by Van © 2026
		Chapter 5

By the time Cousin Bailey was finished with the second phase of her demonstration, Dr. Lucy's predicament had expanded from a simple box-tie to a full-body-bondage-table-extravaganza!

The gorgeous ginger's legs were lashed tightly together at her upper-thighs, mid-thighs, just above her knees, just below her knees, her mid-lower-legs (encircling her shins and calves), and her ankles!

Mel could tell that Bailey, the grinning blonde "bondage instructor" responsible, had maintained the same uniform tension she's attained with Lucy's box-tie.  That is, the fair, smooth, peach-pink skin of her subject's legs was dimpled by thin hemp rope to exactly the same degree as that imposed by the ropes binding her upper body.  Also, all elements of her leg bonds were cinched between said legs, tightening the bands of rope down and making sure nothing could shift around and thereby generate slack.

Bailey had then deployed yet more rope to lash Lucy to the table.  Doubled strands crisscrossed Lucy's already helpless form, traveling between the iron rings dangling from the periphery of the table and across her supine body; and it wasn't just a simple net or web.  The table-ropes were hitched through Lucy's box-tie and leg bonds, rendering all the ropes into a single tight, complex, coordinated matrix.

Bailey had then added two arguably unnecessary and/or superfluous and/or cruel refinements:

(1.) She'd hitched a doubled rope through the D-ring at the crown of Lucy's head-harness-panel-gag, passed it off through the iron ring dangling from the center ring on the edge of the head of the table, pulled out most of the slack, then tied an elegant knot  The result was unarguably restrictive, but it left Lucy's head a little "freedom" to roll and thrash around.

(2.) She then made a quick trip to one of the cabinets for a length of thin cord and used it to tie Lucy's big toes together!  Why?  In Mel's opinion her older cousin was just being a pitiless and sadistic bitch.  There was no other reasonable explanation.

And speaking of Mel, she'd watched every dreadful (and fascinating) thing Bailey had done to Dr. Lucy with keen interest.  In the first place, both the process and the final result were educational.  Also, Dr. Lucy was a primo-first-rate-damsel-in-distress.  Watching Bailey tie her up, then tie her to the table had been very inspirational.  Finally, if Cousin Bailey was being this much of a wicked meanie to the ginger historian... what was she gonna to do next?  Specifically, what was she gonna do to poor little naked, box-tied, gagged, and helpless Cousin Melody?

And speaking of evilly grinning, cruel, sadistic, wicked, and mean 40-something blondes... having dealt with Lucy's big toes, Bailey positioned herself to the side of the table opposite the box-tied but not table-tied Mel, rested the palm of her left hand on Lucy's smooth, firm, pale, peach-pink tummy, directly atop Lucy's decidedly cute innie bellybutton, then shifted back into lecture mode.

"Now, what you see before you is a somewhat elaborate but nonetheless straightforward example of a table-tie," Bailey stated; "however, refinements are possible.  Let me describe something Lady Clifton did to me once, on this very table."

Huh? Mel thought as she blinked a couple of times at this revelation.  Her freakin' Ladyship tied freakin' Bailey to the freakin' table the same way freakin' Bailey just tied freakin' Lucy to the table?!

"Most of my bonds were identical to Dr. Russell's," Bailey continued.  "I was box-tied and leg-bound in the same manner; however, I was only bound to the table from my hips up..."  She gracefully gestured at Lucy's legs.  "There was an exception: a pair of diagonal ropes linked my ankles to the foot of the table.  There was sufficient slack to allow me to lift my legs something like, oh, four inches, but insufficient slack to bend my knees.  That meant to raise my legs I had to use my abdominal muscles in an extended leg-lift.  Do you understand?"

Mel nodded.

Bailey then transferred her hand from Lucy's tummy to her left breast... and gave the nipple a slight pinch.

Lucy winced in response, but otherwise remained still (which, of course, was more-or-less her only option).

"Next," Lucy resumed," she used a pair of clover-clamps and a length of braided cord to link my nipples to my bound toes..."  She pointed upwards.  "...by way of a pair of the overhead rings.  You do know what 'clover-clamps' are, don't you, darling?"

Bailey's smile was focused on her, so Mel assumed the question was for her.  She nodded, somewhat frantically.  Yes, she did know what clover-clamps were, even though she had zero experience with the spring-loaded nipple-pinching mechanical atrocities that squeezed tighter when something tugged on their lightweight connecting chain.

"Good," Bailey purred.  "Next, Her Ladyship placed a three-inch wooden cube under my heels, removed all slack in the toes-to-nipples cord—just enough to start stretching my nipples, actually—then tied a final knot between my toes."  She lowered her smile to Lucy's gagged face.  "It was horrible.  If I wiggled, squirmed, or moved at all... I was in danger of dislodging the block!  Then, my leg and abdominal muscles would be the only things preventing my nipples and breasts from being painfully and significantly stretched and pinched.  And with that... she left me.  I won't tell you for how long.  Like I said... horrible."

Mel blinked again, then gazed down at Dr. Lucy's helpless body.  What her cousin had done to the naked ginger historian was cruel... but what Bailey claimed Lady Clifton had done to her was worse, far worse... if Cousin Bailey was telling the truth, of course.  Maybe she's just tryin' to freak me out, Mel reasoned.  If so... it's working.

"Relax, darling," Bailey said.  Her eyes remained on Lucy but she was addressing her young cousin.  "That was 'advanced play' and well beyond what I'm going to do to you next."

Then, before Mel could do more then offer token resistance and register a pathetic objection—"Mrrrpfh!"—Bailey bundled up Mel's former sash-bonds and Lucy's discarded robe, took a firm grip on Mel's box-tie-bonds, and dragged her naked, box-tied, and cloth-gagged young cousin from the chamber.

As the iron-banded and bolt-studded timber door closed Mel had one final view of Dr. Lucy weakly squirming on the table—Thud!—then Cousin Bailey dragged (led) her up the stone staircase.

Mel's blue eyes were wide above her gag, she was panting for breath, and her heart was pounding.  Poor Dr. Lucy! she silently commiserated.

Bailey continued smiling her wicked smile as they padded up the smooth, hard steps.

By this time Mel was more-or-less familiar with the floor plan of Bastillon Cottage; however, she was only slightly familiar with its network of Secret Passages.  Therefore, it was something of a surprise when they emerged from the hidden labyrinth in the immediate vicinity of... Lady Clifton's bedchamber!

"Mrrrf?"  Mel knew Her Ladyship was away in beautiful downtown Leeds (together with Dr. Jill), but nonetheless the proximity of the noble bedroom was distressing... or something.

Oh-by-the-way, the bedchamber's large, decoratively carved door was wide open and the unmistakable sound of a vacuum cleaner was droning from within.

Still under Cousin Bailey's firm control, Mel was led (dragged) across the threshold and into the posh, luxurious, and stylishly-decorated bedroom.  Naked, box-tied, and cotton-bit-cleave-gagged, Mel blinked and beheld... Elfrida and Skylar, domestically resplendent in their black and white maid uniforms and hard at work.  Skylar was using a tack cloth to clean the books, knickknacks, and shelves of a bookcase... while Elfrida was sliding a cordless vacuum cleaner across the plush carpet.

"Skylar and Elfrida are using Her Ladyship's absence to give her bedchamber a deep cleaning," Bailey explained as she dropped the bundled robe and sashes on the floor next to the door.

Oh, Mel silently responded. 

Meanwhile, Skylar had stopped dusting the shelf, Elfrida had turned off the vacuum, and they were both staring at Mel... which the naked, box-tied, gagged, and blushing junior blonde found to be not at all surprising.  Mel was sure that if their situations were reversed she would stare at the maids.  The maids in question dropped simultaneous curtsies... then went back to staring at Mel.

"We're almost finished, Mistress," Skylar said.  "Is there something we can do for you?"

"Yes," Bailey responded, then led (dragged) Mel near the foot of Her Ladyship's ginormous four-poster canopy bed and encouraged her to sit on the carpet by unceremoniously forcing Mel to plant her naked butt on the carpet).

"Mrrrp!" Mel complained, then watched as Cousin Bailey knelt, reached under the bed skirt, and dragged a long, clattering chain of steel links attached to a steel collar out from under Her Ladyship's bed!  Then—"Mrrrf!"— Bailey locked the collar around Mel's neck!  Click!

Naked, box-tied, gagged, and now chained by the neck to Lady Clifton's bed, Mel squirmed and struggled in her inescapable bonds... then lifted her chin (defiantly and/or pathetically) and glowered at her audience of three... all of whom were now standing reasonably close and smiling down at her in a disquieting and overtly appreciative manner.

"Dr. Russell and I have decided that Miss Melvin is ready to join the Bastillon Cottage Gang," Bailey announced.

"And Her Ladyship agrees?" Skylar asked (in a respectful but skeptical manner).

"Let me worry about Her Ladyship," Bailey responded.

"That's easy for you to say," Elfrida said in a near whisper... then her blue eyes popped wide behind her glasses and she dropped a quick curtsy, "Mistress."

Mel was following the discussion in the manner of a very interested spectator at a very important tennis match, turning her gagged and wide-eyed head from speaker to speaker.  This caused her collar chain to clink and rattle, but only a little.

"Anyway," Bailey continued, "as you lot will be Melvin's fellow junior gang sisters, I'm delegating the rest of this introductory 'Our Friend the Box-tie' lesson to you.  Finish your cleaning..."  She made a vague gesture to indicate the surrounding bedchamber.  "...then enhance Sister Melvin's helplessness and spend the rest of the day introducing her to the fellowship aspect of Gang membership."

"Yes, Mistress," the grinning maids said in unison as they dropped simultaneous curtsies.

In Mel's poorly informed opinion—After all, what did she know about the "Bastillon Cottage Gang" and its rules?—the maids didn't seem to be particularly upset or resentful regarding Bailey's instructions.  Go figure.

Bailey nodded, spun on her bare feet and padded to the bedchamber door, released the sash of her robe, pulled it off, and dropped it atop Lucy's former robe and Mel's former wrist and elbow sash-bonds.  "All of this requires laundering," Bailey explained, pointing at the pile of robes and sashes.  Then, with that observation/order the arguably gorgeous naked 40-something blonde passed through the open door and closed it behind her.

Mel was surprised that her cousin seemed to have no qualms whatsoever about wandering the halls of Bastillon Cottage in the nude, but mainly she was concentrating on the friendly but overtly predatory manner in which Skylar and Elfrida were smiling down at her.  The cliché of gloating cats and a trapped little mouse came to mind.

"Well," Skylar said after several very long seconds, "finish the vacuuming, I'll finish the bookcase, dresser, and dressing table... then we'll see to Sister Melvin's needs."

Elfrida nodded as she smiled down at Mel.  "Don't worry, Miss," she said.  "We'll take very good care of you."

"Very good care indeed," Skylar purred, then the maids returned to their respective tasks.

Mel blinked her eyes a few times, then sighed and sprawled into a "comfortable" position in the carpet.  I hope Elfie's already vacuumed this spot, she thought as she snuggled her naked and bound body against the plush pile.  I wouldn't want to put her to any trouble.

Lucy had been languishing for what she estimated was just shy of a full hour when the chamber door opened and the author of her naked, box-tied, leg-tied, table-tied, and harness/panel-gagged predicament returned to the scene of her despicable albeit expertly rigged crime.

The flaxen-haired criminal in question had changed into one of her typical casual-about-the-Cottage business-friendly ensembles: stylish high-heel pumps, pencil skirt, flattering blouse, and a smart jacket.  The blouse was white, the pumps black, and the skirt and jacket in compatible shades of gray.

"Melody is safe and snug in the loving hands of Lady Clifton's favorite maids," Bailey purred, her lips curled in an attractive and ever-so-slightly sinister smile, "so we're free to indulge our own interests."

Lucy squirmed in her inescapable rope bonds.  Obviously, the only one in the chamber free to indulge in anything was Bailey Lockhart.

Bailey reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small plastic vial rolled up in a neatly folded white handkerchief.

Lucy watched with understandable self interest as Bailey flipped the integrated lid of the vial, then dribbled several drops of a clear liquid onto her (meaning the prisoner-of-the-table's) left breast and nipple.  A faint but pleasant floral fragrance wafted through the chamber, and as Bailey began using one hand to work the fluid into Lucy's slightly rope-squeezed breast it became obvious the drops were some form of oil... massage oil.  Lucy shivered in her bonds and her nipple enlarged and grew rigid under Bailey's gentle, nimble fingers.

Bailey massaged Lucy's right breast and nipple as well... snapped the tiny vial closed and returned it to her jacket pocket, then used the handkerchief to clean her hand.

Both of Lucy's generous, rope-framed, and ever-so-slightly rope-squeezed boobs were now gleaming with a light coating of oil, including her now pointing nipples.  To the extent allowed by the semi-taut rope lashing her head-harness-gag to the head of the table, the ginger prisoner watched as her blond captor strolled to one the cabinets... loaded various unknown objects into her jacket pockets... returned to Lucy and the table... then positioned herself at the foot of the table, which, of course, meant she was also in the immediate vicinity of Lucy's bound and bare feet!

Smiling brightly, Bailey reached into her pockets and held up the objects one at a time before setting them down on the table, allowing Lucy to get a good (and horrified) look at each and every one of them.  They were:

■  A stainless steel Wartenberg wheel (a spur-like disk of sharp needles spinning atop a curved handle);

■  A stainless steel blunt-tipped probe, obviously some sort of dental or surgical tool;

■  A long, stiff, white quill (probably from a goose);

■  A toothbrush;

■  And finally, a coiled bundle of braided nylon cord with a small steel clip dangling from one end!

Lucy had watched Bailey's melodramatic reveal (her blue eyes at maximum width) while wiggling in her bonds.  Her shining breasts heaved (to the extent allowed by her bonds), and she flexed her ankle-bound and big-toe-tied feet in dread.  The implied threat to her poor, helpless, peach-pink tootsies was obvious, overt, and scary!

Still smiling her wicked smile, Bailey released the hitch securing the coil of cord, looped the end opposite the tiny steel clip through Lucy's tied toes, and secured it with a slip-knot.  She then strolled to the left side of the table... reached up and threaded the cord and its terminal clip through a steel ring dangling about midway between Lucy's bound and lashed-down ankles and her bound and lashed-down knees... took two steps to the side and threaded the remaining cord and the clip through a ring dangling more-or-less directly over Lucy's bound and lashed-down torso, then focused her gloating smile on the prisoner-of-the-table's worried blue eyes.

"You probably thought I was kidding when I frightened Melody with my tall tale about Her Ladyship lashing me to this very table and abandoning me under threat of a perpetual leg-lift-and-nipple-stretching predicament.  Well, I wasn't kidding.  It really happened."  Bailey reached back into a jacket pocket and pulled out... a pair of stainless steel clover-clamps joined by a length of light, stainless steel, nested chain!  "But don't worry, darling.  I have something else in mind for today."

Then, with that not at all reassuring reassurance, Bailey used the clover-clips to capture Lucy's nipples—"Mrrrrrf!—both of them—"Nrrrf!"—then snapped the clip at the end of the cord through the connecting chain.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, from Lucy's point of view) the oil still coating the ginger's nipples had proved insufficiently slippery to prevent the pads of the clover-clamps from achieving firm grips.

Lucy shivered and squirmed as Bailey returned to the foot of the table, leaned close (still smiling)... released the slip-knot securing the cord to Lucy's big toes... then removed all the slack... right up to the point where the clamps just began stretching Lucy's nipples!

"Mrrrpfh!" Lucy whimpered.  Prior to the toes-to-nipples cord, her bound and lashed-down feet had had only a severely limited range of motion.  Now they were stretched and had zero range of motion!

Bailey leaned close and directed her gloating smile to the immobilized feet in question, then (rather theatrically) frowned.  "Oh dear," she declaimed.  "I knew I was forgetting something."  She lifted her gaze to Lucy's.  "Your feet are absolutely filthy, darling.  Wait here while I fetch a bucket of soapy ice-water, a scrub brush, and a nice fluffy towel.  I'll be right back."

With that terrifying warning Bailey turned and departed the chamber, closing the heavy door behind her.  Thud.

Lucy decided to cooperate by waiting patiently... not counting wiggling and squirming in her incredible bonds.  Very.  Carefully.  Fortunately, she was able to control the urge to pant in distress.  The resulting breast-heaving, however minor, would have tugged on the very taut cord now linking the clover-clamps to her big toes.

I'll get you for this, Lucy silently promised her departed coven sister and torturer.  When, where, and how... I have no idea... but I will get you for this!

Meanwhile, back at the bedchamber of Lady Helen Clifton, the Dowager Countess Cumberdale...

---

Mel had to admit Her Ladyship's maids were diligent in the performance of their duties.  Something like fifteen more minutes passed with Poor Melody naked, box-tied, gagged, collared and chained by the neck to the foot of Lady Clifton's gigantic four-poster bed, and rolling on the plush carpet.  She decided she wasn't languishing, per se.  There was too much going on in the bedchamber for her to actually languish.  Instead, the Shamefully Nude, Piteously Bound, and Cruelly Silenced captive lay on her side, occasionally squirmed for comfort, and watched Skylar and Elfrida complete their tasks.

Elfrida finished cleaning the carpet and left the bedchamber carrying the cordless vacuum cleaner.  Mel assumed the pixie-maid was taking it somewhere to empty its dust/dirt receptacle and plug it in for recharging... not that the naked captive really cared, of course... and then, the not-technically-languishing prisoner noticed that Skylar had finished her dusting and cleaning (apparently) and was now smiling at her.  It was that cat-eyeing-a-mouse thing all over again, only without Elfrida as Skylar's feline companion.  Mel would have swallowed nervously, but the folded terrycloth washcloth still wedged in her mouth was making that problematic.

Still smiling (gloating) Skylar strolled to a very stylish Rococo-style cabinet on the right of the bed—right from the hypothetical point-of-view of the absent Lady Clifton gracefully reclined on her bed, that is, but left from the very real point-of-view of a naked, bound, gagged, and present Mel sprawled on the carpet and chained to the foot of the bed,  Anyway, Skylar opened the lowest drawer, pulled something out, slid the drawer closed, then... still smiling like a gloating cat... strolled towards Mel.

Mel blinked in distress.  In Skylar's hands was a panel-gag—a pretty but obviously fully functional panel-gag (in Mel's opinion) with a black mouth-plug and black leather panel and strap.  Mel noted it was strikingly similar to the model she's worn (endured) down in the dungeon Undressing/Dressing Chamber on the first day of the visit!  And then, much to Mel's outrage and agitation (see also titillation), Skylar straddled her body, knelt and settled a goodly portion of her weight atop Mel's tummy, then leaned close and swapped out Mel's gag!

"Mrrrpfh!  Nrrrm!  Ptooie!  Skylar!  Stop!  Gaack!  Nrrrrrf!  MRRRP!"

"Hush, Miss," Skylar purred as she finished buckling the gag's strap at the nape of Mel's neck.  "These need laundering like the others, don't you agree?"

Mel could care less about the maid's housekeeping problems.  "Mrrrf!" she complained, all the while staring imaginary daggers at the grinning maid still straddling her helpless body.

Just then, the bedchamber door opened and Elfrida returned.  She hurried to Mel and the kneeling Skylar. placed her clenched fists on her hips, and pouted.

"You didn't wait for me!" the pixie-maid whined.  (Mel thought Elfie was being incredibly cute, but maintained her irate and panel-gagged Glower of Righteous Martyrdom.)  "You were supposed to wait for me!" Elfrida reiterated.

"Oh, lighten up," Skylar chuckled as she climbed off Poor Mel and gracefully climbed to her feet.  She then tossed Mel's former washcloth-and-robe-sash-bit-cleave-gag towards the bundled robe and former sash-bonds next to the door... and smiled at her fellow domestic.  "Take all that to the laundry while I arrange a few pillows against the foot of Her Ladyship's bed," she ordered.

Elfrida, still pouting and her hands still on her hips, glared at her fellow maid.  "You 'take all that' to the laundry and I'll arrange the pillows," she huffed.  "We don't want to disturb Her Ladyship's bed so I'll use the pillows on the loveseat, easy chairs, and window seat."

"Brilliant," Skylar purred, planted a kiss on Elfrida's still pouting lips—(Mel thought that was cute as well, very cute.)—then spun on her sensibly-clad heels (causing her pageboy to sway and flounce), strolled to the door, retrieved the robe, washcloth, and sashes, and made her exit.

Elfrida's smile returned, then she set about the task of gathering non-bed pillows and arranging them against the foot-board.

Mel watched from the carpet and continued glowering, but her heart wasn't in it.  Elfie was too damn cute for her to even pretend she was angry with her.  She flexed her jaw and tried to shift the black plug more-or-less filling her mouth... but with limited success.  The plug wasn't all that big, but Skylar had buckled the strap tight and the gag's panel was firmly pressing against her lips.

Skylar returned to the bedchamber in a surprisingly short time.  Evidently either a laundry chute or a large hamper was someplace close.  Mel watched as Skylar strolled to the Rococo cabinet and returned to the foot of Her Ladyship's bed with two bundles of the same conditioned hemp rope comprising Mel's box-tie.
 
"What do you think?" Skylar asked her fellow maid as she prepared one of the coils for use.  "Frog-tie, shrimp-tie, or on her back with her legs splayed and ankles tied to Her Ladyship's lower bedposts?"

Elfrida made a show of gazing down at Mel... who blinked and returned the incredibly cute pixie-maid's gaze.

"Hmm... I'm not sure," Elfrida purred.  "There are merits to all three options."  She shifted her dimpled smile to Skylar.  "I'll leave it up to you."

"Frog-tie it is, then," Skylar grinned, and the maids pounced!

Mel wiggled, squirmed, and fought like the proverbial wildcat (as opposed to a terrified mouse) but couldn't prevent the maids from tying her folded legs with her ankles lashed to their respective thighs.  They then lifted up the blond captive... positioned her with her back and box-tied arms against the pillows Elfrida had piled at the foot of the bed... then tied the free ends dangling from Mel's frog-tie bonds to the foot board, splaying her bent knees and bound legs wide open!  Consequentially, her crotch region, pubic bush, and lady-bits were on full display in a most unladylike manner!

"Mrrrrrm!  Nrrrmpfh!"  Mel continued squirming and tugging on her bonds.  She had to admit the pillows were comfortable, but her exposed predicament was humiliating in the extreme (as well as involuntarily lewd).  "Mrrrf!"  Then, things got worse when Elfrida settled against the pillows on Mel's immediate left, draped her right arm over Mel's rope-yoked shoulders, smiled, and snuggled close!  "Nrrrm!"

Meanwhile, Skylar had made a trip to Her Ladyship's right nightstand... returned to Mel and the very friendly Elfrida... knelt on the carpet... and snuggled against Mel's right side.

Mel was now the filling in a maid sandwich!  Then, she noticed what Skylar was holding in her right hand!  Her blue eyes popped to their maximum width and she screamed through her gag!

"MRRRRRF!"
 
Skylar was holding a torpedo or bullet-style vibrator!  It was gold... or more probably gold-colored plastic, but with a super-rich peer like Lady Clifton, who knew?  It was between six and seven inches in length and had a well-rounded and slightly offset tip, something like the shape of a giant lipstick.  Both maids and (of course) Mel were staring at the golden vibrator.  Then, Skylar gave the base of the thing a twist—Buzzzzzzzz... —and turned it on (so to speak).

Both Mel and Elfrida flinched when that happened.

"I believe this thing is powered by a nickle-cadmium battery," Skylar purred (as the vibrator purred).

Elfrida nodded in agreement.  "The recharging unit is wired into the drawer of Her Ladyship's night-table."

"It is," Skylar confirmed.  "Anyway, I believe it's recommended that now and then Nicad batteries should be allowed to discharge completely, in order to extend their life."

"I've heard that too," Elfrida nodded gravely.

Skylar heaved a sigh.  "That may take quite some time, of course, at least an hour... perhaps even two."

Mel shook her gagged head.  "Nrm!  Nrrrrrm!"  Her cuddling captors' intentions were obvious, and she wanted nothing to do with it!  Unfortunately, however, at the moment her opinion didn't seem to hold much sway.

Elfrida gave Mel's shoulder a gentle squeeze.  "Two hours of continuous stimulation?  Isn't that... excessive?"

Still smiling, Skylar nodded.  "Oh, certainly... possibly torturous."  She then used the tip of the quivering torpedo to tease Mel's right nipple!

"Mrrrrm!" Mel complained, shivering and squirming against her bonds and the warm embraces of the maids.  The nipple in question, however, was having a more positive reaction... unless it was growing turgid and erect in protest and alarm.

"I know!" Elfrida gushed.  "We can bring Miss Melvin to orgasm... then use Lady Clifton's Golden Missile to pleasure ourselves while she rests."

"Then diddle her again," Slylar nodded, "until we exhaust the battery.  What a wicked, brilliant thought."  She continued gliding the tip of the vibrator around and against Mel's right and left nipples... and her breasts... then began tracing a sinusoidal path down Mel's belly towards her pussy!

Mel continued shivering and wiggling.

"She is so chonky cute like this!" Elfrida sighed, giving Mel's shoulders another squeeze.
 
"Nrrrrr!" Mel complained.  She agreed with none of what was happening, not the maids' plan, and certainly not what Her Ladyship's "Golden Missile" was doing to her.  Also, she had no idea what "chonky" meant and therefore whether or not her cuteness qualified for the modifier.

Buzzzzzzz...

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Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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