by Van © 2026
		Chapter 4

The first week of Dr. Jill's sabbatical (and Mel's graduation vacation) passed quickly.

Lady Clifton's jet lag remedy, that Jill and Mel should strictly refrain from napping and scrupulously follow the local circadian cycle seemed to have worked like the proverbial charm.  By all appearances Her Ladyship's American guests were fully recovered by the evening of their second day in Lancashire.

Mel suspected that total discombobulation (with naked bondage) might also be a valid cure for jet lag, but she hadn't shared her opinion with either Dr. Jill or Lady Clifton.  In any case, she'd been so excited during her Almost Dungeon Adventure that napping had been totally out of the question, even while she'd been languishing, so maybe staying awake was the palliative strategy responsible for her rapid and easy recovery.

Also, after Mel was released from her involuntary leather-enforced hug with Elfrida-the-Super-Cute-Maid by Skylar-the-Super-Cute-Wicked-Maid in the very early hours of her first night at the Cottage—day had followed day and night had followed night for a full week without so much as a hint that further "punishment" was on the way, much less the promised dungeon tour.  The lull in the action was greatly frustrating Mel's... curiosity.  Even Elfie had refused to expedite matters, and Mel had asked (begged) nicely.  Frustrating indeed.

In any case, Mel hadn't mentioned anything about bondage, languishing, and the alleged existence of a Bastillon Cottage Dungeon to her mentor.  ('By the way, Doc, Lady Clifton, our gracious and gorgeous hostess and your super-hot and generous benefactor has a subterranean dungeon and kinkiness is afoot!'  Like that conversation was gonna happen.)
 
And speaking of Associate Professor Jill Walker, the also gorgeous blonde was focused like an archeological laser beam on The Project.  Jill had examined Dr. Russell's summaries of her studies of the Clifton family archives and tentatively agreed with Lucy's identification of potential dig sites, but she was keeping an open mind.  Together with her trusty but inexperienced assistant (and lowly lackey) "Melvin," Jill had traipsed all over the fields and pastures of the estate and was anxious to actually start digging!

In the days before ground penetrating radar (GPR), starting a dig would have meant taking an educated guess and sinking a test trench, but as Lady Clifton fully intended to invest in a sweet GPR setup and had scheduled a product demonstration at the offices of a firm in Leeds, commencing excavation was premature.  Also, there's a lot more to running a successful dig than moving dirt.

For one thing, Jill (and Mel) needed to establish a solid administrative framework.  Files were opened on workstations and laptops, spreadsheets created, and lists of equipment and supplies compiled and ordered.  Also, many hours were spent squinting at Ordnance Survey maps (the UK equivalent of USGS maps) and aerial photos from the drone survey Her Ladyship had commissioned.

However, it wasn't all work.  Lady Clifton insisted that her entire household should exercise on a daily basis, including guests.  Jill (and Mel) had agreed.  Running trails, the greenhouse pool, and a fully equipped gym were available, as well as regular yoga and tai chi classes taught by Lady Clifton herself.  There was also a riding stable, but neither American had spent any time in the saddle.  They were interested in lessons, but for now they stuck to the trails, the pool, the gym, and Her Ladyship's classes.

It was clear that Lady Clifton had always been a fitness fanatic and she had the body to prove it, but for Mel there was another issue: was the Dowager Countess Cumberdale also a bondage fanatic?

If Mel didn't already know the answer, she would have scoffed at the very question.  Lady Clifton was friendly, polite, and in no way threatening or sinister, and the same went for Cousin Bailey and Skylar and Elfrida, the resident maids.  Go figure.

The point was, nobody snuck into Mel's bedroom at night and tied her up.  Nobody waited 'til she was strolling down a deserted hallway, ambushed her, and dragged her away.  It was... frustrating?  Well... maybe... but mainly it was unexpected; and the fact remained that Mel had been promised a tour of The Dungeon.  How long were they going to make her wait?  If Dr. Jill wasn't keeping her so busy (and they weren't having so much professional fun), Mel might have considered tying up herself at night, but so far she'd been able to keep her natural curiosity in check.

Anyway, at the start of the second week of the project, Lady Clifton and Dr. Jill departed on the aforementioned two (or possibly three) day trip to Leeds for a demonstration of GPR equipment and newly developed signal processing software.

Mel had wanted to tag along, but Jill-the-Tyrant had vetoed the proposition.  Mel needed to remain at the Cottage so she could receive, unpack, and inventory the multitude of dig supplies that were already starting to arrive, such as bundles of wooden stakes, rolls of brightly colored surveying tape and cord, trowels, brushes, dental tools, tents, tarps, etc., etc.  Mel suffered like the Innocent Martyr that she was, but nobody was fooled.  "I've always wanted to see Leeds!" she'd whined at one point, but nobody had been fooled by that either.

The rising sun was still low on the horizon as Her Ladyship's chauffeur-driven luxury town-car disappeared down the driveway.  Mel, Dr. Lucy, and Bailey finished waving goodbye, then turned and reentered Bastillon Cottage.

"Let's go for a little run," Lucy suggested to Mel as they mounted the front steps.

"Now?" Mel frowned.  (She was playing hard-to-get.)

"Now," Lucy confirmed, "before the sun gets any higher."

Mel shrugged.  "Why not?"

Lucy turned to Bailey.  "Would you like to come along?"

The 40-something blonde politely declined.  "I need to answer my e-mail and update the household accounts, then I think I might take a swim."

Lucy shifted her smile back to Mel.  "I'll meet you by the kitchen garden in ten minutes."

The 20-something blonde shrugged again.  "Okey-dokey."

As it turned out, on this particular occasion, when Lucy said "a little run" she'd meant four miles!  Mel had been up to the challenge, despite Lucy's longer stride, but it was more than she usually ran for daily exercise.

Mel had worn her usual running outfit: well-broken-in white trail-runners, royal-blue baggy and very abbreviated running shorts, and a black sports-bra.

Lucy, on the other hand, had worn well-broken-in brown trail-runners, heather-gray full length tights, and a moss-green long-sleeve leotard with a modest décolletage.  The coverage was to protect her fair skin from the sun, of course, and the colors chosen to complement the copper-red curls she'd gathered into the ponytail that had swayed and bobbed as she ran.

Mel's tousled flaxen bob had simply fluttered and bounced.

That was then.  This was the post-run/post-cool-down now.  The runners had made their sweaty way to Her Ladyship's gym, stripped off their running costumes, rinsed off in the shower of the attached bath, then entered Her Ladyship's dry sauna.

The space was typically Scandinavian with all interior surfaces clad in cedar, two tiers of benches and backrests, and lights with thin cedar shades; however, the heater in the center was Modern in style and took the form of a meter-tall cylindrical cage of stainless steel wire with a dome top closely confining a neatly and tightly arranged cairn of fist-sized and well-rounded river rocks.  The waterproof heating elements were completely hidden somewhere within.  There were also the traditional wooden bucket, ladle, and water faucet with a wooden handle.

Fortunately, someone had had the foresight to turn on the hotbox well before Lucy and Mel returned from their run.  The sauna's humidity was a solid zero and its air temperature hovering somewhere around waaay-too-hot.  The overall ambiance was noon on a balmy July day in the middle of the Sahara, with subdued and relaxing amber-tinted lighting.

The ginger historian and the blond wannabe archeologist selected and wet down benches and backrests, settled down, and willed themselves to relax.  It wasn't difficult.  A minute passed... then two... and soon their pores had opened and once again they were sweating.

Suddenly, the sauna door opened, admitting a brief pulse of relatively frigid air and a very naked and dripping wet Bailey Lockhart, obviously fresh from her own preparatory shower.

"You took your swim?" Lucy inquired.

"Twenty laps," Bailey confirmed as she wet a section of bench and backrest, then anointed the caged tower of rocks as well.  It hisssssed in outrage.  A cloud of steam filled the sauna... but had more-or-less dissipated by the time Bailey had settled her nude butt on the damp bench, leaned back against the damp backrest, and closed her eyes.

The two blondes and the ginger basked in companionable silence for an additional three minutes... by which time Bailey's tan, smooth skin had dried from her shower... and was now wet again as she began to sweat.  The blonde had a way to go before she'd be as flushed and glistening as Lucy and her young cousin, but she was getting there.

Suddenly...

"When is Lady Clifton going to let her start playing in the dungeon?" Lucy inquired.

Mel's blue peepers popped open, then she started blinking as sweat stung her eyes!  Her?  Who-her?  Does she mean me?!  Dr. Lucy is in on the kinkiness?!

"The maids are wondering the same thing," Bailey purred, "but Her Ladyship is of the opinion that 'Melvin' is not yet sufficiently experienced to fully appreciate the dungeon and its furnishings.  It's unfortunate."

"Unfortunate," Lucy agreed.

Her eyes still wide and blinking away sweat, Mel looked from face to face.  Bailey and Lucy's eyes were still closed and their smiles sweaty and serene.

"There's also the issue of Dr. Walker," Bailey continued.  "Her Ladyship suspects Jill is a complete babe-in-the-woods with it comes to bondage, and I concur.  We don't want to alarm her by doing despicable things to her young protegé before she's ready to join in on the fun."  She then reached out and gave Mel's closest knee a gentle squeeze, all without opening her eyes more than a crack.

"Eek!" Mel gasped as she flinched in response to the contact.  She'd been trying to say something, but her throat and brain weren't cooperating.  They appeared to be vapor-locked by the heat (or something).

"It's probably best to go slowly," Lucy sighed, "as you did with me."  She then opened a hatch built into the bench beside her and produced a plastic bottle of Volvic® mineral water, cracked its cap, took a swig, then handed it to Mel.

Mel snatched the bottle, took a healthy guzzle, then (her eyes still wide) offered it to her cousin.

"No thank you, dear," Bailey responded with a warm smile.  "I just got here."

Mel handed the bottle back to Lucy, who restored the cap and returned it to the hidden cooler.  Meanwhile, Mel was still deciding how to respond, or what questions to ask, or what objections to make, or whether or not she should run shrieking from the sauna.

Lucy smiled at Mel.  "Are we right?" she inquired.  "Is Dr. Walker a bondage novice?"

It was a direct question!  Mel had no choice to answer!  "Hrrumpfh!  Uh...  Yeah...  I mean...  I think so.  I'm pretty sure."

Bailey and Lucy exchanged smiles, then leaned back and closed their eyes again.

"You, on the other hand," Bailey stated, "as a Delta-Iota-Delta sister, have extensive experience with duct tape bondage."

"Uh... yeah," Mel admitted, then started blinking again.  Also, she noticed that at some point her heart rate had become inexplicably elevated.

"What about rope?" Bailey continued.

"Uh... a little," Mel answered, then ran her fingers through her wet hair.  "By which I mean... no... not really."

"Leather?" Bailey asked.

"No," Mel responded, "not 'til I got here, anyway."

Bailey and Lucy's smiles widened.

Mel was unsure whether she should be offended or embarrassed, which meant she should either be flushing in anger or blushing in mortification; but as she was already overheated and dripping with sweat it was all moot.

"Her Ladyship and Jill are both away," Lucy noted, stating the obvious.

"They are," Bailey agreed, "making this the perfect opportunity to expand Melody's horizons and advance the cause of convincing Lady Clifton that she's ready to begin playing down below."  She turned her head, opened her eyes, and beamed at Mel.  "What do you know about 'box-ties,' darling?"

"Huh?" Mel began blinking in earnest.  "No!  I mean nothing!  I mean... what?"

"Are we done here?" Lucy inquired.  "I think I'm done here."

"I'm not," Bailey responded, "but I can always take a sauna this afternoon.  Let's go."

Then, acting together in conspiratorial unity, Bailey and Dr. Lucy, grinning evilly, grabbed Mel, and dragged her from the sauna!

"Hey!  No!  Lemme go!" Mel objected as she struggled to escape (sort of).

The flustered, naked, and sweat-drenched Mel was a slippery subject, but her equally naked and sweat-drenched captors seemed to be up to the task, and for some reason Mel's evasion efforts were not only ineffective but also didn't appear to be especially strenuous.  It was almost as if she was offering only token resistance; but, of course, that would be absurd.

The ginger historian and the blond Lady's Companion "forced" Mel to take a quick shower... then toweled her off, all the while easily controlling her pathetic struggles and ignoring her whining complaints.  They then took turns holding the squirming Mel close (with a hand-gag to cut down on the noise) while the other toweled herself dry.

As far as Mel was concerned, the way Bailey and Dr. Lucy were callously and easily controlling her squirming self was both mortifying and irksome.  On the other hand, things were finally happening!  Being naked and helpless and under the control of a pair of gorgeous and naked older women was definitely progress on the kinkyness front (even if one of the handlers was her cousin).

And then—Bailey and Dr. Lucy dialed up the kinkiness!  Next to a set of Art-Nouveau wooden shelves laden with neatly folded towels was a tall Art-Nouveau rack with several white linen robes on hangers, and all the robes had long, narrow, white linen belts that Mel soon discovered were entirely suitable for bondage purposes.

With Dr. Jill holding a squirming and complaining Mel more-or-less in place, Bailey set to work, and in a surprisingly short time and with minimal fuss—"Hey!  Nooo!  Stooop!  Mrrrf!"—the grinning blonde used a belt to bind Mel's wrists together behind her back, a second belt to bind her elbows together (also behind her back, of course), then, stuffed a folded washcloth into Mel's mouth, and secured the resulting fluffy terrycloth bit-gag with a third cotton belt!

Then, as Mel wiggled, squirmed, tugged on her bound wrists, bent forward at waist, stomped her bare feet, and confirmed that her bonds were inescapable... Bailey and Dr. Lucy donned cotton robes, cinched the belts around their waists, and smiled broadly.  Mel's traitorous cousin and the suddenly sinister gorgeous ginger historian then strolled to the washbasin and mirror area and brushed and combed their hair.

Panting through her gag and glowering at the villainous pair as they primped in the mirrors, Mel turned and eyed the open door leading back to the gym and considered making a break for it.  She knew she'd probably be able to patter away before her Nefarious Kidnappers could react, but then it would be a footrace, and either she'd make it far enough ahead to find someplace to hide so she could work on slipping out of her tight cotton bonds, or she'd encounter one of the maids, and (assuming the maid wasn't Skylar or Elfrida) she'd be rescued... probably.

But then what would happen?  Would the staff be scandalized?  Would it eventually cause trouble and/or embarrassment for Lady Clifton?  Or were the non-live-in staff as kinky as Bailey, Skylar, Elfrida, and (as it turned out) Dr. Lucy?

Mel couldn't decide what she should do... and then it was too late.  Bailey and Dr. Lucy had finished dealing with their own hair, and now they were busying themselves by making Mel's tousled blond bob somewhat less tousled.

"Mrrrm!" Mel complained, scowled from face to smiling face, and stoically endured the involuntary grooming.

Coiffuring complete, Bailey and Dr. Lucy dragged (led) Mel from the bath... the gym... out into the hallway... and to a nearby closet.  As it turned out, the back of the closet concealed yet another secret door that led into the Bastillon Cottage network of narrow secret passages!

This time Mel wasn't hooded, so she was "free" to appreciate the stone floor, walls, and ceilings.  They took the occasional left or right hand turn... and passed the occasional solid wooden panel Mel suspected might be the backside of yet another secret door!  It was spooky and terrifying (by which Mel meant spooky and very cool)!

The dim and only marginally adequate lighting took the form of more of the "Medieval" LED sconces she'd already encountered down below.  The floor under her bare feet (meaning their bare feet, as Mel's handlers were also barefoot) was smooth and clean.  The captive was sure that eventually the soles of her (their) feet would be filthy and require washing, but it was obvious that somebody dragged a broom or vacuum cleaner through the secret passages on a semi-regular basis.  She hoped it was Skylar and Elfrida that got stuck with cleaning the narrow corridors... maybe naked and in slave-chains.  They deserved it... and the mental image was delicious.

They passed through a secret door, into what Mel recognized as the first floor service area, then to the original secret door Mel had encountered on her first day at the Cottage, the one that led down to the dungeon!

Mel blinked and her heart pounded as they passed through the Original Secret Door, closed it behind them, then descended the stone stairs.  Was she finally going to see what was on the other side of the iron gate in the wall of iron bars that had previously blocked access to whatever Sinister Secrets were waiting beyond?  And if so... was she ready?

As it turned out, the iron gate was closed (and Mel assumed locked), but the iron-banded and bolt-studded timber door leading into the dungeon's Undressing/Dressing Chamber was not locked.  Bailey opened the door and Dr. Lucy led their reluctant prisoner across the threshold.

It was just as Mel remembered from her previous visit.  The bondage-table, the leather cuffs, the Medieval lighting fixtures and iron rings and chains dangling overhead, the hand-cranked winches between the cabinets... everything.  Eyes wide (meaning wide again) Mel stared at the table.

Meanwhile, Bailey had closed and latched the chamber door—Thud.  Click.—padded to one of the cabinets, and now was padding to the table with something long, thin, and iron in her hand.  It was either some sort of tool or a very hefty key with a long shaft and simple wards.  Then, Mel and Dr. Lucy watched as Bailey worked her way around the table, inserted the tool/key into the tracks near each of the leather cuffs, gave it a full turn, then lifted the cuffs and their dull steel mounting mechanisms from the tracks.

Mel and her handler continued watching as Bailey returned the cuffs and their still attached mountings to the cabinet, as well as the tool/key.  All the while Dr. Lucy's right hand was resting on Mel's left shoulder, apparently to make sure she didn't make a break for the door, somehow get it open, then scamper away.  Mel found Lucy's hand to be both strong and warm, by the way, but, of course, she'd already known that.

Anyway, the bondage-table was now... a bondage table.  The embedded tracks were missing their cuffs, but the multiple iron rings still dangled around the table's periphery, ready to act as lashing points.

Bailey opened another cabinet, gathered a generous armload of neatly bundled coils of thin hemp rope, then carried them to the table and let them drop.  Thwack.  She then smiled at her young cousin.

"Now," the gorgeous, grinning, robe-clad, 40-something blonde purred, "consider this your formal introduction to rope-bondage.  We'll start with... Our Friend the Box-tie."

Mel braced for what was coming.  She thought she already had a pretty good idea of what constituted a "box-tie," but apparently she was about to get an actual lesson, whether she wanted it or not!

Then, Dr. Lucy released Mel's shoulder, took a step to the side, released the belt and removed her robe, and tossed it away!  Now totally and gloriously nude, she padded closer to Bailey and the table.

Mel started blinking again.  Wait!  What?  Dr. Lucy is the victim?! ...I mean subject?! ...not me?!

"Watch closely," Bailey ordered as she selected a coil of the thin hemp and prepared it for use.

Mel willed herself to stop blinking.  Okay.  I can watch.  Dr. Lucy is eminently watchable.

Baily set to work, making sure she was out of the way as much as possible and turning Lucy's body so the relevant portions of the ginger's anatomy were always in Mel's astonished view.

The final result: Lucy's arms were folded behind her back with her hands cupping their opposite elbows—a neat band of multiple rope strands lashed her forearms together—horizontal rope bands pinned her upper-arms against her torso, passing above and below her generous, firm, smooth, pale, and peach-pink boobs (and ever-so-slightly squeezing them together)—diagonal twin strands yoked her equally firm, smooth, pale, and peach-pink shoulders, anchoring the box-tie from above—and finally, a horizontal band of rope encircled her thin waist, anchoring the tie from below.  In addition, everything (or everything important) was cinched tight.  Mel could tell none of the historian's bonds would shift, no matter how forcefully she struggled, squirmed, twisted, and/or writhed.

Just as I thought, Mel realized.  It's basically the same as how I tricked—I mean persuaded—Dr. Jill to tape me up, back at her bungalow... before all this.  More complicated, but I suppose that's 'cause it's rope and not tape.  So... it's officially called a 'box-tie.'  Cool.

"Note how all elements of the tie have uniform tension," Bailey said, shifting into lecture mode.  "That's why I slid a pair of fingers between the ropes and Dr. Russell's skin as I positioned and tightened each doubled strand."

Yeah, and the fact that it let you constantly and repeatedly cop a feel had nothing to do with it, Mel mused.  That said (or thought) she had to admit that all of Lucy's rope bondage lightly dimpled the naked ginger historian's skin (firm, smooth, pale, and peach-pink) in exactly the same manner.  Tight but not too tight, as far as Mel could tell, and all to exactly the same degree.

"Properly balancing tension requires practice and only comes with experience," Bailey continued, then smiled at her young cousin and fellow blonde.  "Now... you've watched a box-tie being tied.  Let's reinforce the lesson by letting you feel exactly what it's like as a box-tie is tied."

Huh? Mel thought (profoundly), then watched as Bailey selected another bundle of thin hemp and released its securing hitch.  She's gonna box-tie me?  With rope?!

Bailey continued smiling as she finished preparing the coil for use...  Mel blinked above her gag a few times... then Bailey pounced!

When the proverbial dust settled, Mel found herself box-tied in exactly the same manner as Dr. Lucy.  This had required her cousin to work around Mel's already existing robe-sash wrist and elbow bonds, but the 40-something blonde had proved herself up to the challenge, removing Mel's robe-sash-bonds as she replaced them with thin rope.  Mel was never free enough to effectively contest the sash-to-rope transition.

Lucy and Mel were now standing side-by-side, identically bound from waist to shoulders, naked and helpless.  The only significant difference (aside from the older ginger's height and fair complexion and the younger blonde's tan skin) was Mel's gag.  Also, Lucy was still smiling.  Mel was not... or might have been if the gag wasn't enforcing an ambiguous grimace.

Mel twisted and squirmed, weakly testing Bailey's handiwork.  As far as she'd been able to follow, her cousin had followed exactly the same process binding her that she'd used on Dr. Lucy, right down to using her fingers to test the tension of the ropes by slipping them under the ropes and gliding them against her skin).  Anyway, Mel was totally helpless.  The key knots were far removed from her fluttering and groping fingers.  Cousin Bailey had done a good job.

As they were removed, Bailey had tossed Mel's wrist and elbow sashes towards the closed chamber door and they were now a tangled mass on the stone floor.  Mel reflected that at some point somebody was going to have to return them to the gym and reunite them with their robes and/or put them in the laundry.  She assumed the task would fall to Skylar and/or Elfrida.  It probably wouldn't be any of the "vanilla" maids... if they were vanilla.  (Mel assumed vanilla status would include not being cleared for kinky cleanup activities.)

Oh-by-the-way, there were still several neat bundles of unused coils of thin rope still resting on the bondage table.  Also, Bailey had padded to another of the chamber's cabinets, and this time was returning with an elaborate leather gag!  It was the same brown color as the hateful panel-gag Mel had endured during her first visit to Her Ladyship's Undressing/Dressing Chamber, but this one was comprised of a lot of thin straps and was much more complicated.

Bailey smiled at Lucy.  "Kneel," she ordered, pointing to the stone floor.

Mel watched as Dr. Lucy returned Bailey's smile, rolled her eyes, then dropped to her knees with surprising grace.  Mel continued watching as her cousin used the gag to render the naked, box-tied, and kneeling naked and box-tied historian effectively mute.  It quickly became obvious the straps constituted a head-cage or head-harness-panel-gag!

Lucy's glorious ginger curls were now gathered behind her head in a loose ponytail enforced by a brass ring that was part of the harness—her mouth was plugged by a spoon-shaped leather pad that depressed her tongue and effectively filled her mouth—a lightly padded panel pressed against her lips and lower face—a symmetrical web of thin leather straps passed to either side of her nose, crossed her forehead, and crisscrossed under her chin.  Finally, a small brass D-ring dangled and flopped at the crown of her head.

Bailey stepped back and smiled at her captives.

Naked, box-tied, and gagged, Mel and Lucy gazed back at their captor... turned their gagged heads to look at each other... then turned back to Bailey.

"I think the great virtue of the box-tie," Bailey lectured, "is not only that it's inescapable and renders a damsel easy to control, but at the same time is, shall we say, 'comfortable.'  Also, it can be enured for extended periods of time without difficulty."

Mel twisted and squirmed in her bonds and glared at her cousin.  That's easy for you to say, she silently fumed.  Cousin Bailey was being way too smug.

"As an added bonus," Bailey continued, "the box-tie serves as an excellent base for crafting more involved bondage."  She turned to the table, selected yet another coil of rope, and prepared it for use.

Mel was mesmerized by the flopping and slithering hemp in Bailey's hands.  What's she gonna do?  She glanced her fellow prisoner again.  And will it be to Dr. Lucy... or little ol' me?

"Lucy, darling," Bailey purred, "be a dear and hop up onto the table."

Mel heaved a gagged sigh.  She wasn't exactly relieved, that would be ungracious, but she was glad the fates (and Cousin Bailey) had granted her an immediate reprieve (however temporary).

Lucy gracefully stood, then managed to hop up onto the table.

Bailey smiled at Mel.  "Watch closely.  This is going to be very instructive.  Also, don't even think about sneaking away while I'm concentrating on my rope-work.  Try and you'll regret it."

Mel blinked in naked, box-tied, and cotton-gagged innocence.  How rude!  Why would I even think about escaping?  The very picture of a naked, bound, and gagged student, Mel watched as her bondage instructor set to work.

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Chapter 3

Chapter 5

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