by Van © 2026
		Chapter 11

The Evil Maids (Skylar and Elfrida) made quick work of peeling Poor Melody out of her work clothes... all of her work clothes... then revising and greatly enhancing her rope/cord bonds.  Their victim/playmate continued resisting (of course) but her physical efforts proved ineffective and her vocal protests and complaints muffled and inarticulate.  This stemmed from four major factors:

(1.)  Skylar and Elfrida were well trained and experienced damsel-handlers and bondage-riggers.

(2.)  Although she was doing her best to hide it, Mel was pulling her punches.  If asked she might even have admitted it (but her gag would have had to be removed first).  Why the charade?  Landing a solid blow or kick might damage something and/or reduce the comeliness of one of Her Wicked Ladyship's maid/minions, and who wanted that?  She didn't exactly submit to her total divestment, exposure, and bondage augmentation, but it happened anyway.

(3.)  Mel's current (and now former) Junior Archaeologist costume was a favorite, especially the earth-tone-plaid Western-style work-shirt, and she didn't want it to get ripped.

(4.)  There was no possibility that Poor Melody was only pretending to be gagged.  The silicon-rubber tongue-trapping and bite-protecting glob plugging her mouth and the taut, well-adhered Elastoplast strip plastered across her lower-face from ear-to-ear and nose-to-chin were obviously the real deal.  The proposition that Mel was faking being effectively silenced was absurd.

Oh-by-the-way, midway through the maids stripping and rebinding Dr. Jill's Feisty/Trusty Sidekick, the maids did something unexpected.  Once they had Mel out of her clothes and into most of an elaborate and inescapable box-tie, Elfrida reached into her apron pocket and produced a two-inch roll of pale-blue vet-wrap.  Then, while Skylar-the-pageboy-maid controlled the squirming, mewling and half-tied Mel, Elfrida-the-pixie-maid wrapped Mel's right hand into a clinched fist under tight (but not too tight) overlapping layers of the stretchy cloth tape... followed by her left hand.  The resulting baby-blue "fist-mummies" rendered Mel's fingers and hands utterly useless as escape aids.

Mel was impressed.  As a Delta-Iota-Delta sister she knew her tape bondage.  Elfie had done a neat, photogenic, and effective job... and Mel was equally impressed when the pixie-maid produced a second two-inch roll of tape, and this time it was either latex electrical tape or something very much like it, then used it to give Poor Melody double fist-mummies, completely covering the now underlying vet-wrap wrappings!  Mel's fisted hands were now black, shiny, smooth, and doubly useless.

The rope/cord binding resumed... and the final result was a naked Miss Melody, elegantly, elaborately, and inescapably box-tied with her forearms folded together behind her back and neatly wrapped with rope/cord from elbow-and-wrist to elbow-and-wrist.  The usual horizontal and diagonal doubled strands of tight hemp pinned her arms to her sides, yoked her shoulders, encircled her waist, and this time the maids had included doubled strands that crisscrossed between her breasts and a pair of crotch-ropes that cleaved her butt-cheeks and pussy!

Everything was tight (but not too tight) enough to dimple Mel's tan flesh, and the entire box-tie was well-cinched, with periodic hitches taken to maintain uniform tension.  The final knot was buried somewhere in the matrix of rope/cord behind Mel's back and between her shoulder blades, and thus would have been unreachable even if Mel's fingers and hands hadn't been converted to fist-mummies by the nimble fingers of The Evil Elfrida.  Without a doubt, Poor Melody's box-tie upheld the highest tradition of Bastion Cottage Bondage.  Lady Clifton would have been proud.

As for Mel's bare legs and feet, they weren't bound in any way.  That meant that if her Nefarious Captors turned their backs she'd be free to scamper away and find someplace to hide so she could work on escaping from her inescapable bonds, right?  Wrong!  The Evil Maids maintained close and highly tactile contact and gave Poor Melody their full attention, running their fingers and hands over her bonds and body in general, double-checking their work and confirming that their naked captive was totally helpless.

Mel's boobs were only slightly squeezed by the framing and crisscrossing rope/cords.  Also, her nipples were pointing, her butt-cheeks firm, her tummy flat (as well as smooth, firm, and charmingly well-sculpted), and her pubic bush and pussy-lips properly and evenly cleaved.

Due diligence was to be expected, but the maids were gloating.  They were gloating big time, as well as copping generous feels of Poor Melody's helplessly bound anatomy, and who could blame them?

Mel could blame them, that's who!  The nude, bound, and effectively gagged detainee glowered, stared daggers, shuffled her bare feet, and was seriously considering kicking and/or kneeing both maids where it would do the most good (and rudeness be damned)... but then the moment passed.

The grinning maids exchanged a high-five—Smack!—took firm grips on Poor Mel's box-tie-bonds, then dragged (led) her to the nearest Secret Door and into the clandestine Bastion Cottage labyrinth of Secret Passages.

Bailey couldn't help but smile.  Everything in the Dressing/Undressing Antechamber of Her Ladyship's Dungeon was ready for the arrival of her adorable young cousin and fellow blonde.  Coils of thin hemp rope were waiting on the bondage table and she'd confirmed that all the required elements of the planned entertainment were readily available in the cabinets and wardrobes lining the chamber's stone walls.  Adorable little Melody was in for a serious session, but Bailey knew none of it would be harmful and Mel would come through with colors flying.  She knew that from personal experience.

Just then (and as expected) the chamber's iron-banded and studded timber door opened and the uniformed maids ushered the naked, tape-gagged (with silicon-rubber tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstopper) and thoroughly box-tied Mel into the chamber.

Bailey's smile broadened.  "Excellent," she purred, stepped forward, and conducted a quick and thorough visual and tactile inspection of Skylar and Elfrida's handiwork.  "Excellent," she reiterated, then flipped her right wrist, gracefully indicating the bondage table.

Without further prompting the maids hustled Mel to the table, lifted her up—"Mrrrfh!"—positioned her full-length on her back, bound arms, rope-cleaved butt, and weakly thrashing legs on its hard, smooth surface.  Then, they selected coils of the hemp rope/cord Mistress Bailey had so thoughtfully arrayed on the table and prepared them for use.

Mel had noted that the leather cuffs formerly running in the steel-lined slots at the head and foot of the table were missing.  Currently, she was reclined on what was just a Medieval-style table of heavy timbers with numerous iron rings dangling from its four edges.  She considered trying to roll off the table and escape, but then the grinning maids set to work and she decided not to bother.

When The Evil Bailey's Minion-Maids stepped back... Mel's legs were as elaborately and tightly (but not too tightly) bound as her upper body (including her hoo-haw).  Specifically, her legs were lashed together around and between her mid-thighs, above and below her knees, her mid-lower-legs, as well as her ankles, feet, and big-toes!  Poor Melody kicked and squirmed and writhed on the hard wooden surface, exploring her enhanced bondage—but carefully.  The last thing she wanted was to roll off the table and crash to the stone floor!  That would hurt, and might very well reduce her comeliness.

Not to worry.  Elfrida was on the left side of the table and Skylar the right, smiling (gloating), and ready to grab her if her struggles became too strenuous.

Finally, Mel stopped moving.  She "relaxed" on her back, bound arms, butt, and bound legs atop the hard, textured, but ultimately smooth wooden surface and panted through flaring nostrils.  Her rope framed (and slightly squeezed) breasts heaved (a little) while her heart pounded in her chest (a little).

Cousin Bailey stepped close to the head of the table and, smiling evilly (of course), began combing her fingers through Mel's tousled blond locks.

"Excellent work, girls," Bailey purred.

"Thank you, Mistress," Skylar and Elfrida chirped in unison, then dropped quick and simultaneous curtsies.  Mel thought their display of servile subservience was truly disgusting (and very cute).

Bailey shifted her sinister smile back to Mel.  "You know yourself to be completely helpless, don't you darling?"  Her fingers were still sliding through the prisoner-on-the-table's blond mop. "You'll never be able to wiggle and squirm your way out of Skylar and Elfrida's handiwork, no matter how much time I decide to give you... and your fingers and hands are taped and useless.  Pooooor Melody."

Mel squirmed in her inescapable and elaborate bonds and glowered up at her Wicked Cousin.  "Mrrrpfhrrrm!" she muttered through her gag.  Was the naked prisoner's well-muffled remark unforgivably rude and impolite?  Yes, but it seemed appropriate.

"Now," Bailey continued, "believe it or not, this is not a rope exercise.  This is the continuation and completion of your Leather Initiation."

Mel frowned above her tape-gag (with silicon-rubber tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstopper).  Leather? she wondered.  What leather?  And what about that damned bolero-jacket?  I thought the jacket was my 'Leather Initiation.'

Bailey lifted her smiling gaze to her minions.  "Girls." she purred.

The maids took that as a command and sprang into action.  That is, they strolled to a timber wardrobe, opened its door, and returned to the table carrying a...  Mel blinked her blue eyes several times.  What the hell is that thing? she wondered.

Whatever it was, it was black leather, was very long, and had a lot of dangling straps, most of which were thick and wide with double-tongued buckles!  There were also a lot of steel D-rings.  The maids lay the whatever-it-was on the table next to Mel without giving her much of an opportunity to sort it all out.

Mel heard the rattling sound of the various straps and buckles being arranged... followed by the distinctive sound of a zipper being unzipped.  Ziiiiiiip!  Then, working in concert (as usual)—"Mrrrrrf!"—the maids lifted Poor Melody and set her down atop the whatever-it-was, slid her bound big-toes, feet, ankles, and lower legs into its foot, then shrugged her rope-yoked shoulders into its top and the truth became clear!  "Nrrrf!"  The black leather thing in question was a black leather body-sheath... or body-sack... or sleep-sack (although Mel had no intention whatsoever of going to sleep)!  However the manufacturer had labeled it in their catalog, it was obvious the thing had the potential to enclose, encase, and contain her... everything!

And then, Elfrida held the sides of the sheath together while Skylar closed the lower half of what was now revealed to be a two-part or double zipper from Mel's ankles up to her crotch—Ziiiiiiip!—then closed the upper half from under her chin and down to her crotch!  Ziiiiiiip!  The smiling pageboy-maid then buckled a thin strap with a single tongue across Mel's throat, securing the sack's tight (but not too tight) integrated collar!

Mel struggled, squirmed, and explored the limits of the black leather enclosure.  It was a reasonable fit, and had obviously been designed with a box-tied wearer in mind.  She was helpless (or rather more helpless as she was already helpless thanks to her rope/cord bonds and tape fist-mummies!  That said, she did have a little wiggle-room.  Not much, but some.

Meanwhile, Bailey had strolled to a cabinet and returned with—Mel's blue eyes popped to their maximum width!—a silver and black wand-style vibrator with a very long and neatly coiled USB-style cable!  "Nrrrrrm!"

Bailey and the maids ignored Mel's lack of enthusiasm and worked in concert to open the dual zippers several inches directly over her crotch and thigh region... then slide the vibrator into an interior leather pocket or sleeve cunningly designed to anchor the wand between Mel's thighs with its knob-like business end firmly pressed against her rope/cord-cleaved lady-bits!  They then closed the zippers—Ziiip!  Ziiip!—and Bailey vripped a tiny black cable-tie through the zippers' fobs, apparently for added security.  The wand's long thin cord emerged from between the zipper-closures and trailed off to the side.

Poor Melody (especially her hoo-haw) had a new best friend!

Smiling evilly (or course) Bailey watched as the maids continued securing the sheath.  This involved the D-rings, and the straps.

The D-rings:  Once again working together as a well-drilled team, the maids threaded a length of black paracord through the two rows of D-rings on either side of the zipper, crisscrossing the sheath every inch or so in the manner of a very long bootlace.  This took a while.

It became clear a pair of long gussets were integral to the sheath's design, and while it had been tight before, as the two sides closed the enclosure became progressively more and more tight... until it was uniformly very tight indeed!  Then, Elfrida tied a bow somewhere under Mel's chin, Skylar produced a lacing tool of the kind used to tighten the laces of ice-skates, and worked her way from the ankle region all the way to the top, further stretching the leather and eliminating any remaining folds and creases!

The taut sleeve now hugged the entire length of Mel's body so tightly she could barely move, much less squirm!  Fortunately, she could still breathe, but the enclosure granted her zero wiggle-room!

The maids then tied some sort of complex and super-tight knot (Mel was sure it wasn't another bow) to secure the paracord lacing, then used bandage scissors to snip off the free ends.

"Mrrrmpfh!" Mel complained, squirming and struggling.  She was convinced she couldn't be more helpless.  She was wrong.  She'd forgotten about the straps!

The maids had not.

The straps:  Smiling like the incredibly cute minions of a sadistic mistress that they were, the maids worked their way down Mel's leather-encased form, tightening the thick, wide straps with double-tongued buckles around her upper-arms and boobs, waist, hips and crotch area, mid-thighs, mid-lower-legs, and ankles.  The straps were all anchored in place by wide belt-loops sewn into the sheath, as well as by their tightness.  Skylar and Elfrida then went back over the straps, tightening each and every one until they were as tight as possible.  In Mel's considered opinion, the sheath and its straps were now unnecessarily tight!

Mel's struggles were now even more futile, something she wouldn't have thought possible prior to the buckling and re-buckling of the straps.  "Normal" breathing remained possible, but deep breaths were severely restricted thanks to the wide strap squashing her boobs!  The leather-encased-captive tried to muster the Righteous Indignation appropriate to the occasion by staring sharp, imaginary, but ultimately harmless daggers at The Evil Cousin Bailey, The Evil Maid Skylar, and The Evil (but Mega-Cute) Maid Elfrida, but she knew she wasn't carrying it off.  At best she was coming across as Profoundly Unhappy (and probably more than a little terrified).

Okay, Poor Melody wasn't terrified, but she was definitely apprehensive.

Bailey smiled down at her young cousin.

The maids smiled as well.

Mel mustered what remained of her dwindling stock of Brave Defiance and glared up at Cousin Bailey's smug, infuriating, and increasingly punchable face.  She also squirmed and struggled... a little... a very little.  Mostly she just thought about squirming and struggling.

Bailey shifted her smile to the Minion Maids.  "Well, what are you waiting for?  You know your orders.  Get on with it."

"Yes, Mistress," Skylar and Elfrida responded, dropped quick curtsies, then scurried to the cabinet for additional supplies.  When the dust settled...

●  A leather Gwen hood now encased Poor Melody's head as tightly as the body-sheath, leaving only an oval-shaped opening exposing her nose, eyes, forehead, and the bangs of her otherwise encased short blond mop.  Two straps integrated into the hood's design reinforced her tape-gag (with tongue-trapping and bite-protecting silicon-rubber gobstopper).  The first cupped her chin, covered her entire lower-face, and buckled across the crown of her hooded head.  The second strap was horizontal, stretched across her already leather-covered mouth, and buckled at the nape of her neck.

●  A wide collar (more-or-less a posture collar) was buckled around Mel's neck.  It covered both the collar of the body-sheath and the lower-hem/collar of the Gwen-hood.  Poor Melody was now encased in tight leather from head to toe with only her upper-face exposed!

●  The maids deployed additional coils of hemp rope/cord and passed doubled strands through the numerous iron rings embedded in the periphery of the table and the numerous remaining D-rings sewn into the sides of Mel's sheath—all the rings and all the D-rings!  The result was a symmetrical crisscross-web of taut hemp that even further restricted Mel's ability to wiggle, writhe, or twitch.

Mel blinked her eyes and gazed up at her smiling (gloating) cousin.  She could lift and turn her leather-encased head (to the limits imposed by her collar), but that was all.  She tested her ability to Bravely and Defiantly Complain (or weakly whimper)—"Mrrrrrf!"—with severely inadequate results.  The prisoner-of-the-table hadn't thought it was possible to be this helpless... but apparently (obviously) she'd been wrong.

Cousin Bailey smiled down at Poor Melody (gloating like the villain in a Bond movie)... then turned to Skylar and pointed to a corner beyond Mel's limited field of vision.  "Get the 'Insidious Device,'" she ordered.

Mel blinked again.  She'd clearly heard the quotes around the term "Insidious Device."  Her wicked elderly cousin was being dramatic.  She's trying to scare me, Mel thought.  It's working.

Seconds passed... then Skylar pushed a small wheeled cart close to the left side of Mel and her table.  Resting on the cart was an elaborately carved box of darkly stained wood about the size of a hatbox or makeup case.  The pageboy-maid lifted the box's lid, then Elfrida, with a sad (and adorably cute) smile, lifted the end of the long, thin, black cable trailing from the wand vibrator currently nudging Mel's lady-bits and trailing from between the skintight sheath's zipper-fobs, and handed it to Skylar... who plugged it into whatever was inside the wooden box.

"Battery?" Bailey inquired.

"Fully charged, Mistress" Skylar responded.  "Ready for 20-plus hours of continuous use."

"Or much longer given the nature of the program," Bailey purred, then pointed to Elfrida, who was still gazing at Mel with the same sad smile.  "Secure that one," she ordered, obviously addressing Skylar.

"M-mistress?" Elfrida gasped, then her eyes popped wide as her fellow maid pounced.  "No!  Sky-lar!  Mistress!  Nooo!  Pleeease!—Mrrrf!"

Mel watched (as best she could) as the pageboy-maid grabbed the pixie-maid, pulled Elfrida's arms behind her back and controlled them with her left arm, clamped a firm hand-gag over the incredibly cute Elfrida's incredibly cute mouth, then dragged her out of Mel's field of vision.

Once again Bailey smiled down at Mel.

Mel gazed up at Bailey.  She could only follow what was happening to Elfrida by the noise she was making, which she considered to be very inconsiderate.  Mel wanted to watch!

"Mrrrrr!  No!  Sky-lar!  MRRRMPFH!"

Elfrida's tragic, pitiful, and heartbreaking tirade was followed by several seconds of what was probably the sounds of slithering rope... then both maids stepped back into view.

Skylar was unchanged, although her pageboy was semi-tousled and her cute little white maid's cap slightly cattywampus.  Apparently, The Binding of Elfrida had been a mutually strenuous affair.  Speaking of which...

Elfrida was now wearing one of Her Ladyship's apparently endless inventory of black leather panel-gags with black mouth-filling plugs.  She was also sporting a box-tie using more of Her Ladyship's equally endless inventory of thin, conditioned, hemp rope.  That is, her arms were folded behind her back with doubled strands pinning her arms to her sides, passing above and below her boobs, and yoking her shoulders.  The ropes also encircled her waist and dove between legs, lifting her black skirt and white maid's apron and cleaving her knickers-clad pussy!  It anchored the box-tie below, just as the shoulder-yoke anchored it above!  That said, the box-tie was arguably minimal, not nearly as elaborate as Skylar's previous rigging efforts (in Mel's experience).  Apparently she'd been going for the simple control her fellow maid, not making an artistic statement.  In Mel's opinion, she'd succeeded, meaning Poor Pouting Elfrida was obviously under control.  Her maid's costume was rumpled and her cute little maid's cap decidedly wonky and barely hanging on.  It was very cute.

Skylar led her fellow maid forward... and Bailey smiled (gloated), ran her fingers through Elfrida's pixie and restored her cap to at least some degree of order.

"Mrrrf?" Elfrida whined through her gag, her blue eyes blinking in distress.

"I don't trust her not to interfere with Miss Melvin's Leather Initiation," Bailey explained to Skylar.

"She is a bit of a softie," Skylar purred.

"She's also enamored with my young cousin," Bailey chuckled.

"Aren't we all?" Skylar inquired.

"Mrrrf," Elfrida whined, then heaved a gagged sigh.  Once again, it was very cute.

"Indeed," Bailey agreed, then leaned close and planted a kiss on Elfrida's forehead.  "Take her upstairs to my bedchamber, strip her naked, and tie her in a standing spread-eagle against the lower bedposts, facing the mattress."

"Flogging position?" Skylar inquired.

Bailey nodded.  "Nice and tight, and make sure she doesn't escape while you peel her out of her uniform and lash her in place.  Otherwise, there will be two floggings."

"Yes, Mistress." Skylar responded.

"Nrrrrrm!" Poor Elfrida whined.  (Did Mel think it was cute?  No, ya think!)

"Go," Bailey ordered.

Both maids curtsied, the pageboy-maid and the bound and gagged pixie-maid prisoner, then Skylar dragged (led) Elfrida from the chamber.

"Mrrrf!" Elfrida reiterated as they crossed the threshold, then the door closed—Thud!—and Mistress Bailey and Poor Melody were alone.

"Mrrrmf!" Mel complained, scowling up at her Wicked Cousin.  How dare she order Skylar to strip Elfie naked and prepare her for flagellation... and not let her watch!  It was... mean... malevolent...  inconsiderate... downright bitchy!

"Don't have kittens, darling," Bailey chuckled.  "I'll only flog her a little.  It will be very dramatic and she'll make quite a fuss, of course, but it's all in fun."  Her smile widened (and became even more wicked).  "Elfrida's fair complexion takes on the most delightful shade of pink under the whip.  Remind me to show you sometime.  Skylar does as well.  I can't wait to see how your tan skin responds to the lash, but that will have to wait until Lady Clifton decides you're ready for your first flogging.

Mel continued glaring at her evil and elderly (40-something) cousin.  You don't scare me! she silently fumed... much.

Bailey leaned close and began tucking the errant strands of Mel's blond bangs under the top margin of her Gwen hood.  It was difficult as the leather being quite taut, but her efforts were largely successful.  "Back to your predicament," she purred as she worked.  "Let's see now...  you're naked, just as Elfrida will soon be naked.  You're tightly bound from head to toe... or more precisely from big toes to shoulders, using Her Ladyship's finest conditioned hemp.  All the knots are completely beyond the reach of your fingers and hands... which, unfortunately, are clenched into fists and wrapped in taut, overlapping, inescapable layers of two different kinds of tape and therefore, at the moment can't untie as much as a simple bow.  Finally, you're laced and strapped into a skintight body-sack."

The grinning (gloating) Wicked Villainess began checking the tightness of each and every strap of the leather body-sack in question.  Apparently, in her opinion (which at the moment was the only opinion that mattered in the Dressing/Undressing Chamber of Lady Clifton's Dungeon) none of the buckles required adjustment. 

"Mrrrm!" Poor Melody bleated.  She also squirmed and struggled with all her strength.  (If you watched her tightly encased body very closely you might be able to just make it out.)

"And for safety's sake," Bailey continued, "you and the sheath are lashed down to the table by a taut web of more of the same same hemp rope as your underlying bonds.  Of course, I could have ordered the girls to use steel chains instead.  There are virtues to either approach.  Chain is so deliciously strong and implacable, and the rattling when you struggle can be downright musical; but on the other hand rope can be pulled as taut as the stereotypical fiddle string... as it is now."

Bailey strolled to the foot of the table and gazed down the full length of her young cousin's encased form.

Mel lifted her hooded head off the table, to the minuscule amount allowed by the posture collar, and glared back.  "Mrrrmfh!" she stated, for clarification and emphasis.

"What was that, darling?" Bailey inquired.  "You want to discuss your gag as well?  Or should I say gags, plural.  Lets see now... silicon-rubber mouth plug, Elastoplast tape, and the smooth, taut leather of the hood... more redundancy.  And that brings us to the posture collar.  It's largely for aesthetics, to cover the collar of the body-sack and the bottom of the hood.  The way it restricts your head motion is an added bonus.  Let's see now... how many layers of total helplessness does that make?  Something like... three?  From head to toe?"  She shrugged.  "No matter."

Mel stared exotic, wickedly sharp, imaginary, and completely ineffectual daggers, knives, dirks, poniards, bayonets, and even the occasional kukri at her cousin, and continued doing so as the older blonde strolled to a cabinet, opened a drawer, produced a small, thin pillow with a zip-on pillowcase of burgundy silk, carried it to the table, lifted Mel's hooded head, and carefully positioned the cushion underneath.

"There.  Nice and comfy," The Evil Bailey purred.

"Mrrrf!" Mel huffed, then watched as her cousin strolled to the "Insidious Device," the ornate wooden box resting on the cart with the cable linked to the wand-style vibrator under the sheath and making cozy with her rope/cord-cleaved hoo-haw.  Poor Melody's blue eyes popped wide.  What with all Bailey's gloating and exposition she'd plumb forgot about the damn vibrator!  How could I forget about the doorknob-size head of the vibrator smushed against my pussy? the utterly helpless prisoner-of-the-table wondered.

"Helen has been refining this thing's program for years," Bailey explained, indicating the box with a graceful flip of her right wrist.  "In essence, it's a mini computer that controls the duration and intensity of the vibrator, including rest intervals of random duration."  Still smiling her irritating (and frightening) smile, Bailey began turning dials and throwing switches... at least that's what Mel thought she was doing.  Her cousin was fiddling with things on the top surface of whatever was in the box and therefore it was beyond Mel's direct line of sight.  All she could hear was clicking noises... but none of the clicks seemed to be having a direct effect on the vibrator.  That is, the vibrator remained quiescent... but for how long?

"There," Bailey said, apparently throwing a final switch.  She then closed the lid of The Insidious Device—Thud!—strolled back to the head of the table, and smiled down at its helpless occupant.

Mel was no longer glaring and/or glowering.  She was too worried about why The Insidious Device had been labeled "Insidious."

Bailey continued her exposition.  "I've set the program on one hundred percent frustration," she purred.  "Each vibratory sessions will be no less that three and no more than five minutes in duration, and will fluctuate between low and medium intensity in a variety of patterns.  The intervening rest intervals will be equally brief, no more that eight to ten minutes each."  She dialed her gloating smile up to eleven (as the saying goes).  "The goal is frustration, as I mentioned.  Complete and total frustration while keeping you occupied.  There will be no orgasms... as well as no catnaps.  As also mentioned, Helen has been refining the program for years.  You'll find Frustration Mode to be very effective.  There's a slight chance that at some point you might achieve the first quivering ripples of an orgasm before the program switches off the wand, but it's not very likely... not very likely at all.  By the way, right now you're in what we like to call the prologue or preamble rest interval.  I could tell you how long it will last and when the first vibratory session will begin... but what would be the fun in that?"

And with that hilarious bon mot The Wicked Mistress Bailey spun on her expensive high-heeled pumps and sauntered towards the chamber door.

"Mrrrpf!" Mel whimpered.  Yes, she whimpered.  She wasn't proud of it, but she whimpered.

Bailey paused in the open doorway.  "Oh, that's right," she said snapping her fingers, "I haven't told you how many hours I intend to leave you down here, have I?"  Seconds ticked by.  "Ciao, darling," The Evil Mistress Bailey wished her young cousin, stepped into the passageway, closed the iron-banded and studded timber door—Thud!—and was gone.

All was still in the chamber.  Mel's heart was pounding, but there was no outward sign.  She would like to be drawing deep, even breaths, but the strap compressing her boobs limited her to shallow breaths only.

Seconds ticked by... and became a minute.

I suppose I ought to put some serious effort into escaping, Mel decided.

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Chapter 10

Chapter 12

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