by Van © 2026
		Chapter 9

After the departure of Lady Clifton (the stunningly beautiful but hideously Cruel Tyrant of Bastillon Cottage) Poor Melody and Poor Elfrida spent at least a full hour patiently awaiting Her Ladyship's return... or for the arrival of some other member of The Gang who'd been designated by Her Beautiful/Tyrannical Ladyship to rescue the egregiously suffering captives.

Poor Mel was naked, bolero-jacketed, rope/cord bound, panel-gagged, and lashed to her bed's pillow-padded headboard!

On the other hand, Poor Elfrida was elaborately hogtied and tethered/almost-suspended in a cat's cradle of single strands of thin rope at the foot of the bed!

Mel and Elfrida were, indeed, suffering egregiously... or simply suffering.  In any case, they were totally and completely immobilized.  That was for damn sure.

Actually, while their bonds were undeniably tight, inescapable, and expertly rigged... their predicaments weren't punishing.  As far as Mel could tell, Elfie was unable to move, but didn't appear to be in any great distress; and while Mel was also totally immobilized, she also wasn't in distress.  Were they genuine damsels-in-distress anyway?  Yes.  Hell yes.  Did they want to be untied?  Uh, maybe.  Would they like a little less rope/cord bondage and as a result more wiggle room (or any wiggle room)?  Also hell yes, and unless their anticipated and hoped for rescue arrived soon... things could get punishing!  Oh, the drama!

And then, it finally happened!  (Meaning the prisoners hoped it was finally happening.)

The bedchamber door opened and Bailey sauntered across the threshold.  As she had a full view of her bedroom, Mel knew it was her "elderly" cousin the moment she appeared, but Elfrida's field of view was more or less limited to Poor Mel, so the evilly smiling 40-something blonde had to cross most of the room before the pixie-maid knew the newcomer was The Evil Mistress Lockhart.

"My, what a cozy scene," Bailey purred (gloated) as she gazed at the tableau on the bed.

"Mrrrf!" Mel complained, nervously staring imaginary daggers at her grinning older cousin.  Mel was... perturbed.  Cousin Bailey's smile was decidedly wicked.

Elfrida blinked her blue eyes but, thanks to her bandana-gag (with silky stuffing), said nothing.

Bailey continued gloating... openly... for several additional seconds... then set to work.

When the flaxen-haired "rescuer" was finished...

The ropes/cords lashing Poor Melody in place had been untied, the pillows dumped off the bed and onto the floor, and the pouting and clearly irritated blonde captive was on her stomach on the upper half of the mattress.  Her panel-gag, bolero-jacket, and frog-tie bonds remained intact, but now a rope/cord tethering her to the headboard had been added, greatly limiting her range-of-motion.  Wiggling and squirming in general were entirely feasible, as was rolling onto either side or all the way over onto her back.  She had the required slack.  However, squirming down the bed to visit Poor Elfrida was not feasible, not by several inches.

And speaking of Poor Elfrida, the naked pixie-maid's bandana-gag (with silky stuffing) and elaborate box-tie/frog-tie/hogtie bonds remained intact, but the cat's cradle formerly pinning her in place had been reduced to a simple tether tied through her crossed and bound ankles and tethering her to the bed's foot-board.  As with Mel, limited wiggling and squirming excursion was possible, but Poor Melody's naked, bound/jacketed, and panel-gagged body would be out of Poor Elfrida's range... even if both captives strained to the absolute limits of their respective tethers.

"That's better," Bailey said, smiling and crossing her arms under her breasts.  "You two may relax for the rest of the day, then I'll bring you your dinners and put you to bed properly."

Mel's glower intensified.  First chance she got she intended to phone and/or e-mail the entire extended Lockhart family and reveal that Bailey was a depraved bondage freak!

Then... the naked, bolero-jacketed, rope/cord frog-tied and tethered blonde heaved a panel-gagged sigh.  If she cast familial shade on The Wicked Bailey, she'd probably retaliate by telling everybody that sweet and innocent little Melody was also a depraved bondage freak, and at such a young age!  So... she decided it was best to just keep quiet and just... take it.  It was infuriating.

As for Elfrida, she also sighed, then gazed at her fellow prisoner with a pitiful gagged pout they sent a thrill through Mel's crotch and rippling up her spine.  She's sooo cute like that! Mel thought, meaning Elfie... not Bailey.

"See you later," Bailey purred, then spun on her expensive high-heeled pumps and made her exit, closing the bedchamber door behind her.  Thud.

Mel and Elfrida stared at the back of the door... then at each other... than heaved simultaneous gagged sighs.  Obviously, gagged sighs were the appropriate reactions to their revised, less stringent,  more comfortable, but still inescapable predicaments.

Approximately two hours after Poor Skylar—the unfairly and undeservedly persecuted maid locked in serving chains who had delivered afternoon tea to Her Tyrannical Ladyship and her naked, tied-up, and curious guest (Dr. Jill)—clinked, clattered and clanked her mincing way back to Her Tyrannical Ladyship's bedchamber, knocked, and entered.

Lady Clifton and her captive archaeologist were still in the conversation area.  Dr. Jill was seated in the Rococo-style loveseat, whereas Skylar's beautiful but pitiless aristocratic employer and persecutor had relocated to one of the Rococo-style armchairs and was writing in one of her expensive leather-bound notebooks with one of her expensive Montblanc or Montegrappa pens.

Unsurprisingly, The American blonde was still naked, her wrists crossed and bound together behind her back, her upper arms pinned to her sides, her ankles, feet, and big toes tied together, one of Her Tyrannical Ladyship's black leather panel-gags dangling around her neck in ugly necklace mode, and a shy and adorable smile (in Skylar's opinion) on her embarrassed face.  Also unsurprisingly, Lady Clifton was not tied up in any way and was fully dressed in the same designer-label white-with-yellow-daisies sundress and hideously expensive sandals she'd been wearing earlier.

As for the serving cart, the tea service was used, the biscuit tower half-depleted, and the sandwich tower nibbled to crumbs.

Lady Clifton paused in her writing and smiled at the sullen-but-subservient maid.  "You may take that way," she said, indicating the serving cart.  "Please tell Cook that she was up to her usual standards."

"Yes, Milady," Poor Skylar responded, dropped a quick curtsy (Clatter-clank), then made her way to the cart.  (Clink-clank-clatter...)  Meanwhile, Her Ladyship placed her notebook and pen on a side-table, gracefully rose to her sandal-clad feet, and pulled Skylar into a warm but chain-encumbered embrace,

"You Silly Goose," Lady Clifton purred, then planted a quick kiss on the maid's forehead (including the bangs of her swaying pageboy).  "You have no reason to be jealous of Elfrida and Melody.  You know Elfrida loves you, and if she hasn't already, eventually 'Miss Melvin' will succumb to your charms as well."

Jill couldn't help but smile.  The way Skylar, resplendent in her maid's uniform and chains, was blinking and blushing was very cute, and as for Mel and Elfrida being in love, that wasn't exactly breaking news, although she suspected the dynamic was less love and more a mutual crush, as well as a shared predilection for mischievous fun... but what did she know?

The captive maid managed a coy smile.  "Does this mean I may relay your order to Mistress Lockhart that I should be released?" Skylar inquired, batting her hazel eyes and still blushing.

"Of course not, darling," Her Ladyship chuckled.  "that would spoil the game."  She pointed to the bedchamber door.  "Go."

Skylar heaved a disappointed (and charming) sigh, dropped a sullen curtsy (Clatter-clank), then pushed the serving cart towards the door (Clink-clank-clatter...) all the while muttering under her breath ("@#$%&*..."), and finally made her domestically servile exit.

Lady Clifton and her captive archaeologist watched Skyler depart, then exchanged smiles.

"I believe I just heard you called a 'bloomin' tyrant,'" Jill chuckled.

"I think so," Her Ladyship purred in agreement, then her smile widened.  "But then, that often is my role around here."  She sat back in her chair and retrieved her notebook and pen.  "Now, I'll finish composing my notes, then we can go back over your dream one more time."

Jill tugged and twisted on her bonds, directing her best pitiful pout at her hostess/captor.  "You promised you would untie me," she whined (a ghost of a smile curling her lips).

Lady Clifton's eyes were on her open journal.  Once again she was writing.  "I made no such promise," she stated.  "I'm a 'bloomin' tyrant,' remember?  You'll be untied when your entire rope initiation has run its course."

Jill tested her inescapable hemp bounds for what felt like the millionth time.  "And when will that be?" she demanded.

Her Tyrannical Ladyship lifted her sparkling blue eyes to meet the tragically sad blue eyes of her latest official Gang member.  "Oh, my dear... that would be telling."

Mel and Elfrida independently decided to take what they hoped would be refreshing and rejuvenating naps.  As both were gagged there was no opportunity for prior consultation.

Anyway... time passed... then the bedchamber's door opened and Mistress Bailey—(Mel's elderly (40-something) cousin and Elfrida's cruel and despotic taskmaster)—strolled across the threshold, and in her wake—(Clink-clank-catter...)—came Skylar, pushing a serving cart.

Both Mel's and Elfrida's blue eyes popped to their maximum widths above their respective panel and bandana (with silky stuffing) gags!  Skylar was naked!  Nude!  Completely out of uniform!  Also, she was locked in a traditional and obviously inescapable set of steel serving chains!  Collar, manacles, and fetters!  All connected by lengths of medium-weight steel chain!  The pageboy-maid had enough "freedom" of movement to perform basic serving tasks, but clearly, she was a prisoner, like everybody else in Mel's bedroom who wasn't named Bailey!  Also (and it was significant), Poor Skylar was wearing an example of what would seem to be Lady Clifton's favorite gag: a black leather panel-gag identical to the one plugging Mel's mouth, pressing against her lips, and buckled tight at the nape of her neck!

As for the cart, it held a platter with a dome cover and a champagne bucket full of ice and what appeared to be three bottles of beer.  Elfrida was pretty sure she recognized the label of Lancaster Blonde, which would hardly be surprising as Lancaster was Her Ladyship's favorite brand.  (She owned stock in the brewery.)

"Dinner is served," Bailey announced, then pointed at Skylar.  "She stays in chains.  It's punishment for her being so jealous of the burning love between you two."

Mel and Elfrida exchanged a few puzzled blinks (and blushed above their gags).  'Burning love??'

Skylar was blushing above her gag as well (then turned and glared at Mistress Bailey).

"You won't have the key, anyway," Bailey continued, still addressing the topic of not freeing Skylar.  She then turned her beautiful (and infuriating) smile back to the naked, bound, and gagged captives on the bed and pointed at Mel.  "That one stays in her jacket.  Otherwise we'll have to start her preliminary leather initiation all over again, and that would be truly tragic."

Now both Skylar and Mel were glowering at Mistress Bailey.

I think they're making up all this 'initiation' crap on the fly, Mel silently fumed.

"As for you..." Bailey continued, smiling at Elfrida.  She then strolled to the bed and began untying the pixie-maid's elaborate frog-tie/box-tie/hogtie bondage.  "You're in charge," Bailey purred as several strands of thin hemp rope slithered away from Elfrida's pale, smooth (and temporarily rope-marked) body; however, the grinning Staff-Mistress stopped untying Elfrida with her bonds still largely intact!  She then strolled from the bed to the serving cart, stooped and lifted a fist-size metallic object from the lower shelf, then strolled to the bedchamber door and pulled it half-open.

All three naked, gagged, partially-bound, fully chained, or bolero-jacketed captives watched as Bailey closed what they quickly realized was a close-fitting and locking steel shroud around the interior doorknob, then turned and pocketed the key.  Now that it was in place, the device prevented anyone inside the bedroom from turning the knob and opening the door.

"You girls have a fun sleepover," Bailey wished Mel, Elfrida, and Skylar, then stepped into the hallway and closed the door.  Thud.

All three captives stared at the back of the closed and now locked door.  Mel's luxurious guest bedchamber had become a luxurious guest jail cell!

Elfrida was the first to break the spell.  She energetically wiggled, struggled, groped with her fingers, and eventually succeeded in freeing herself from her remaining bonds.  The pixie-maid then removed her bandana-gag, spit out the knickers-stuffing, climbed from the bed, retrieved her big round glasses from the bedside-table and slid them in place, then executed a luxurious full-body and back-arching stretch, reaching for the ceiling.  As Mel had already noted, Elfie's body was covered with pink indentations, remnant fossils of her just removed bonds, but there were no visible rope-burns or bruises.

A thrill coursed through Mel's helpless body.  The sight of the freshly liberated pixie-maid was intoxicating.  Elfrida the naked maid (with temporary and linear pink decorations) was incredibly cute!  Cute beyond words!  Maybe I am falling in love, Mel mused.

Next, naked-but-rope-free Elfrida scampered (yes, scampered) to naked-but-in-chains Skylar, pulled her fellow-maid into a tight, warm embrace, and planted a kiss on her fellow maid's panel-gag.

"Are you being a silly plonker?" Elfrida asked (and giggled).  "You know I love you."

Skylar blushed... then nodded.

Elfrida planted another kiss—M'wah!—then released her embrace and scampered towards the door to the bedchamber's attached bath.  "I'll be right back," she promised, smiling at Mel, "then I'll untie your feet so you can take a tinkle."  She pointed at the serving cart.  "Can't wait to see what's on the menu," she giggled, then entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  Thud.

Mel and Skylar stared at the bathroom door... then locked eyes.  Their identical gags prevented conversation.  They knew that eventually the gags would be removed and they'd be able to discuss the elephant in the room, Elfrida... who at the moment was actually the incredibly cute naked elephant in the bathroom... but that would come later.

I suppose we can come up with some sort of custody agreement, Mel thought.

Once satisfied that Jill's dream was well documented, Lady Clifton carried her notebook and pen to her writing desk.  She then returned to the conversation area, lifted Jill into her arms—(Jill gasped and blushed but didn't otherwise object)—then carried her to her neatly made bed.  The two blondes were approximately the same height and similarly fit and curvaceous, but Jill was "willowy" or "slender" (with less voluminous breasts) and therefore not a taxing burden over such a short distance.  Her Ladyship gently deposited her captive archaeologist on the bed's smooth, soft surface.

Naked, lying full-length on Her Ladyship's bed, bound hand and foot (and feet and big toes), and with her panel-gag loose and around her neck in ugly necklace mode, Jill stared up at her smiling hostess/patron/captor, willing herself to not blush and blink her blue eyes.  (She was successful with respect to blinking, but as for the blushing... not so much.)

And then—Jill swallowed and bit her lower lip—Lady Clifton had begun to undress!  The white sundress (with yellow daisies) was first... followed by her sandals... followed by her frilly bra... and finally... her decidedly brief and frilly knickers.  Her Ladyship was now completely nude with her uniformly and richly tanned perfect body on open display.  She gathered her garments and padded to her walk-in closet... then returned to the bedroom, smiling broadly.

Since arriving at Bastillon Cottage Jill had seen Lady Clifton in the alltogether many times, mostly in the sauna or gym shower, and after today she could add the Basking Garden and Her Ladyship's Bedchamber to the list.  A thrill coursed through Jill's helpless body.  Lady Clifton was stunning.  A force of nature.  A Norse Goddess strolling (padding) towards a merely human Jill Walker, smiling her perfect smile and her generous and ideally proportioned breasts swaying as she approached.  Jill was... impressed.

And then, Her Naked and Gorgeous Ladyship had arrived.  She climbed onto the smooth surface of the bed, snuggled close to Jill, and pulled her into a gentle embrace!  Large areas of their naked bodies slid against each other as they pressed together.

Jill opened her mouth to object (or something), but before she could make a sound Her Ladyship's planted a warm, wet kiss (with tongue) on her captive archaeologist!  Jill shivered in response, then realized she was returning the kiss, and without having made a conscious decision to do so!

Lady Clifton ended (or paused) the kiss in question.  "If you have any more dreams starring 'Lady Jorun," be sure and write them down.  I've never had a coauthor for one of my novels before.  This should be... interesting."

"C-coauthor?" Jill gasped, "but—mrrrf!"  The kiss had resumed... and now Her Ladyship was also gently squeezing Jill's left breast and toying with her erect nipple!  Jill tugged on her inescapable bonds and squirmed in Lady Clifton's arms.  She was being snogged by her incredibly beautiful hostess while bound and tongue-gagged!  Wow!

Suddenly, there was a knock at the bedchamber door!  Tap-tap-tap!

"Enter!" Her Ladyship muttered through Jill's startled mouth, then went back to snogging her fellow naked blonde.

The door opened and Dr. Lucy wheeled a serving cart into the bedchamber!  She was wearing the same academic-chic summer ensemble with high-heel pumps she'd been wearing all day.  The autumnal colors perfectly complemented her ginger hair and fair, peach-pink complexion.  The cart was loaded with a large covered platter and three bottles of beer in an ice bucket.

Lucy closed the door behind her, then pointed to the cart.  "Finger sandwiches, fruit, and Lancaster Amber," she announced.  "Cook says to ask you to give her more warning prior to the next time you order bedroom-picnics-for-everybody so she can plan a more diverse menu."

Her Ladyship continued exploring Jill's teeth, gums, and tonsils with her tongue... then came up for air, focused on the smiling ginger next to the cart, and affected a petulant frown.

"How dare you interrupt my privacy!"

Lucy didn't seem to be especially upset by Her Ladyship's rebuke.  In fact, her smile was coy.  "You gave me permission," she noted.

Her Ladyship was still frowning.  "I did?"

Jill licked her lips, wiggled in her bonds (and Lady Helen's embrace), and came to Lucy's defense.  "You did," she confirmed.

"Oh," Her Ladyship sighed.  "I suppose I did."  She shrugged.  "That doesn't mean I can't punish you anyway.  Strip!"

Jill frowned.  "That's not very—Mrrrf!"  The snogging on the bed (aka 'Lady Helen's kiss-gag,' had resumed.

When Her Ladyship finally decided enough was enough and stopped smooching with her personal archaeologist, her resident historian had removed all of her clothing (no doubt folding and stashing them somewhere while Jill was busy being snogged), and was standing at the foot of the bed with her bare feet about about eight inches apart, her hands resting atop her glorious ginger locks, and smiling into the distance.  And speaking of glorious, Dr. Lucy Russell was a somewhat younger and fair-complected version of the Dowager Countess of Cumberdale, similar but different.  Their features were both symmetrical and beautiful but not the same, and while their physiques, statures, and the generosity of their breasts were similar, one was peach-pink and the other tan; however, no one could argue that the scholar and the aristocrat weren't Celtic and Viking feminine ideals, respectively.

Meanwhile, Lady Clifton had climbed from the bed...executed a luxurious full-body stretch... then smiled, leaned close, and unexpectedly popped Jill's panel-gag back into her mouth—"Mrrrm!"—and buckled it tight at the nape of her neck!

"Mrrrm!" Jill reiterated, her blue eyes staring into her hostess/captor's smiling visage.  The naked, bound, and now gagged archaeologist's heart was hammering in her chest as she wiggled, squirmed, and tested her bonds.  Unfortunately, she noted, nothing had changed with respect to the tightness or effectiveness of her hemp rope/cord bondage.

"Now," Her Ladyship addressed her fellow blonde, "watch closely.  As a novice and initiate, you have much to learn."  With that, she spun on her bare feet, padded to a cabinet, and produced several coils of the now ubiquitous thin hemp rope.

And then (to coin a phrase that was in no way becoming a Bastillon Cottage cliché) Her Ladyship pounced!

When the naked Lady Clifton had expended the last coil of rope/cord, the naked Dr. Russell was tied up.  Very tied up.  Specifically...

Lucy's hands were bound behind her back in a stringent box-tie with her wrists raised well past the horizontal, crossed, and lashed together and against her spine.  Horizontal bands pinned her upper-arms to her sides, passed above and below her breasts, crossing between, and ever-so-slightly squeezing them together.  Diagonal strands yoked her shoulders, anchoring the tie from above, while additional strands encircled her waist and bisected her lady-bits and butt-cheeks, anchoring the tie from below in the form of a tight crotch-rope.

Additional bands tied Lucy's legs together at her mid-thighs, above and below her knees, her mid-lower-legs, and her ankles.

Lady Clifton had spun her naked subject around as she worked, repeatedly, which meant that again and again Lucy was required to hop in place (causing her breasts to bounce and bob in a most distracting manner).  Jill assumed this for her benefit, to provide the novice/initiate with an edifying view of what was happening to the totally-innocent-and-in-no-way-worthy-of-punishment ginger historian.  After all... as Her Ladyship had noted... Jill had much to learn.

Lady Clifton completed Lucy's ankle bonds, stood, took a step back, and smiled.

Lucy took that as her cue to begin her Courtesy Struggle.  She wiggled and squirmed and twisted in place.  None of Her Ladyship's rigging showed any sign of loosening or shifting in place.  Finally... the helpless naked ginger heaved a rope-impeded sigh... then dropped her blue-eyes gaze to the carpet in a display of submissive surrender.

Jill thought her fellow academic had given (meaning was giving) a magnificent performance.  Lucy was now stringently bound from ankles to shoulders and completely helpless, but she'd let it happen.  Lucy was in on the game.  But then... Jill realized that she was in on the game as well.  She hadn't exactly shown serious resistance to what Helen had been doing to her all day.  Go figure.  Jill had a lot to think about, but now was not the time.  Things were still happening!

Apparently having fulfilled her immediate gloating quota, Lady Clifton returned to the cabinet, produced even more coils of rope/cord and yet another example of her seemingly endless supply of black leather panel-gags with black leather gobstoppers!  She then padded back towards her captive audience (smiling evilly), tossed the rope on the bed, slid the gag's plug into Dr. Russell's pouting mouth, and buckled its strap tight at the nape of her neck, making sure no more that a few strands of her long, glorious, ginger curls were trapped underneath!

The naked, thoroughly bound, and now gagged historian tossed her head and tried her best to expel the plug from her mouth.  This caused her ginger tresses to shake and flounce, but imparted only a slight oscillation to her rope/cord-framed breasts.  Jill was mildly puzzled.  Apparently, overt vocal verification that newly applied gags were effective wasn't a required element of Bastillon Cottage protocol.  She made a mental note to confirm that conclusion when she had a gag-free opportunity.

Lucy gave her upper-body bonds another brief but enthusiastic test... and her boobs wobbled in response.  Jill decided Lucy would be an excellent choice of mentor.  Bailey might also answer her questions, but given the obvious mischievous streak running rampant through the Lockhart family, Her Ladyship's Companion might insist on practical demonstrations of any and all bondage-related inquiries Jill might make.

Meanwhile, Lucy was now staring at Her Gloating Ladyship with a truly pitiful gagged expression.  Jill thought her fellow academic's sad eyes and much-put-upon attitude in general were very entertaining.  Dr. Lucy Russell was a very hot damsel-in-distress.

Lady Clifton pointed at the bed (and Jill).  "Hop over there and keep Dr. Walker company," she ordered.

Lucy rolled her eyes, then did, indeed hop to the bed... around to the right side... then flopped down onto the mattress and squirmed until she was side-by-side with Jill.  The journey had involved epic boob-bouncing and hair flouncing, which Jill was still processing, as well as the now very close proximity of her fellow naked, bound, and gagged academic.

By-the-way, Jill had noted that the narrow, vertical, ginger stripe of Lucy's Brazilian had been bisected by the twin vertical strands of her crotch-rope; however, a long, narrow vertical tuft of ginger short-and-curlies was trapped and peeking between the two rope/cords!  This had to have been deliberate on Her Ladyship's part.  She had to have parted the strands as she tied the crotch-rope to make it happen.  It was an interesting detail.  Jill wondered what she'd look like with a Brazilian.  It was one more thing to think about... when her overloaded psyche wasn't otherwise occupied.
 
Next, Her Ladyship opened the top drawer of her right bedside table... and produced a single, black, six-inch, plastic cable-tie.

Jill frowned above her gag.  What's she gonna do with—(Ziiiiip!)—Oh... That...  Why?  Lady Clifton had tightened the tie around Lucy's big toes, binding them together!

Now both captive academics had been deprived of the use of their big toes.  Jill's were already bound together as part of her ankles/feet/big-toes bondage, and now Lucy's by the cable-tie.  She watched as Lucy (and her toes) executed a big-toes Courtesy Struggle.  To coin a phrase, toe-wiggling was futile... and the same went for Jill.  The free end of the tie quivered and shook as Lucy conducted her test... which Jill found mildly mesmerizing.

Jill stared at Lucy's zip-tied toes... then at the smiling (gloating) Lady Helen... then at Lucy's toes.  Why? she wondered (again).  Toe-bondage is... unnecessary.  She heaved a panel-gagged and slightly puzzled sigh.  This game is complicated.

Meanwhile, Her Tyrannical Naked Ladyship prepared a coil of hemp rope/cord for immediate use, and then...  Wait for it...  pounced!

When the last of the rope/cord coils were expended, the mattress stopped bouncing, and Lady Clifton stepped back (and smiled/gloated), Doctors Walker and Russell were lying on their sides and lashed together from their shoulders to their ankles—gagged face to gagged face—their boobs squashed together—their tummies as well—with a symmetrical matrix/web of doubled hemp strands enforcing the arrangement every six to eight inches, occasionally cinched and/or hitched through their already existing bonds.  None of it was punishingly tight, but their tentative struggles confirmed that Lady Helen Clifford, the Dowager Countess Cumberdale, was, indeed, a Master (Mistress) Rigger.

Her Ladyship continued smiling and openly gloating, watching as Jill and Lucy wiggled and squirmed.  Obviously, her guests/prisoners, weren't going anywhere.

The captive academics blinked their blue eyes and gazed up at their hostess/captor.

Jill shivered in her intimate bondage.  The skin-on-skin familiarity was distracting, discombobulating. and involuntarily stimulating.  Especially the boobs, Jill decided, then shivered again when Lucy took a deep, gagged breath and flexed her rope/cord bound shoulders.  They were both starting to sweat where skin-met-skin, and that included their breasts and abdomens.

"Now," Her Ladyship announced, "I'm not terribly hungry, but I think I would like a nice relaxing soak, so..."  She turned and gracefully padded towards her luxuriously appointed attached bath.

What Lucy knew from experience (but Jill did not) was that the bath in question featured a huge spa-style soaking tub positioned in front of an arc of ceiling-to-floor windows affording a charming and relaxing view of a naturalistic walled garden.  The tub's Jacuzzi-like features might be anachronistic, but everything was styled to match the traditional decor of Her Ladyship's bedchamber.

Jill might be ignorant of the details, but had surmised what was happening.  Her Ladyship was abandoning them to languish in their shared captivity while she took a bath!

Lady Clifton disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her.  There was a brief pause... then the sound of splashing water wafted back into the main bedroom.

Jill sighed (stoically enduring the inevitable increase in pressure on her squashed boobs) then focused on Lucy's gagged face.  Lucy was staring back.

The water filling Her Ladyship's bath continued to gurgle and splash.

So... Jill mentally addressed her intimate companion in bondage.  Will you be my mentor, answer my questions, warn me when Helen or Bailey are about to do something horrible to me, and offer emotional support as I... learn the ropes?

Lucy blinked a few times and wiggled her hips, squirming for comfort.

I'll take that as a yes, Jill decided, and winked back.

The cascade filling the luxurious bath of Helen the Cruel continued its watery chorus.

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Chapter 8

Chapter 10

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