by Van © 2026
		Chapter 2

The present day Bastillon Cottage is an eclectic mix of styles, an architectural hodgepodge of additions and renovations made over the course of centuries—more-or-less Georgian if approached from the south using its tree-lined drive—marked elements of Restoration if approached via the service road on its eastern flank—and largely Arts and Crafts as viewed across the fields and forest trails to the west and north.  It's comprised of "only" about seventy-five rooms, far fewer than most Grand Estates.  Historically, the Lancashire manor was the Clifton family's country retreat, the place to which they escaped once "the season" was over in London; and since none of Lady Helen's ancestors had been obsessed with hunting or shooting, they'd built (and rebuilt) themselves a "Cottage," rather than a "Lodge."

Anyway, Bastillon was somewhat famous for its picturesque charm, and this was despite the fact that the family had never allowed public tours.  The manor house is known to the public only in paintings and photographs, and Lady Helen Clifton certainly didn't need the revenue from tourist visits and souvenir sales.  Legacy trust funds paid for any required roof, wiring, or plumbing repairs, and the budget was generously supplemented by the royalties from "Flossie Fitzgerald's" novels.  In any case, the last thing Her Ladyship wanted was gawking strangers and chattering schoolchildren wandering around the Cottage and sticking their noses where they didn't belong.

Oh-by-the-way, atop a modest hill roughly a quarter-mile from the Cottage and its outbuildings and gardens stood "Cumberdale Castle," or more precisely what was left of it.  The castle had started as a pre-Roman hill fort, then gradually evolved into a stone bastion that dominated the immediate area and important trade routes.  It was spectacularly destroyed by the cannon and mortars of Cromwell's New Model Army during the Civil War; however, it was hinted in some historical accounts that the castle had destroyed itself.  That is, the Earl of Cumberdale and his immediate family, his retainers and their families, as well as the castle garrison and their families had all committed mass-suicide-by-gunpowder.  Either that or they'd passed under the siege lines by means of a secret tunnel and dispersed into the countryside, blowing up the castle's magazines in their wake.

In any case, the current castle was more-or-less a jumble of half-collapsed towers and walls overgrown with ivy and other vegetation.  The lower levels were buried under tons of stone rubble.  The ruin itself was certified as "Extremely Hazardous" and was tastefully fenced off and well posted with warning signs.  Her Ladyship did allow remote viewing.  In fact, she'd established a picnic area from which visitors could gape at the picturesque and allegedly romantic "Castle" from a safe distance.  There was also a small gift shop that sold honey, preserves, and baked goods produced by local farmers and all bearing "Cumberdale Castle" labels.  Occasionally the local constabulary apprehended "Castle Enthusiasts" attempting to crawl through the rubble, eager to add Cumberdale to their life-lists of castle explorations, but by and large the serenity of the ruins went undisturbed.

Anyway, Her Ladyship also owned a luxurious and historic mansion in St. John's Wood, London and a modestly luxurious hilltop villa in Mallorca, but Bastillon Cottage was far and away her favorite abode (for a variety of reasons).

Jill was suffering from jet lag and she could tell Mel was as well... and it was the worst kind of jet lag, the kind caused by traveling west to east.  The first class flight from SeaTac (SEA) to Heathrow (LHR) and the regional flight to Manchester (MAN) had been comfortable enough, but champagne, peanuts, surprisingly yummy gourmet meals, and in-flight movies can only go so far towards compensating for endless hours with your butt planted in a padded seat and engines droning in your ears.

Anyway, Lady Clifton had dispatched a chauffeured town car to bring them the final miles to Bastillon Cottage... and now the trip was over.

Lady Helen Clifton herself was stunning (in Jill's opinion)—40-something, tall (like Jill herself), with fashion-and-swimsuit-model-worthy looks and glorious blond hair, all of which strongly suggested that Dane (Viking) invaders were hiding in the branches of the Clifton family tree.  "Her Ladyship" also had amazing blue eyes, smooth tan skin, a welcoming smile, and was in no way snooty or condescending to her American visitors.  She took Jill's hand and led her up the steps and into the Cottage.

"I can't wait to show you the estate," Her Ladyship gushed as they entered the Cottage's formal entry hall.  "The grounds have already been mapped by drone.  We can commence a preliminary GPR survey once you advise me on which equipment to purchase.  I understand Leica Geosystems has developed a new autonomous unit that follows a grid of programmed GPS coordinates, sort of a self-driving Roomba the size of a riding lawnmower, only no rider is required.  Just enter a set of way-points, set it loose, and sit back in the comfort of your field office and watch as it paints the screen of your computer."

"I've read about it," Jill said (stifling a yawn), "but it's very pricey."

"Let me worry about funding," Her Ladyship purred.  "I consider this project to be very important."

Jill yawned again.  She couldn't help it.  It was requiring all her concentration to meet-and-greet with Her Ladyship, Bailey Lockhart (who was currently chatting with Mel, her young cousin), and Dr. Lucy Russell, who apparently was an Edinburgh University historian recruited by Lady Clifton to study the family archives.  Lucy was a stunning redhead, by the way, but based on their brief conversation Jill was unsure whether she was Scottish or English.

Sydney Chandler as... Skylar Metcalfe

Emma Thorne as...   Elfrida Birkett

A pair of maids, both in traditional black-and-white uniforms—black sensible shoes, simple black dresses, and lace-trimmed white aprons and caps—were busy carrying Jill and Mel's luggage to their guest bedrooms.  Both domestics were very pretty brunettes, one with a dark brown pageboy and the other sporting a lighter brown pixie, and the pixie wore glasses.  Neither servant had been introduced (of course), but Jill had noted that while giving the maids their instructions Lady Clifton had continued her streak of being neither snobbish nor snooty.  Bastillon Cottage appeared to enjoy excellent labor relations.

Jill yawned, once again.

Her Ladyship patted her fellow blonde's hand with a kind smile.  "I know you're tired from your journey," she purred, "but I strongly recommend you abstain from napping.  You'll get over your jet lag much more quickly and easily if you force yourself right into the local circadian rhythm.  Trust me.  I'm an experienced traveler."

Jill smiled and nodded.  She knew Her Ladyship was correct.

"Hey Doc!" Mel shouted, then focused her smile on Dr. Russell.  "Sorry, Doc.  I meant my Doc."  She shifted her beaming smile to Jill.  "Bailey says they have a pool.  Ya wanna take a swim?  I wanna take a swim!"

"We do have a pool," Lady Clifton confirmed, clearly amused by Mel's youthful/informal enthusiasm.

Jill was grateful for Her Ladyship's tolerance.  "Negatory, Melvin," she intoned.  "Lady Clifton, Dr. Russell, and I intend to dive right into discussing the survey project; but by all means, take a swim.  I'll let you know when it's time for you to start doing the vast majority of the repetitive and exhausting fieldwork."

"Hah!" Mel intoned.  She knew Dr. Jill was kidding... although she was well aware that a lot of digging with trowels and brushes was in her future (and actually she was looking forward to it.)

"Elfrida," Her Ladyship called.

The very pretty maid with the light brown pixie and glasses curtsied, despite being encumbered by Mel's luggage.  "M'Lady?" she chirped.  (Mel thought it was very cute.)

"After you settle Miss Lockhart into her room and help her unpack, show her the way to the pool."

"Yes, M'Lady."  Elfrida curtsied again, then smiled at Mel (and blushed).

Mel smiled back, when whispered in an aside to her cousin as the group started forward again.  "Elfrida, huh.  She's cute."

Bailey smiled.  "Indeed.  The other maid is Skylar."

"Skylar," Mel repeated.  "She's cute too."

"Wow, this is incredible," Mel gushed as she entered her designated bedroom.  Technically it was in the servant's wing of the Cottage, or possibly immediately adjacent to the servant's wing.  As Elfrida had explained, the Cottage had a full household staff—cooks, gardeners, a chauffeur, other maids, etc.—but Skylar and herself were the only live-in servants, although there were three if you counted Bailey, even though Her Ladyship's secretary and companion wasn't really a servant, and she certainly wasn't a maid.  Anyway, the rest of the staff lived on Her Ladyship's tenant farms or in the nearby village of Lesser Brunwood and commuted to work.

The bedroom was actually a suite, having a small attached bath, and was quite spacious.  It had a pleasant view of the gardens and its four-poster bed was large, possibly queen-size.  Mel turned to find Elfrida had placed her suitcase on a straight chair, deposited her matching duffel next to it on the floor, and was carrying her laptop case to a large desk.

"If Miss would provide the key," Elfrida requested, "I can start with the unpacking."

Mel grinned as she pulled her key-ring from her pocket and strode towards Elfrida and the luggage.

"Miss doesn't need you to unpack for Miss," Mel chuckled as she unlocked her suitcase... then stooped and unlocked her duffel.  "Miss wants to take that swim Miss was promised."

Elfrida smiled and suppressed a giggle.  She couldn't help it.  (The pixie-haired Brit had a truly delightful smile, by the way.)  "As Miss desires."

Mel opened her suitcase, rummaged around until she found her swimsuit, a string bikini in a very pretty shade of goldenrod-yellow, then strolled to the bed and began to undress.

Elfrida smiled and watched as Mel removed her traveling ensemble of sneakers, socks, jeans, blouse, and jacket... followed by her underwear... and was now nude.  She noted the striking family resemblance between Miss Melody and Mistress Bailey.  Both Lockharts had the same smooth, firm, tan skin, athletic builds, fair hair (with dark roots that lightened in the sun), dark-blond pubic bushes, blue eyes, and sexy overbites.  Elfrida and Skylar had agreed that they both liked Bailey's noticeable but in no way excessive overbite, and Mel's was just as cute.  In any case, Mel was very much a younger version of her 40-something cousin, Elfrida very much approved, and once they had a chance to compare notes she knew Skylar would as well.

Elfrida tore her gaze from the naked Mel, then hurried into the bathroom and returned with a white terrycloth robe.

Now resplendent in her goldenrod bikini, Mel stretched... arching her back as she reached for the ceiling... then smiled at Elfrida, who held the robe open so she could slip her arms into the sleeves, pull it closed, and cinch its terrycloth belt.  "All ready," Mel beamed.

Elfrida glanced at Mel's bare feet (which were as tan and cute as the rest of her).  "Did Miss pack a pair of slippers?" she inquired.  "If not, I can believe I can find a pair that fit."

"No need," Mel answered, then padded to the door.

Elfrida scampered ahead of Her Ladyship's guest to open the bedroom door.  "This way, Miss," Elfrida said as she dropped a quick curtsy, then led the way down the hallway.

Damn she's cute! Mel thought as she padded in Elfrida's wake, and I love her accent.  I wonder where Lady Clifton keeps her duct tape.  I've never taped up a maid and Elfrida seems to be the kind that can take a joke.

The pool wasn't exactly huge, but it was long, narrow, and obviously designed for lap swimming.  Also, it was the centerpiece of a Art Nouveau-style greenhouse (another Bastillon Cottage eccentricity) that was home to countless ferns, bromeliads, orchids, and other plants that had no business thriving in Lancashire.  Mel assumed the pool was part of the humidity and temperature regulation system that maintained the glass-enclosed tropical microclimate.

"Thanks!" Mel said to Elfrida, then stripped off her robe and tossed it on a wrought iron chair, one of four grouped around a poolside café table.  She then padded to a small alcove with a shower head positioned over a large drain in the tiled floor, tugged on a chain, quickly and efficiently drenched herself from head to toes... then padded to the pool, executed a perfect overhead dive into the deep end... and began to swim.

Five laps of the front crawl were followed by two laps of the breaststroke... two more laps of the sidestroke... two more of the backstroke... three more rapid laps of the front crawl... then Mel drifted on her back in the middle of the pool and stared up through the greenhouse glass roof, smiling at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds.

At some point Mel noticed that Elfrida was still standing poolside, smiling and holding a large, neatly folded, fluffy white towel.

"Hey!" Mel shouted as she swam in place, "you didn't have to hang around.  I'm sure I can find my way back to my room."  She frowned slightly.  "Pretty sure,"

"I've been assigned to assist Mistress until she becomes accustomed to the Cottage," Elfrida responded.

"Oh," Mel responded, still treading the rippling water.  "In that case... I suppose you should give me a tour."  Her smile turned slightly mischievous.  "I'm especially interested in seeing Her Ladyship's dungeon.  Her Ladyship does have a dungeon, right?  A place this old has got to have a dungeon."

Mel swam a languid breaststroke towards the maid still patiently waiting at poolside, but the adorable maid was still smiling.  Mel was somewhat disappointed.  She'd been hoping Elfrida would blush and dither in embarrassment, but she hadn't.  Her incredibly winsome smile had never faltered.  Mel sighed a watery sigh.  A flustered Elfrida would be very cute, but unfortunately it wasn't happening.

"As Miss wishes," Elfrida responded, perfectly deadpan (and still smiling).

Mel blinked several times.  She was the one that was surprised.  "Wait.  I was kidding.  This place really does have a dungeon?"  She quickened her pace to the side, then vaulted out of the pool.  "Yes, Miss wishes.  Miss definitely wishes!  Show me the dungeon!"

Elfrida handed Mel the towel and Her Ladyship's guest began drying herself.

"After we return to Miss's room so she can dress," Elfrida purred, "I suggest we start your tour on the top floor and work our way down until—"

"No, no, no!" Mel interrupted as she vigorously toweled her hair.  "I wanna see the dungeon first!  I've always wanted to see a real dungeon."

"As Miss wishes," Elfrida reiterated, "but I insist that Miss must first brush her hair.  Otherwise, it will dry into quite an unsightly mess."  She gestured to a small wrought iron rack holding additional folded towels.  Next to it was a small vanity mirror over a wrought iron shelf with a comb and brush set.  "This way, Miss."

"Whatever," Mel muttered, then stomped (padded) to the mirror, grabbed the brush, and drew its bristles through her damp locks.  Her short crop restored to its usual tousled self (albeit still damp), she tossed the brush back on the shelf and turned to the smiling maid.

"Okay, lead on way!"

Elfrida dropped a graceful curtsy.  "Of course, Miss."  She then strolled towards the main entrance to the pool/greenhouse.

Mel padded in her wake.  She'd forgotten to don her borrowed terrycloth robe (and Elfrida, smiling an enigmatic smile, hadn't reminded her).

Elfrida led Mel through the ground floor service area to a windowless storeroom paneled in dark oak, paused at a section between two cabinets, placed her thumb on a large knot, and pressed.  There was a quiet click... then a rectangular oak section swung inwards on silent hinges, revealing itself to be a thick and perfectly camouflaged hidden door.  Beyond were the stone walls, ceiling, and floor of a set of stairs leading downwards.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Mel demanded, jumping up and down with enthusiasm.  "You have a secret door leading to your dungeon?  This is so cool!"  She then scampered down the stairs, her bare feet quietly slapping on the flat stones.

Elfrida smiled and followed.

Their way was lit by widely separated flickering LED fixtures that took the form of "Medieval" sconces, glass globes set in iron cages and mounted up near the ceiling and alternating on both walls.

The stairs bottomed out on a stone corridor.  On their left stood a single sturdy door of dark timber banded with iron straps and studded with iron bolts.  Immediately ahead a wall of stout, vertical, closely-spaced iron bars blocked further progress.  It was pierced only by a gate of equally stout iron bars secured by a latch with a prominent lock.  The corridor and LED fixtures continued beyond the bars, the dim, flickering, arguably spooky lighting revealing more timber and iron doors as far as could be seen.

Mel padded forward and pulled on the gate.  It didn't even rattle.  She turned to Elfrida, her lips (and sexy overbite) set in a moue of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Miss," Elfrida apologized.  "The entry gate is usually kept open, and I don't have the key."  She then strolled to the door on their left, the only door on their side of the bars, grabbed its wooden handle, lifted its latch, and opened it a few inches.  "At least the Dressing Chamber is unlocked."

"Dressing Chamber?" Mel frowned, then grabbed the handle and opened the door all the way.  "Why does a dungeon need a... Oh!"  She'd gotten her first look at what was beyond and her blue eyes had widened in shock.  Yes, shock!  (An alternate description might have been amazed delight.)

Centered in the chamber was a waist-high and somewhat narrow table constructed of heavy wooden timbers.  Above the length of the table hung a half-dozen of the flickering LED globes in cages, only they all dangled from chains instead of being sconces.  Also, interspersed among the globes were a number of iron rings dangling from more vertical chains, and each chain passed through a pulley set in the ceiling, horizontally traveled across the ceiling to a second pulley, then diagonally down to a hand-cranked winch mounted on the wall.

Around the periphery of the table dangled additional iron rings, obviously to serve as lashing points, but Mel's main focus was on the four leather cuffs running in narrow. parallel iron tracks sunken in the tabletop, two cuffs and tracks at each end.  The leather restraints were comprised of thick, wide inner straps and much narrower outer straps, each of which could be secured by the pair of D-rings comprising a friction-buckle.

Mel had immediately formed the opinion that she was staring at... a bondage table!  It could be nothing else!  It was a real life bona fide bondage table!

"Wow!" Mel gasped, then padded forward and ran her hands over the tabletop.  It was smooth under the touch, with no apparent danger of abrasion or splinters.  The wood had been stained dark, sanded, and sealed in some manner, but it was not a mirror-polished plane.  It had texture.

Elfrida watched as Mel examined the table, running her palms over the smooth but textured wood, lifting and tugging on the iron rings around the periphery, then examining the leather cuffs.  The iron tracks suggested they were adjustable, that the cuffs could slide along the tracks, but at the moment they were rigidly fixed in place.  Their mountings didn't even rattle.

Watching Mel's amazed reaction, the pixie-haired and bespectacled maid struggled to suppress the wicked amusement threatening to curl her lips, but was finding it to be quite difficult.

"I just gotta try it!" Mel gushed, then vaulted onto the table, lay on her back, flung her arms and legs wide, and wiggled and squirmed until her wrists and ankles rested in the open cuffs.  Now in a full spreadeagle, she turned her head and grinned at Elfrida.  "Buckle the cuffs!" she requested (meaning demanded).

"Oh, Miss!" Elfrida dithered.  "I couldn't possibly!"  (The maid's flustered reaction was very convincing.)

"Pleeease?" Mel implored.  "I wanna try it.  Buckle the cuffs!  Pleeease?"

Elfrida heaved a worried sight (even though she was in no way worried).  Her instructions had been to gauge Mel's reaction to the possibility of a dungeon tour at some point in the next few days, not to immediately render the comely young visitor totally helpless and at Her Ladyship's mercy.  She would get in trouble if she took things too far, too fast.  Finally, her lips curled in a mischievous smile.  What's wrong with getting in trouble... as long as I get to pay the price?  After all, at least in Skylar's opinion, blotting my copybook is my specialty.

"As Miss commands," the grinning maid sighed, then stepped to the table and tightened the first of the roughly three-inch-wide inner cuffs around Mel's right ankle, threaded its one-and-a-half-wide outer strap through its double-D-ring-friction-buckle, then jerked it tight.

Mel flinched in reaction.  Her smile had faded and she'd begun taking deep, slow, even breaths... but she didn't try to escape as Elfrida continued around the table, next capturing her left ankle... then her left wrist... and finally her right wrist.

The now helpless prisoner-of-the-table commenced tugging on all four of her restraints.  She could tell immediately that there was no way she'd be able to wiggle out of the tight leather; and then, Elfrida reduced the possibility of a hypothetical escape from impossible to farcically absurd by making a second circuit of the table and tightening the cuffs' outer straps until the pliant leather creaked in protest.

Mel struggled for several more seconds.  The four cuffs were definitely tighter.  Her spreadeagled condition allowed about an inch of slack for each limb—maybe an inch-and-a-half—but she could tell that other than allowing a little pathetic wiggling, writhing, and squirming the "slack" wasn't going to do her any good.  Finally... Mel relaxed in her inescapable bonds, turned her head, and nervously smiled at Elfrida.

"Wow," the helpless bikini-clad blonde intoned in a near whisper.

Elfrida continued smiling.  "Indeed, Miss."  She then turned and gracefully strolled (in what Mel considered to be a blatantly saucy and seductive manner) to one of the chamber's cabinets.  "As I recall, Miss inquired earlier as to reason this is designated the 'Dressing Chamber.'  Am I correct?"

Mel tugged on her left cuff before answering.  "Uh, yeah," she confirmed (nervously).  It was about then that she took full note the large number of wardrobe-like wooden cabinets standing against the chamber walls.  Being preoccupied with the table, she'd unconsciously ignored them 'til now.  Mel's curiosity was piqued, but she was too nervous (see also terrified, panicked, and thrilled) to inquire about their contents.

Elfrida opened a cabinet door, reached inside, and extracted something, but she made sure the door and her body blocked Mel's view of whatever she'd taken from one of the cabinet's drawers as she closed the door, spun on the heels of her sensible shoes, and strolled back to the table.

Mel tugged on her cuffs and frowned as the smiling maid approached. "W-what did you—Mrrrf!"

The mystery was solved!  Elfrida had taken a leather gag from the cabinet, and it was a panel-gag!  Its substantial but pliant leather mouth-plug was now crammed in Mel's mouth, its panel pressing against her lips and lower face, and Elfrida was deftly and efficiently buckling the narrow strap of its buckle at the nape of her neck and under her tousled crop of hair!  The grinning maid then tightened the strap until Mel's cheeks bulged.  The spreadeagled captive's blue eyes were now very large (and incredibly cute, in Eldrida's opinion).

The maid's blue eyes, on the other hand, were sparkling behind the wide, circular lenses of her wire-rim glasses, and her smile had widened to include what were arguably an adorable set of dimples.

"There," the grinning maid purred.  "Back to the 'Dressing Chamber' topic, I suppose this venue might just as easily have been named the 'Un-dressing Chamber,' the place where visitors to Her Ladyship's dungeon are divested of their garments and properly... prepared for their visits."  She shifted her smiling gaze from Mel's gagged and wide-eyed face... to her goldenrod bikini-top... then her goldenrod bikini-bottom.  "I'm sure Miss will agree that her bathing ensemble requires a thorough rinsing to remove any residual chlorine from Her Ladyship's pool, and the sooner the better.  I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't take care of that for her immediately."

"MRRRF!" Mel exclaimed and resumed her futile struggles, tugging on the cuffs and writhing on the hard tabletop.

"Not to worry, Miss," Elfrida purred.  "It's all part of the service at Bastillon Cottage."

Still smiling (and with Mel still struggling), the maid reached out, grasped the ends of the bow securing Mel's bikini-top behind her neck, then slowly pulled it apart.

"Mrrrf!" Mel complained (whined).

The bow behind Mel's upper-back was next.  Elfrida reached under the blonde's wiggling body, slowly tugged it apart... then lifted the bikini-top away, exposing Mel's ample, shapely. and perfectly proportioned breasts!  Her nipples were thus revealed to be rigid in... embarrassment?  Mortification?  Discomfiture?  Mel's nips were bashful.  Go figure.

"Nrrrrrm!"

The bows of Mel's bikini-bottom just above her hips were easy pickings (so to speak) for Elfrida's fingers, and Mel's attempts to evade said fingers by thrashing about and rolling said hips proved as futile as her efforts to evade her boobs being exposed had been.  Inevitably, the two remaining bows slid open... and the bikini-bottom was tugged away.  Mel was now totally nude!

"Mrrrpfh!"

Elfrida gazed at Mel's breasts... and her lady-bits... and her light-brown triangular pubic bush.  The margins of Mel's "Lady Garden" were all sharply defined, and if she thinned said bush it was never by much.  Her personal foliage was arguably luxurious; however, it was not French, meaning overly luxurious.

Also, Mel's body as a whole was uniformly tan, with only a hint of triangular and slightly lighter zones centered on her nipples and crotch.  Evidently, Elfrida surmised, Miss Melody regularly basked in the sun while au-naturel.  Either that or she occasionally made use of a tanning bed.  Elfrida made a mental note to ask her about it... when Her Ladyship's guest wasn't spreadeagled on a bondage table and tightly gagged.

Mel watched (incredulously) as, clutching her goldenrod bikini in one hand, the maid spun on her sensibly-shod heels, strode to the chamber door, opened said door, then paused in the threshold to smile at the naked, spreadeagled, and gagged prisoner-of-the-table.

"I'll take this to the laundry," Elfrida said, waving bikini, "together with your traveling clothes.  Then I'll finish the unpacking."  She dropped yet another smiling curtsy (which Mel considered to be infuriating, impertinent, and incredibly cute), then stepped back and pulled the door closed.  Thud.

Alone in the Undress/Dressing Chamber, naked, spreadeagled, gagged, and helpless, Mel blinked above her gag, staring at the closed door.  She'd always considered "Be careful what you wish for" to be a tired cliché, but if there was ever a time and place when and where it was appropriate... this was it.

◄

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

►