depleted roll of silver-gray duct-tape.  "Where do you want to do this?"

Jill stared at the silver roll Mel was slowly turning in her hand.  "Your bedroom," she said finally, then shook her head (causing more flaxen fluttering).  "This is nuts."

Mel shrugged.  "You're the one who's curious about what happens during a Duct Tape Raid." She shifted her smile back to the half-depleted roll.  "Last chance for me to use this on you, rather than you using it on me."

Jill shook her head.  "I don't wanna get taped up," she intoned.  Her expression might be described as a girlish pout and Mel thought it was very cute.

Mel shrugged again.  "Understandable.  Don't worry, Doc.  I can talk you through the process, no problem.  C'mon."  She spun on her sneaker-clad heels and headed for her guest bedroom.

Jill sighed, rolled her eyes, placed a paperweight over the boarding passes, then rose from her comfy office chair and followed.  By the time she arrived at Mel's bedroom the budding young archaeologist had already kicked off her sneakers, removed her anklets, unzipped her Daisy Dukes, and was in the process of pulling them down her legs.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Jill objected.  "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready," Mel chuckled as she stepped out of her shorts and tossed them to the side.  Her costume now reduced to white panties, bra, and powder-blue t-shirt, she crossed her arms in front, grabbed the bottom hem of said t-shirt, and was obviously preparing to pull it over her head.

"Stop!" Jill ordered.  "You never said you'd be naked!"

"Naked is better," Mel explained.  "We usually don't get to do it to our targets during actual raids, but everybody knows naked is better."

"No naked," Jill decreed.  "My house.  My rules.  No naked."

"Spoilsport," Mel grinned as she released her t-shirt and placed her hands on her hips.  "Anyway, use lots of tape, three turns at a bare minimum... so to speak.  That's three or more layers total, not counting marginal overlap, and make sure everything is as smooth and tight as possible."  She then spun on her bare heels to face away from the slightly wide-eyed and possibly nervous Jill, folded her arms behind her back, and grasped her elbows with her opposite hands.  "Start from my wrists to forearms and everywhere in between.  Smooth and tight.  Three layers.  Four is better."

Riiiiip!  Jill freed several inches of tape from the roll and proceeded to follow her student's instructions, ripping more tape from the roll as needed.  Mel's wrists and forearms disappeared under the mandated three layers of smooth and neatly overlapping silver-gray tape.

"Okay," Mel purred.  She was still cupping her elbows in the palms of her hands.  "Now, wrap my fingers, hands, and elbows and continue up to my mid-biceps.  That way my fingers will be fully covered and unable to do anything."

Riiiiip!  Jill followed the additional instructions as well, and soon Mel's fingers, hands, elbows, and half of her upper-arms were as neatly and tightly encased in silver as her forearms and wrists.  Mel's arms were now trapped behind her back and shrouded in a smooth, taut, "U"-shaped tube of tape.

Mel bit her lower lip in concentration as she twisted her upper body and rolled her shoulders, testing her silver-gray bonds.  "Excellent job, Doc!  Now, pin my upper arms against my torso with several turns above and below my boobs."

Riiiiip!  Once again, Jill followed Mel's instructions.  This expended the last of the first partial roll of tape, but there were nine more in the shopping bag.

Also once again, Mel did her best to escape from Jill's handiwork.  She failed, of course, but didn't seem to be upset about it.

"Really good for a rookie, Doc," the squirming captive gushed, then padded to the bed and flopped down on the covers.  "Now, ankles and knees so I can't go anywhere," she suggested (ordered), placing her legs together and crossing her ankles.  "Here.  I'm being helpful."

Riiiiip!  Jill's smile was now arguably mischievous as she proceeded to wrap five tight layers around Mel's crossed ankles....  Riiiiip!  ...followed by five more turns around her upper legs, just above her knees.  Then, without prompting... Riiiiip!  ...Jill added three more wrappings of five turns each around Mel's mid-lower-legs, lower legs just under her knees, and mid-thighs!
 
"Wow," Mel gasped as her captor and teacher-turned-student smoothed the final wrapping with her fingers.  "I thought you'd never done this before."

Jill smile was now un-arguably mischievous.  "Not with tape," she purred, "but I did play my share of Cops and Robbers and Cowboys and Indians when I was a kid."

Mel frowned as she resumed squirming.  "A lot?"

Jill shrugged.  "Not really, but we did play, and I was usually the designated snoopy girl detective, captured Indian maiden, or abducted cowgirl.  I got tied up a lot more often than I did the tying."

"That makes sense," Mel muttered.  She was still concentrating on evaluating her silver-gray bonds by twisting and squirming on the no-longer-neatly-made bed and therefore missed it when Jill stooped and picked up her discarded anklets.

Jill then climbed onto the bed, straddled her student/captive, pinning Mel on her back.

"Hey!" Mel objected (and giggled).  "What are you—Mrrrf!"

Grinning like the proverbial crazed fiend, Jill had stuffed both anklets into Mel's mouth—Riiiiip!—then stripped tape from the now nearly exhausted second roll and slapped it over Mel's stuffed mouth.

"You said at least three layers," Jill purred, "right?"

"Mrrrpfh!" Mel confirmed... or maybe she was objecting to being gagged.  It could be either.

Jill proceeded to take three tight turns completely around Mel's head, mummifying her lower face from just below her nose to just above her chin.

"There's only a little left on this roll," Jill noted, "so I might as well use it up."

The smiling academic proceeded to do just that, adding four additional layers to Mel's wrap-around-tape-gag.  She then ripped the 99% exhausted roll free, tossed it away, and smoothed the tape with her fingers, all the while smiling evilly like a stereotypical gloating villainess.  She then climbed off Mel and the bed.

"Mmmmmrrrpf!" Mel complained.  Jill conceded her former student and soon-to-be traveling companion had a valid point.

"You're welcome," Jill chuckled as she strolled to the bedroom door... then paused in the threshold.  "I'm not particularly hungry.  Are you?"

"Mrrrrrrr!" Mel responded by vigorously bucking and rolling on the bed.

"Good," Jill grinned.  "We'll make it a late supper.  Why don't you take a nap while I finish answering the rest of my e-mail?"  She then took a step back and closed the door without waiting for an answer.

That'll teach the little trickster, Jill thought as she returned to her desk.

"Mrrrf!" Mel complained to the now closed door.  The entire point of the make-Doc-curious-about-bondage-by-tying-me-up exercise was to provide Mel with the required ammunition to talk Jill into letting her reverse the dynamic and tie her up.  The prisoner-of-the-bed still intended to make that happen, but she had to acknowledge her execution of her opening gambit hadn't gone exactly the way she'd expected it would.

Anyway, Mel would have to see what she could come up with after they got to the UK.  In the meantime...  Sigh!  ...she wasn't going anywhere in the immediate future.

Bastillon Cottage
The estate of Lady Helen Clifton, the Dowager Countess Cumberdale
County of Lancashire, England, the United Kingdom

---

Billy Piper as... Bailey Lockhart

Still wearing her usual "working uniform" of black high-heel pumps, black hose (with garters), black pencil-skirt, ivory blouse, and frilly unmentionables, Bailey Lockhart strolled down the darkened corridor towards Her Ladyship's bedchamber.  Her chosen ensemble was stylish, tailored, expensive, and completed by the matching black jacket she'd left back in her bedchamber.  Bailey owned similar suits and other business attire in a variety of colors, but today she'd decided to go black-and-ivory.  As Lady Clifton's secretary and companion she was well paid and expected to dress smartly.

Bailey's long blond hair was loose about her shoulders and a somewhat coy smile curled her full lips.  She was about to do something naughty that might land her in trouble, but it would be highly entertaining trouble.

The non-resident servants had all departed for the day, the two resident maids had retired to their own bedchambers (Bailey assumed), and the only lights burning in the rooms and corridors were feebly flickering electrified candlesticks serving as nightlights.  They did their best to light her way through the Cottage, and together with the added moonlight shining through various windows there was more than enough illumination, especially since Bailey could navigate the labyrinth that was Bastillon Cottage while blindfolded.

Bailey arrived at the ornately carved door of her destination, quickly (and unnecessarily) straightened her hair, knocked twice, then immediately entered the bedchamber beyond without waiting for permission.

Hannah Waddingham as... Lady Helen Clifton

Her Ladyship was in her luxurious and oversized four-poster bed, reclined against a small mountain of pillows and reading John Grisham's latest bestseller.  (John was a good friend of Lady Clifton as well as a colleague and amiable competitor.  Helen Clifton was the author of several dozen highly successful murder mysteries written under the pen name "Flossie Fitzgerald.")

It was Her Ladyship's habit to sleep in the nude and tonight was no exception.  Her 40-something, exquisitely curvaceous, athletic, uniformly tan, and undeniably gorgeous person was on full display.  Her long blond hair was pulled back in a ribbon-enforced ponytail, and she was smiling at her secretary, companion, and lover.

"What's the meaning of this intrusion?" Her Ladyship demanded (still smiling).

"You asked me to notify you when Skylar and Elfrida finished cleaning your soon-to-arriving guests' bedrooms," Bailey responded, smiling brightly.

Her Ladyship rolled her incredibly beautiful blue eyes.  "And that's your feeble excuse for disturbing me in my bed?"  She tucked a bookmark in Grisham's novel and placed the tome on her right bedside table.  "You're fooling no one, least of all me."

"I don't know what you mean, Your Ladyship."  Given the circumstances, Bailey's beaming smile now bordered on impertinence.

Oh-by-the-way, there was a third person in the bedchamber.  She was lying on the carpeted floor at the foot of Her Ladyship's gigantic four-poster bed and was as naked as Lady Clifton herself, or nearly so.

Lily Cole as... Dr. Lucy Russell

Whoever she was, she was a redhead, a ginger redhead, and her copper-red tresses trailed down her back, emerging from the bottom of a saddle-brown, chamois-thin, skintight leather hood tightly laced over her head.  Its only openings were a pair of brass grommets positioned to serve as breathing holes.  In addition, a harness of leather straps in the same shade of brown and with brass buckles tightly pressed a thin, wide panel against her mouth, a blindfold across her eyes, and padded leather earmuffs over her ears.  As the hood already covered the ginger's ears, eyes, and mouth, the head-harness was both redundant and superfluous.

That wasn't all.  Far from it.  Behind the ginger's back a single-sleeve armbinder of the same brown leather encased her fingers, hands, wrists, and arms, all the way to her armpits.  The binder was laced very tight, pressing her elbows together.  Once again redundancy was rearing its head.  Totally unnecessary leather straps were tightly buckled around the armbinder's wrist and elbow regions.

In addition, the brown leather straps of an elaborate upper-body harness with brass rings and buckles embraced the ginger's body from her upper thighs to her shoulders, pressing and pinning her leather-encased arms against her back, encircling her waist, passing above and below her firm and generously sized (but not overly huge) breasts, and separately encircling her upper thighs.  It did not cleave her butt-cheeks or lady-bits.

Finally, a collar of dull gray steel was locked around her neck, tethering her to a steel ring embedded in the underside of the lower bed-frame by about twelve feet of moderately heavy steel chain.

The ginger's legs were completely free, but obviously she wouldn't be leaving the bedchamber until released by Her Ladyship.

The captive in question was Dr. Lucy Russell, lecturer in History at Edinburgh University; or at least that was who Bailey assumed was sprawled on the carpet.  There was always the possibility that Lady Clifton had kidnapped some other exquisitely gorgeous redhead with flawless peach-pink skin and firm, generously sized bristols while the actual Dr. Russel was asleep in her guest bedroom in an adjacent wing of the Cottage.

Bailey gazed (leered) down at the weakly squirming and supremely helpless prisoner chained to Her Ladyship's bed.  She noted that the copper-red pubic bush of the redhead in question was neatly trimmed into a narrow vertical stripe, what Bailey believed was popularly termed a "Brazilian."  Having shared the Bastillon Cottage sauna with Dr. Russell on countless previous occasions, she knew the historian sported such a Brazilian, making the "unknown redhead hypothesis" even more unlikely.

"I placed rubber plugs in Dr. Russell's ears before lacing up the hood and buckling on the head-harness," Lady Clifton purred.

"Tape-gag?" Bailey inquired, still smiling down at the captive academic.

"Of course," Her Ladyship responded., "a nice smooth Elastoplast strip over one of those wicked new German gobstoppers you suggested I might want to purchase."

Bailey's smile widened.  "Silencilicone."

Her Ladyship nodded.  "That's the brand name.  Anyway, Lucy might be able to feel vibrations through the floor, but I seriously doubt she can hear anything we're saying, nor can she see anything, of course, and the volume and eloquence of any vocalizations she might wish to share will be severely limited."  Her aristocratic smile widened.  "Strip."

"Your Ladyship?" Bailey inquired.  Her smile was now both leering and slightly nervous.

"You came here to watch," Lady Clifton purred, "so watch you shall, but on my terms.  Strip and neatly fold your clothes.  Then move my 'changing chair' to the middle of the room.  Insure you have an adequate view of whatever might happen on the bed but aren't too close to Dr. Russell.  I don't want Lucy bumping into you if she decides to start exploring the limits of her chain.  You know where I keep my 'hobby' supplies."

Bailey carried out Her Ladyship's commands, stripping to the skin and stacking her folded clothing on a convenient side table.  She then dragged a heavy wooden Italian Rococo straight-back chair from its usual place against a wall to more-or-less the center of the bedchamber.  Now totally naked, she padded to an Italian Rococo cabinet, opened a drawer, and pulled out another of Lady Clifton's new silicon-rubber, tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling plugs, a roll of off-white Elastoplast tape, and a pair of shining steel bandage-scissors.  This particular Silencilicone glob was translucent, nearly as clear as glass.  Bailey eased it into her mouth, rocking it back and forth to achieve optimal fit.

The other naked blonde in the bedchamber (Her Ladyship) watched this process with a gorgeous and decidedly wicked smile.

The hooded, blindfolded, and totally helpless ginger sprawled on the carpet (Dr. Russell) did not, meaning she neither watched nor smiled as Bailey stuffed her own mouth with the clear plug.

Next, Bailey pulled a short length of hemp cord from the drawer, combed her fingers through her flaxen locks and gathered them behind her head, and used the cord to enforce a tight ponytail.  She then stripped a six to seven inch length of tape from the roll, snipped it free with the scissors, then stretched and plastered the strip over her mouth, giving herself a smooth, taut, milky-white tape-gag from just under her nose to just above her chin and from ear to ear.

Bailey then closed the drawer, opened a lower and much larger drawer, pulled out several neatly bundled coils of thin hemp rope, then closed the drawer and padded back to the waiting chair.  She then sat on the chair's padded seat, prepared a coil of the thin rope (or possibly thick cord) for use, leaned forward, and began binding her ankles together.

"Stop that, you Silly Goose!" Lady Clifton scolded as she climbed from the bed, padded to Bailey and the chair, knelt on the carpet at her fellow naked blonde's feet, quickly removed Bailey's incomplete ankle-bonds, then set to work.

Naked and tape-gagged (with silicon-rubber stuffing), Bailey sat back in the chair, placed her hands in her naked lap, and watched.

"You know I can do a much better job of tying you up than you can for yourself."  She finished binding Bailey's ankles and prepared a second coil of rope/cord for use.  "You just wanted to deprive me of the pleasure, didn't you, you wicked nutter?  Now you're going to pay the price."

Bailey's pretty blue eyes continued smiling.  She knew Her Ladyship was only teasing.  Was she nervous?  A little.  Was she frightened?  Don't be ridiculous.

Coil followed coil, and when Lady Clifton was finished Bailey was bound at her ankles, knees, waist, wrists (behind her back and the chair-back), and with multiple neat bands of thin hemp pinning her torso and arms against the chair-back, crossing her thighs to bind her to the chair-seat, and linking her ankle-bonds to her wrist bonds in a seated hogtie.  All of her bonds were tight enough to dimple her tan skin, were well-cinched to prevent anything from shifting, and with all knots positioned well away from her fluttering and groping fingers.

Bailey was now well and truly lashed to the chair.  She struggled and squirmed for several seconds to confirm her helplessness... then heaved a tape-gagged sigh.  With considerable effort she might be able to rock back and forth, topple the chair, and land on the plush carpet with a muffled thud, but such a course of action was ill advised.  Not only would it be potentially painful, but it wouldn't free her from the chair.  More importantly, it would probably displease Her Ladyship and she would no longer be able to watch whatever was about to happen on Her Ladyship's bed.

The naked, chair-bound, tape-gagged, and would be involuntary voyeur squirmed in her bonds and waited for Her Ladyship to release Dr. Russell's tethering chain from the bed-frame, lift her up, drag her to the bed, then have her way with her!  Oh the wicked drama!

Instead, Lady Clifton returned to her bed alone—leaving the naked, leather-bound, gagged, ear-plug-deafened, blindfolded, hooded, collared, and chain-tethered ginger on the floor.  She then reclined against her pile of pillows, retrieved her book, and returned to her reading.

Seconds passed... turned into a minute... then two.

Okay.  Very funny.  Hah hah hah, Bailey silently fumed.  If you're going to be that way... I'm leaving.  Only she wasn't, of course, not unless Her Ladyship released her from the chair, and the probability of that happening was somewhere between zero and negative one.  Bailey could wiggle and writhe and grope for the unreachable knots keeping her in the chair to her heart's content, but she knew she would remain totally and inescapably bound, gagged, and helpless.  That didn't mean she couldn't complain about it, of course.

"Mrrrrrf!"

Lady Clifton smiled over the top of her book and at the flaxen-haired prisoner-of-the-chair.   Her ginger prisoner remained out of sight on the carpeted floor, of course, but she realized the garbled grievance had come from her beloved (and nakedly helpless) Bailey.

"Yes?" Her Ladyship inquired with a coy smile.

Bailey glowered at her captor (and lover) but didn't bother repeating her complaint.

"Oh!" Lady Clifton exclaimed.  "You expected me to drag Dr. Russell to my bed and have my wicked way with her for your immediate entertainment, didn't you."

Her Ladyship was continuing her gorgeous smile and her beautiful blue eyes were sparkling.  Bailey found it to be most irritating.

"I fully intend to do just that," Lady Clifton admitted, "meaning snog and boink the good doctor until she cums like a ginger bunny, but..."  She lifted the Grisham novel still in her hands.  "I'd just started a new chapter when you so rudely barged in and violated my privacy; so now you can bloody well sit there and wait 'til I've finished."

And with that, Lady Helen Clifton returned to her naked reading.

Having no choice in the matter, Bailey and Lucy continued their naked languishing.

Chapter 2

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