by Van © 2026
		Chapter 10

Naked, smiling, wearing her adorable big round glasses, her pixie-short and light-brown hair freshly brushed (but with an adorable little cowlick poking up in the back), Elfrida padded from the attached bath and back into Mel's main bedroom.

Naked—not counting her black-leather, bolero-style, boob-exposing straitjacket and her black leather panel-gag—Mel stared at the approaching naked maid.  She knew she ought to at least be trying to pretend she was resentful that the adorable mega-cutie with the adorable mega-cute body and adorable mega-cute face had been put in charge of her immediate fate by her Evil Cousin Bailey, but she just couldn't pull it off.  Elfie was just too damn cute (and adorable).

As for Skylar, she was also naked (not counting her steel serving chains and black leather panel-gag), and was also gazing at Elfrida as her fellow maid and acknowledged girlfriend approached the interloping blonde (Miss Melody).  She knew she wasn't being fair to the Yank.  How could Mel not be attracted to Elfrida?  You'd have to be allergic to cute not to be attracted to Elfrida.  She resolved to temper her attitude... or try to, anyway... as well as limit any future retaliation(s) on her part.  It should be fun watching Elfrida do things to Miss Mel and Miss Mel do things to Elfrida.  Hmmm...  And once she was not in chains and back on top (which she considered to be inevitable) she'd have a lot of fun playing "Bondage Barbie" with the pair of them.  Hell, she was already having a lot of fun!  But she'd have to be careful.  She didn't want to scare Miss Melody away.  That would make Elfrida mad at her and/or arouse the ire of Her Ladyship and/or Mistress Bailey.  In any case, the future was going to be very interesting.  Hmmm...

Meanwhile, Elfrida had pulled Mel into a mutually naked embrace, planted a big sloppy kiss squarely on the bolero-jacketed blonde's panel-gag, and was leading her towards the bathroom.

"This way, darling," the pixie-maid gushed.  "You can take that tinkle I promised you, and afterwards I'll clean you up."  Elfrida paused in the doorway (and therefore, so did Mel), beamed at her naked-and-in-chains fellow maid and girlfriend, then pointed to the serving cart still waiting in the middle of the room.  "Make yourself useful and get ready to serve dinner," she instructed, then (giggling) disappeared with Mel into the bathroom.

Skylar rolled her hazel eyes above her gag.  That does it, she silently huffed.  Now I have no choice but to recruit Miss Melvin as my junior partner so together we can do unthinkable and super-erotic things to Poor Elfrida.  I'll be top, Melvin will be my sub-top, and Elfrida will be very sorry.  She deserves it. 

Eventually (after an infuriating and unjustifiably prolonged interval) Lady Clifton emerged from her attached bath, still naked, smiling, and gorgeous.  Apparently (obviously), she'd enjoyed her prolonged soak in her Jacuzzi-style tub.

Doctors Walker and Russell watched from atop Her Naked Ladyship's now slightly rumpled gigantic fourposter bed as their aristocratic captor padded in their direction.  They were bound together by a plethora (but not a plentiful plethora) of Her Naked Ladyship's seemingly endless supply of thin hemp rope, as well as being gagged with a pair of Her Naked Ladyship's black leather panel-gags.  They remained pressed together, gagged-face-to-gagged-face, boob-to-boob, tummy-to-tummy, thigh-to-thigh, and their knees bumping together.  They were decidedly displeased.  They were also sweating where Jill's smooth, firm, tan skin was in involuntary contact with Lucy's smooth, firm, peach-pink skin, and the lubrication was not aiding in their weak, ongoing efforts to wiggle and/or squirm out of Her Naked Ladyship's inescapable rigging.

Jill supposed she ought to be mad-as-hell and glowering at her hostess, but instead she was... nervous?  Confused?  In any case, she was puzzled by her poorly understood reactions to being Her Ladyship's naked, bound, and gagged plaything.

As for Lucy... Jill had no idea what was going on with Lucy any more than she knew what was going on with herself.  The ginger historian also wasn't glowering at their "hostess"... and she ought to be glowering.  They both ought to be glowering.

And then... Her Ladyship arrived at the bed, leaned close, and planted a warm kiss (Smooch!) on Jill's forehead... followed by a second warm kiss (Smooch!) on Lucy's forehead.  And now (unless Jill was mistaken) Lucy was smiling through her gag at Her Ladyship!  By the way, Lady Clifton's hair and skin smelled like... lavender?  Jill took it as more evidence that Her Ladyship had, indeed, taken a long, relaxing soak in her fancy tub... possibly with bath salts.

"Ready for supper?" Her Ladyship purred, then began untying the ropes enforcing the archaeologist-on-historian intimacy... but not the ropes that were enforcing their individual helplessness.  The outer matrix of rope/cords loosened and slithered away... and eventually they rolled apart.  Jill noted that the former zones of intimate contact had, indeed, become damp with perspiration... which was now evaporating.  Her nipples had grown erect as a result... and she noted Lucy's nipples were also pointing... and the damp areas of her fellow academic's peach-pink skin were also slightly flushed.  It was kinda sexy... and wasn't helping Jill sort out her "confusion."

Meanwhile, Lady Clifton had padded to the serving cart delivered by Dr. Russell (before she was ordered to disrobe by Her Ladyship so she could be bound and gagged), and was now wheeling it towards the bed.  She smiled and lifted the domed cover from the platter revealing, just as Lucy had said (or implied), that Cook had made more delicious-looking finger-sandwiches, as well as providing a bowl of fresh fruit and three bottles of beer.

Jill found she was a tad peckish, even though she'd had finger-sandwiches for tea.   She strongly suspected Lucy was also ready to eat.

Her Naked Ladyship grabbed her naked, bound, and gagged guests and lifted and arranged each of them until they were side-by-side on the bed and facing the serving cart.  She then removed their panel-gags—Lucy first and then Jill—but left the gags dangling around their necks in ugly-necklace-mode.  She then sat intimately close between her naked prisoners/guests.  Dinner was served.

For the rest of the evening, what happened in Lady Clifton's and Miss Melody's bedchambers was the same (or somewhat similar).  After dining, the captives' ankle, big-toe, and leg bonds were removed (if necessary) by their respective captors, one captive at a time.  Escorted trips to the attached bathrooms for their evening toilettes ensued.  They were then returned to their respective beds and their ankle-bonds restored (if they'd had any).  Lady Clifton did the honors in the Master (Mistress) Bedchamber, of course, while Elfrida took the active role in Mel's guest bedroom.

Once everybody who wasn't in charge was once again totally helpless... the overhead lights were turned off and snuggling happened (as well as a little snogging and strategic smooching).  Nobody said much of anything in either bedroom.  Nobody felt compelled to glare at their respective naked handlers or resist their affections, and nobody made snarky remarks when it was their turn to watch while their fellow prisoner-of-the-bed was snogged by their specific hostess/captor.

Both Jill and Mel blushed and were more than a little embarrassed when it was their turn to be the snogee, but the bedrooms were dark so nobody was the wiser.

Anyway... morning arrived.

Jill had awakened to find she's been completely untied and her panel-gag removed from around her neck at some time in the early morning, but (surprisingly) she had slept through the entire process.  Go figure.  Anyway, Lucy had been untied as well, and after everybody in Her Ladyship's bedchamber exchanged good-morning wishes (and kisses), the ginger-haired historian served as the flaxen-haired archaeologist's guide so they could return to their respective bedrooms via the Secret Passages without having to streak through the public corridors of The Cottage.

"We'll talk later," Lucy promised when they reached Jill's bedroom door, then planted a warm kiss on her lips and was gone.

"Uh... okay," Jill responded, watching Lucy pad away.  She then entered her bedroom and prepared for her day.

As for Mel, she was already in her bedroom.  It was the same, only different.  There was a lot of stretching and yawning, smiles (or glowering frowns) and kisses, and the use of Mel's bathroom to relieve various bladders.  Most of it was silent (not counting the clinking and clattering of Skylar's chains).  Then, the maids made their exits.  Elfrida was back in the maid's uniform Skylar had ordered her to remove way-back-when, whereas Skylar was still naked and in chains (as none of the junior Gang-members had the required key), and was pushing the empty dinner cart.  Whether they planned to visit the kitchen to beg Cook for the aforementioned key (thereby scandalizing the rest of the domestic servants with Skylar's naked captivity), or had some other plan for getting the pageboy-maid out of her chains and into uniform so she could start her workday, Mel had no idea.

Oh-by-the-way, once the two brunette maids and the blond Junior Archaeologist had completed their morning toilettes and returned to the main bedroom, they noted that the clam-shell-doorknob-lock formerly securing the door to the hallway had mysteriously disappeared!  Either it was a magic clam-shell-doorknob-lock and its conjuring spell had expired, or it was an alien clam-shell-doorknob-lock and had been beamed back to the mother ship.  Mel supposed it was possible that Bailey had crept into the bedroom, unlocked and removed it while they were otherwise occupied, then crept out again, but the Magic and Alien Hypotheses were much more entertaining.  The point was, the maids and Mel would have zero difficulty "escaping" the guest-bedchamber/jail-cell

Also oh-by-the-way, Mel's former bolero-straitjacket had departed the bedroom on the bottom shelf of the serving cart.  As with Jill's rope-cord bondage, the jacket had been unbuckled and removed during the night; however, unlike with Jill, Mel had come fully and immediately awake when the maids started freeing her... then had immediately gone back to sleep afterwards, with only a little stretching and squirming.  (Mel had promised herself to throw a major tizzy-fit when she woke up in the morning, but forgot about it.  Go figure.)

Anyway, Jill's Rope Initiation and Mel's Leather Initiation were now history and both were now full-fledged Bastillon Cottage Gang Members; however, no matter while they might suspect that generalized shenanigans were now officially afoot (so to speak), neither newcomer was aware of the other's participation or change of status.  As far as Mel knew, Dr. Jill was still "vanilla"—beautiful, sexy, and fun—but a bondage novice.  As for Dr. Jill, her beloved Miss Melvin was still a trickster and a scamp who may-or-may-not be falling in love with Elfrida the maid and may-or-may-not be playing games that may-or-may-not involve rope with both resident maids.

In any case, the GPR automated and self-driving robot and its accompanying technician/sales-rep would arrive tomorrow, so there were things to do!  Both archaeologists (professional and wannabe) had a lot to think about, but any additional bondage games would have to wait... assuming Lady Clifton and her Companion and staff didn't decide to go bat-shit-crazy, kidnap them, and incarcerate them in Her Ladyship's Secret Dungeon(s).

The Project (Dr. Jill's archaeological exploration of Lady Clifton's estate, with Miss Melvin as her Scrappy Assistant) had come into being on the large table in the middle of Her Ladyship's Writing Room (which they quickly outgrew), then moved to a sitting room down the hall (which they also quickly outgrew), and finally out of the Cottage entirely and into a Victorian Era stone outbuilding behind the carriage-house/garage and opposite the Garden Shed.  It was a solidly built structure, the roof had been replaced something like ten years ago, and was in excellent condition.  Getting it cleaned out and ready for use as Jill's (and Mel's) administrative office and processing lab for newly discovered artifacts hadn't involved a great deal of work, mostly dusting, sweeping, window-washing, and moving in furniture.  (Finishing up making the new office ready for use had been the biggest item on Mel's to-do-list while Jill and Her Ladyship were in Leeds.)

The building had been officially re-designated from "The Old Storehouse Between the Garage and the Garden Building" to "The Dig Office" (even though actual digging hadn't yet commenced).

All the exterior door-locks had been replaced with modern hi-security models and window bars were on order.  If the planned digs were successful, enhanced security would be required to protect the unearthed artifacts.

Also, Jill and Lady Clifton agreed that if the digs were really successful, a dedicated Cumberdale Archaeological Institute should be established.  Her Ladyship's solicitors were already at work preparing the required paperwork and Jill and Lucy were "networking" with the regional universities for partners and collaborators.

Anyway...  The long awaited GPR apparatus arrived and was unpacked, assembled, and tested.  The name "GPR2-D2" was proposed by Mel, and she asked if it could be programed to make "bleeping and blooping noises" whenever anybody talked to it.

The company representative (a very pleasant gentleman in his late 30's) smiled and said that while programming the unit to make extraneous electronic noise was entirely feasible, such an upgrade would be very expensive.  (He wasn't serious, of course).

Dr. Walker also smiled, then leaned close to her protegé.  "Don't make me slap you," she whispered.

"Yes, Doctor," Mel responded (with a cheeky grin), then dropped a quick curtsy.

That said, the name GPR2-D2 stuck.  Mel was very proud.

Over the next week daily scans of the same initially chosen site happened.  One of the groundbreaking features (so to speak) of the new software accompanying the "droid" was its ability to identify random noise (pixels that didn't recur from scan to scan), resulting in very clean final results.  Jill and Mel quickly grew confident in their ability to operate and maintain the hardware and software and the company rep returned to Leeds.

As for the initial site, Jill (and Mel) became even more confident that their analysis had been correct.  The chosen site was promising indeed!  She (they) were convinced they were looking at a buried village or a cluster of farms that, by the depth of the returns, might be pre-Roman!  However, now was not the time to start digging.  The other identified sites needed to be scanned as well.  Also, while Jill and Mel were perfectly capable of digging test trenches, a full dig would require a lot more manpower, probably in the form of volunteers and/or students and staff from the surrounding colleges and universities.  Ramping up the Cumberdale Archaeological Institute (CAI) shifted into high priority.

Anyway, the decision was made to continue scanning the other identified sites on the estate while Jill and Her Ladyship scheduled visits to London, Cambridge, Oxford, Edinburgh, Manchester, Nottingham, Sheffield, and Birmingham.  Mel would remain behind, for the most part, and handle the preliminary scans and re-scans, keeping Jill updated via the internet.

So... with respect to archaeology, things settled into a routine.  Jill and/or Mel shepherded GPR2-D2 from site to site, processed the results, Her Ladyship and Jill continued meeting with the solicitors to foster the founding of the CAI, and Jill (occasionally with Mel in tow) started making academic visits to network, gen up interest in the dig(s), and troll for potential associates and student volunteers.

But what about Bastillon Cottage Gang bondage shenanigans?

Jill and Mel were too busy for silly rope games and/or tomfoolery.  They barely had time for their daily exercise.  They worked late, fell into their respective beds exhausted, drifted off to sleep quickly, then woke at dawn and did it all over again.

Lucy was busy as well, but found the time to occasionally get herself stripped naked, tied up with hemp rope/cord, buckled into exotic and expensive leather restraints, or locked in steel hardware; always with a gag, of course.  She would then be abandoned to languish in some isolated Cottage location and/or be ruthlessly snogged and diddled by one (or more) of her fellow Gang members (but not Dr. Jill or Miss Melvin). 

Also, the time was growing nigh for Lucy to return to Edinburgh for a few months to fulfill her academic responsibilities.  So far her progress towards tenure was solidly on track, but Lecturers had to shoulder their share of the teaching load if they ever hoped to be promoted.  Fortunately, her superiors were very enthusiastic about her Bastillon Cottage research, so she'd be returning to Bastillon Cottage on a regular basis.  The Clifton family archives were a scholarly goldmine.

Anyway, Lady Clifton, Mistress Bailey, and the Resident Maids helped Lucy get her ashes hauled on a semi-regular basis, but Dr. Jill and Miss Melvin were in the middle of an extended nookie-drought.  Fortunately (or unfortunately) the archaeologists were too busy to notice.

Two weeks of daily GPR2-D2 scans and re-scans became a full month... then Dr. Walker and the Dowager Countess Cumberdale departed for London for three days of meetings with Her Ladyship's solicitors and various government trust offices.

Mel, Bailey, and the maids waved goodbye, then dispersed to their respective tasks and responsibilities.

Mel had scan results to process and archive, and she did so.  After work she locked up The Dig Office, returned to The Cottage, and enjoyed a pleasant dinner with Cousin Bailey.  It was served by Skylar and Elfrida, of course, during which Mel managed to complain only a little about not being included in the London trip so she could shop and play tourist while Jill and Her Ladyship sat through boring meetings.  (Bailey and the maids found her pouting performance to be very entertaining.)  After dessert (a modest but yummy slice of Cook's justifiably famous Banoffee Pie) she wished everyone a good night, retired for the evening, changed into her pajamas (her birthday suit), read a chapter of one of Lady Clifton's novels, then drifted off to sleep.

The next morning...

Mel strolled through Bastillon Cottage towards the Family Dining Room.  It looked to be a glorious early-autumn day in the Lancashire County sector of the Green and Pleasant Land.  That is, it was raining, and the forecast said it would be doing so off and on for most of today, most of tomorrow, and the rest of the week.  The Junior Archaeologist was wearing what had become her working uniform while toiling as Dr. Jill's most important (and only, for the moment) assistant.  Her ensemble was:

●  A pair of brown-suede/black-nylon hi-top hiking-sneakers;

●  A pair of wool work-socks;

●  A pair of stone-washed denim jeans;

●  A cotton tank-top;

●  A blue-gray, green, and brown plaid Western-style work-shirt with pearl snap-buttons and its long sleeves rolled up.

●  A feminine (but only slightly frilly) panties and bra set.

Dr. Jill usually wore similar outfits when not dressed for her teaching/academic duties.  Was Mel imitating her mentor/idol?  No, ya think?  However, she had plans to pull together at least one British Tan and vaguely military ensemble of cargo-shorts, blouse, bush-jacket, and either a matching slouch hat or a pith helmet for the coming summer.  She'd be cos-playing "Indiana Jill's" scrappy sidekick, of course.  It should be good for a laugh.

And oh-by-the-way, it was now virtually 100% certain that Miss Melody would be Lady Clifton's guest for at least the next year.  The Project would take that long even if the planned dig(s) turned up bupkis.  One of Her Ladyship's solicitors was sorting out the paperwork to regularize the long term visitor status of Dr. Jill and Miss Melody, and Mel's parents had already been notified.

Anyway...  Mel breezed into the dining room, went down the buffet, and loaded a plate with a generous scoop of scrambled eggs, a slice of bacon (which she considered "ham," rather than proper American-style bacon), a single banger (sausage), some fried potatoes, and a couple of fried tomato slices; however, she bypassed the baked beans, fried mushrooms, and Black Pudding.  (Mel wasn't a big fan of Black Pudding.)  A rack of toast triangles and crock of butter were already waiting on the table, as were coffee, tea, milk, and sugar.  Mistress Bailey, was already eating.

"Good morning!" Mel wished her 40-something cousin and fellow blonde.  As usual, Bailey was smartly and expensively dressed, even though her aristocratic companion was away in London with Dr. Jill.

"Good morning, Melody," Bailey replied, smiling warmly.  She had almost finished clearing her plate.

Mel poured herself a cup of coffee, selected and buttered a triangle of toast, and began eating.  The eggs were perfect... the bacon (ham) was crispy without being dry and/or singed, the banger (sausage) was yummy, and the supporting cast of potatoes, fried tomatoes, and toast were equally yummy... and Mel strongly suspected the butter might actually be butter!

Mel finished her breakfast, refilled her coffee, then sat back with a satisfied smile.  It was then that she noted Cousin Bailey had long since finished, was sipping her tea, and was smiling at her.

Mel took another sip.

Bailey took another sip.

"What?" Mel demanded.

"What what?" Bailey purred.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Bailey's smile turned coy.  "Like what?"

Mel rolled her eyes.  "Like a damn Cheshire Cat.  I don't have time for this."

"Yes you do," Bailey chuckled.

Mel frowned.  "What do you mean?  I need to double-check the program before the first scan of site number four.  Dr. Jill wants it ready to go when she gets back."

Bailey shook her head, still smiling.  "No you don't."

Mel doubled down.  "Yes I do."

Again, Bailey shook her head.  "Before they left for London, my boss asked your boss if it would be okay if the maids take you shopping and pub-crawling through the area villages while they're away.  She said yes."  She took a sip of tea.  "Dr. Walker thinks you could use a break.  I think she feels guilty that she gets to go to London and you don't."

Mel nodded.  A break would be nice, she mused, then her frown deepened.  "Wait.  Shopping and pub-crawling... with the maids?"

Bailey laughed.  "Pay attention.  At Her Ladyship's suggestion, in her absence Dr. Walker has given you formal permission to take a three day holiday and have fun with the maids."

"Oh."  Mel had almost had time to decide this was a good thing when Bailey picked up a tiny silver bell and gave it a vigorous shake.  Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle...

One of the doors to the dining room immediately flew open and the maids in question (Skylar and Elfrida) entered.  Both were in their expected black and white Bastillon Cottage maid uniforms... and smiling in an ultra-cute but only vaguely ominous manner—and oh-by-the-way, in their hands were coils of the now all too familiar hemp rope/cord, uncoiled and ready and for immediate use!

Mel's blue eyes popped wide in alarm!  "Hey!  No!  W-what are you—  No!  Stop!  Stop!  MRRRPFH!"

Lady Clifton's highly trained and mega-cute ninja-maids, working with perfect coordination, had dragged Poor Mel from her chair—deftly and quickly tied her wrists behind her back—looped, tightened, and knotted rope/cord around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides—then popped a baby-blue silicon-rubber tongue-trapping and bite-protecting plug into her protesting mouth, and Elfrida had clamped one hand over her favorite American's lips to keep it there!

"MRRRPFH!" Mel reiterated, squirming and struggling against her perfunctory but inescapable bonds and the maids' firm grips.  She continued struggling while, maintaining her hand-gag, Elfrida stepped behind and controlled her futile efforts to break free while Skylar reached into her apron pocket, produced a wide roll of Microfoam tape and a pair of stainless-steel bandage-scissors, snipped free a six or seven inch strip of the thick, off-white tape, stretched and plastered it over Mel's lips, mouth, and lower face, then smoothed it in place.

"Mrrrrrf!" Mel complained (at somewhat reduced volume).

Skylar stepped to the side and once again the maids held Mel's arms between them, easily controlling her struggles.  At the same time, smiling broadly, The Evil Cousin Bailey stepped forward and took Skylar's place in front of her wiggling, writhing, whining young cousin.

"Mrrrpfh!"  Mel continued doing her best to break free and make her displeasure crystal clear.

Bailey lifted Poor Mel's chin and smiled into the captive's blue eyes.  "Try not to damage her clothes as you peel her out of them," she purred, "then do a proper job of tying her up."

"Yes, Mistress," Skylar responded.

"We'll be careful, Mistress," Elfrida promised.

Still smiling (of course), Bailey gently gripped Mel's chin with her left hand, then used the fingers of her right hand to comb through Mel's somewhat tousled blond locks.  "Your little friends will take you on a tour of the local shops and pubs," she purred, "but not until day three.  For today and tomorrow we have other plans for our favorite junior archaeologist."

Mel stared daggers at her elderly cousin and seriously considered vigorously kneeing Bailey in the crotch and squarely on her hoo-haw... but decided it would be imprudent (and rude).

"I still have a few preparations to complete down below," Bailey added, then planted a quick kiss on Poor Mel's forehead—Smooch!—released her chin, and sauntered away.

The Evil Ninja-Maids took that as their cue to get to work.

"Mrrrrr!" Poor Mel complained as nimble fingers began unsnapping the buttons of her work-shirt and systematically removing her clothes, as The Evil Cousin Bailey had ordered.

"There's more rope in the bottom drawer of the sideboard," Elfrida purred, "isn't there?"

"There should be," Skylar confirmed, "but two full coils should be enough."

Mel continued struggling, twisting, and generally resisting, but to no avail.  Is there a room in this madhouse that doesn't have a cache of hemp rope? she wondered.  Also...

Mel's blue eyes blinked in distress.  Wait!  Did she say 'down below?'  The Dungeon?  Does she mean The Dungeon?  I'm finally getting my tour of The Dungeon?  "Mrrr?" she whimpered.

The maids continued executing their orders.  Based on the arguably wicked smiles on their mega-cute faces, they were enjoying themselves.

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Chapter 9

Chapter 11

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