by Van © 2026
		Chapter 12

Poor Melody had no idea exactly how many hours she'd been naked—stringently bound from her shoulders to her big toes—her fingers and hands mummified in tight fists under two layers of two different varieties of tape—her mouth plugged with a silicon-rubber tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstopper—her lips sealed by a wide strip of medical tape—her head encased in a black leather Gwen-hood with the rest of her body encased in a skintight body-sheath of black leather—lashed to the bondage table of the Dressing/Undressing Antechamber of Lady Clifton's Dungeon—and with a computer-controlled wand-style vibrator firmly squashed against her pussy and buzzing off and on in a deliberately frustrating manner... but it was quite a few... meaning quite a few hours... maybe.

And during all that entire interval, totally helpless, being repeatedly subjected to brief but elaborate and unpredictable vibratory arpeggios... followed by rest periods of limited and unpredictable duration... she never once came... meaning Poor Melody was denied as much as a single orgasm!  It was... torture!  (No, ya think?)

By the time it was finally over, Mel had been transformed into what the maids later revealed they referred to as a "Horny Banger" (seeing as she'd become a leather sausage of overstimulated erotic tension.  Poor Melody!  Anyhoo, she was transported upstairs... somehow.

What followed next was... release from the body-sack... release from her hemp rope/cord bondage... followed by a sponge bath... followed by a full-body massage... followed by...  She was in something of a semi-conscious dither and wasn't sure what they did to her... but orgasms were involved.  Mel was exhausted, over-excited, numb, and tingling all over (which even then she knew was contradictory and made no sense).  Hands were gliding over her body... stroking, poking, prodding, and caressing her repeatedly... the smiling faces of Elfrida and Skylar swam in and out of her vision (but not Cousin Bailey's)... and she took repeated catnaps... only to be awakened and subjected to more snuggling, snogging, and diddling by various fingers and tongues!

Some time later...

Mel opened her eyes.  She was lying on her back on what she was sure was the rumpled surface of the fourposter bed of her guest bedchamber.  Her fingers and hands were still clenched and tightly wrapped under overlapping layers of vet-wrap and gleaming black latex tape.  That is, they were still fist-mummies.  The gobstopper was still plugging her mouth, the tape strip sealing her lips, and her head encased in the Gwen-hood.  Only her blinking blue eyes and button nose were exposed.

Judging by the light peeking through the gauze-thin inner-drapes of the bedchamber's windows, it was very early morning.  The sun might not yet have officially risen.

Oh-by-the-way, Elfrida was lying on her tummy between Mel's splayed legs and was naked, hogtied, and using her lips and tongue to probe Mel's pussy!  (That was probably what had woken her up.)  Elfrida's hogtie was stringent, of the box-tie-frog-tie-crossed-ankles-tie variety.  The heels of the pixie-maid's bare feet were squashed against her bare buttocks.  Her entire body was in a taut bow!

Mel was pretty sure Elfrida had been at it for a while (meaning doing her best to give Mel's hoo-haw a tongue-lashing) and another orgasm was definitely building.  All things considered, it wasn't the worst way to wake up in the morning.  Poor Mel endured her ordeal for several seconds... then shivered and "screamed" through her gag and hood—"MRRRRRF!—as waves of erotic energy rebounded through her quivering pussy!  She then sighed, planted her bare feet, and pushed herself a few inches beyond the range of Elfrida's face and placed her fist-mummies on the pixie-maid's rope-yoked shoulders to maintain the tongue-to-pussy distance.

Elfrida smiled and licked her lips.  "Good morning, darling," she beamed.  Elfie was very cute, all naked and hog-tied and smiling, even without her glasses.

"Mrrmpgh!" Mel replied, followed by additional emphatic but well-muffled demands to know what the hell was going on, but all that came out as "M'rmmm'fhrmpfh!  MRRRmfh!  Mrrrrrrrrm!"  Mel also writhed on the bed, visually inspected her fist-mummies, then attempted to use said fist-mummies to somehow release the buckles securing her Gwen-hood.  Her efforts were pathetic and unsuccessful, to say the least (although Elfrida found her flustered efforts very entertaining).  "Mrrrf!" Mel complained, then stopped struggling and directed her glowering glaze at Elfrida's still smiling face.

"Skylar slept with Bailey," Elfrida stated (as if she was answering Mel's "questions").  "They should be here with breakfast at any moment."  She squirmed and tested her inescapable hogtie.  "...meaning eventually."  Her smile widened.  "You're getting a day of bed rest, and I'll be here to keep you company.  Isn't that wonderful, darling?"

"Mrrrf!" Mel complained, then lifted a leg over Elfrida's naked and hogtied form, rolled off the bed, stomped (padded) to the attached bathroom, and emptied her bladder.  She then stared at her Gwen-hooded head and exposed upper-face in the mirror over the washbasin.  She would like to take a drink, but that wasn't possible.  Her blue eyes frowned.  She thought she remembered that at some point in the recent past her hood, tape-gag, and rubber gobstopper had been removed and she had been given a refreshing drink... some sort of lemon-lime sports drink... possibly.  Then the plug, tape-gag, and hood had been restored.  It was all very vague... but it had happened.  She was sure of it.  Anyway, at the moment... drinking anything was impossible.

Mel stomped (padded) back into the main bedchamber... onto the bed... then managed to lift and slide her hogtied bed-mate several inches up the mattress... then snuggled close.  Mel was now more-or-less on her back with Elfrida's smiling head resting on her chest (and right boob).  There was significant skin-on-skin contact.

"We're going to have so much fun from now on," Elfrida said, "now that you've passed your formal Leather and Rope Initiations."

"Mrrrf!" Mel ordered.

"What was that, darling?"

"MRRRF!" Mel reiterated.

"Oh!  You want me to be quiet?" Elfrida responded.  "I suppose that's for the best."  She snuggled even closer, as best her hogtie-bonds would allow.  "I could tell you about the sorts of things Her Ladyship and Mistress Bailey do to Skylar, myself, and select visitors like Dr. Russell, but that would spoil the surprises, plural.  For example, take your upcoming Steel Initiation, whenever Her Ladyship decides to make it happen.  I could tell you what she's done in the past and therefore what she might do to you, and with what, but I can't, and I shouldn't.  Understand?"

Mel rolled her blue eyes.  If it wasn't for the damned fist-mummies, she could climb out of bed, fetch a pair (or two) of dirty panties from the hamper (assuming one of the maids hadn't taken time off from torturing her yesterday to do the laundry), then one of her bandanas, then gag the already conveniently hogtied Chatty Cathy doll sharing her bed.

"And then there's Her Ladyship's Dungeon!" Elfrida continued.  "A pity I can't tell you about the various devices and torture engines in the various chambers.  They're all terrifying, more-or-less fully functional props from one of those old Hammer Studio horror movies!  Simply terrifying!  I love old movies like that.  They make me shiver."

Mel closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the adorable and mega-cute maid's droning and giggling monologue.

Eventually... Mel managed to drift back to sleep.  She was that exhausted.

Lady Clifton and Dr. Walker returned in triumph from their academic quest for partners and allies.  Once the legal niceties were completed and the charter of the Cumberdale Archaeological Institute (CAI) finalized and signed, there would be no shortage of scholarly collaborators and trained volunteers to help with the first dig.

Jill had proposed taking advantage of their newly negotiated expert support to begin multiple digs at once, but Her Ladyship had vetoed the suggestion for four reasons:

(1.)  She didn't want hordes of "tomb raiders and dusty diggers excavating the entire estate all at once."

(2.)  It was inevitable that the CAI would have "growing pains."  Better to proceed with deliberate speed and careful planning to minimize missteps.

(3.)  She wanted Jill to get full credit for all the discoveries to come, and that included lead authorship on the majority of the academic papers and monographs that would inevitably result.  Her Ladyship was proud of Jill for putting science before her personal ambitions, but she wanted the career of "her favorite archaeologist" to prosper.  Also...

(4.)  Whatever was buried under the estate had been there a very long time and there was no reason any of it couldn't remain undiscovered a little longer.

All of this was discussed and decided on their way back to Bastion Cottage.

Jill was touched by Helen's concern for her career and their relationship had long since evolved into a solid friendship.  Was Lady Clifton her patron and the dominant voice on the CAI board of trustees?  Yes.  So what?  She was paying for everything and not cutting corners.  Jill resolved she would do her best work ever on each and every dig, whenever they happened.  Also, she resolved to be the best mentor possible for adorable little Melvin.

There was an impromptu celebration the evening of Her Ladyship and Dr. Jill's triumphant return.  Cook prepared a special dinner.  The Maids served it.  Lady Clifton, Dr. Jill, and Mistress Bailey consumed it.

During the next week Jill and Mel completed the initial surveys of the remaining identified dig sites and checked and rechecked their preparations for the first test trench of the first dig.  There was still three weeks to go before the arrival of the first group of volunteers, so they found themselves in a lull in the activity.

Everybody performed their daily exercise.  Jill and Mel continued polished their preparations for the imminent dig, including developing a training plan for the less experienced of the soon-to-arrive helpers.  Mistress Bailey had already made the necessary arrangements to house and feed the diggers.  Some would be lodged on the estate and some in the neighboring villages.

The maids went about their usual tasks (and remained being incredibly cute).

Lady Clifton continued writing her next novel.

And then, on a cold, rainy morning nine days after Her Ladyship and Dr. Jill's return...

Jill had just enjoyed a long swim in Her Ladyship's greenhouse pool.  Thirty vigorous laps!  She would have liked to have taken a run on one of the estate's many trails instead, perhaps the one that looped around the ruins of Cumberdale Castle, but not in the cold rain.  Jill hated wearing waterproof rain suits, and especially exercising in waterproof rain suits.  It always left her clammy and sweaty.  If she was going to be drenched in something, it might as well be chlorinated water.  She'd decided to take a swim and follow it up with a visit to Her Ladyship's sauna.

Anyway, aquatic exercise accomplished, Jill toweled herself mostly dry, padded to the sauna off the gym's shower room, removed her bikini, and hung it from one of the row of a dozen wooden pegs near the towel rack.  It was then that she noted the pair of standard Bastillon Cottage cotton robes hanging from neighboring pegs.  The sauna might already be in use.  She rinsed off any residual chlorine from the pool under the shower next to the cedar door... then, dripping wet and nude, entered the sauna.

The hot, dry space was, indeed, already occupied.  Lady Clifton and Bailey were smiling, sitting side-by-side on the upper tier of seats, as nude as the new arrival, and glistening with sweat.

"Jill, darling!" Her Ladyship purred, then stood and indicated the cedar bench with a graceful gesture.

Meanwhile, Bailey had also climbed to her feet and was using a wooden bucket and ladle to wet down the middle area of the bench, being careful to avoid the pair of folded towels on either side.

"Uh, thank you, Your Ladyship," Jill said, then settled her rump on the wet bench.

Lady Clifton chuckled.  "Please, call me Helen," she said as she sat on Jill's right... very close to Jill's flank.

Bailey shook her head as she sat close (very close) to Jill's left flank.  "That would be improper as Dr. Walker is still a proselyte.  She hasn't passed all three of her trials: rope, leather, and steel."

Jill's blue eyes widened.  "Huh?  I mean... I've been tied up... with rope... but..."  She turned to Her Naked Ladyship.  "Leather?  Steel?"

"An official initiation must be officially designated as such," Bailey solemnly intoned, "otherwise it's just playtime."

Jill turned back to Bailey.  "You're making this stuff up!" she accused.

Bailey favored the naked archaeologist with a superior smile.  "The rules and bylaws of the Bastillon Cottage Bondage Society were formally codified in the eighteenth century," she intoned.

"You're making that up too!" Jill scoffed.  "And that's not the name you used for all this 'gang' stuff before.  You called it... uh... something else... something I don't remember."

"Dr. Russell will return for a two month visit next week," Bailey noted.  "You can ask her to show you the relevant records in the archives, but I assure you she'll confirm everything I've said."

Jill turned to Lady Clifton.  "If you don't want me to call you Helen," she pouted, "I won't."

Still smiling, Her Ladyship rested her left hand on Jill's tight thigh, then leaned close and planted a kiss on the archaeologist's down turned lips.  "I would very much like for you to call me Helen," she purred, "at least in private, but rules are rules."  She shifted her smile to Bailey.  "As President for Life of the Society I am empowered to modify or even waive any of its rules and traditions, be they formal or informal."

Bailey begrudgingly acknowledged Her Ladyship's point with a reluctant nod.

"But not to worry," Lady Clifton continued, her smile broadening.  "Tradition is important.  After you pass today's Steel Initiation, I'll grant a formal dispensation and allow you to address me by my Christian name."

Bailey shrugged.  "That'll work."

Jill looked from Lady Clifton's (Helen's) smiling face to Bailey's smiling face.  "Wait!  Slow down!  What 'Steel Initiation?'  What are you gonna..."  Her blue eyes widened as each of her fellow naked blondes reached between the folds of the white, soft, fluffy, terrycloth towels on their far sides and produced loose coils of thin hemp rope!  She quickly focused on Lady Clifton's gorgeous, tan, sweaty, and smiling face.  "Can we talk about this?"

And then... did Lady Clifton and Mistress Bailey pounce on poor, naked, and now somewhat sweaty Dr. Jill Walker, Her Ladyship's Resident Archaeologist?

Yes!  Lady Clifton and Mistress Bailey pounced on poor, naked, somewhat sweaty Dr. Jill Walker, Her Ladyship's Resident Archaeologist!

When the nonexistent dust raised by the very real pouncing had settled... Jill's wrists were crossed and bound behind her back, as well as being pinned against the small of her back by a tight loop of rope/cord cinched around her waist!  Also, her ankles, feet and big-toes were tightly and neatly bound together!  Finally—"Mrrrpfh!"—one of Her Ladyship's collection of black leather panel-gags plugged her oral cavity, pressed against her lips, and was being buckled tight at the small of her neck.

"Mrrrmpf!" Jill reiterated.  (She had a valid point.)

Her Ladyship and Bailey grinned and watched as Jill tugged on her wrist-bonds and kicked her bound feet—or rather—they smiled as Jill tugged on her wrist-bonds and tried to kick her bound feet.  Bailey was holding down her bound legs while Her Ladyship was cradling her gagged head in her naked lap and controlling her upper-body, all the while combing her finger's through Jill's short, wet, and decidedly tousled blond locks.

"I believe Bailey and I have had enough of the sauna," Lady Clifton purred.

"Indeed, Helen," Bailey concurred as she winked at Jill.

"However, you just got here, darling," Her Ladyship continued.  "We'll leave you to continue your bask while we shower and get dressed."

With that, the naked Lady Clifton and naked Mistress Bailey extricated themselves from the naked Jill's bound, gagged, and weakly thrashing body... paused to smile (gloat) at the naked, bound, gagged, and increasingly flushed and sweating initiate... then made their exit, quickly closing the door behind them to minimize the loss of the very hot and humidity-free air.  Thud.

"Mrrrrrfff!  Mmmmpfh!  NRRRM!" Jill whined.  Truer words were never spoken, but she didn't have an audience.

Jill continued fighting her bonds, but carefully.  She didn't want to get too enthusiastic and thereby roll herself off the bench.  Then, after only a few seconds, she stopped and heaved a gagged sigh.  Resistance was futile, even though compared to past predicaments her bondage was arguably minimal.  She sighed again, then blinked stinging beads of sweat from of her blue eyes.  She was perspiring... a lot... which was the entire point of being in the sauna.  She'd been dripping wet from the shower when she entered Her Ladyship's cedar paneled trap... then had more-or-less dried out... and now she was dripping wet again, only now with sweat.

More time passed.

Sweat beaded and dripped down her smooth, firm, tan, flushed, bound and gagged body.

And then—Finally!—the door opened and Mistress Bailey reentered the sauna.  She was smiling (of course), her blond hair was visibly damp and pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing the same expensive and stylish but functional and business-friendly ensemble of high-heel pumps, skirt, and blouse that she'd worn to breakfast.

"Mrrrmf!" Jill complained.

Without saying a word (but nonetheless gloating in a very irritating manner) Bailey deftly untied Jill's ankle-foot-and-big-toes rope/cord... looped it around her neck and tied a non-compacting knot to form an impromptu leash... then dragged (led) the naked, bound, gagged, flushed, and very sweaty archaeologist from the sauna.

Jill assumed their immediate destination would be the showers.  Maybe a naked Lady Clifton (Helen) would be waiting to scrub her clean.  It would be impractical for Bailey to perform the wet and soapy task.  She'd have to get undressed again.  Other potential cleaners would one or both of the maids, suitably naked.  Yet another possibility would be no shower for poor, overheated, bound, gagged, and very sweaty Jill... and apparently that was what was happening.

"Mrrrpf!" Jill muttered (and was ignored) as she was dragged (led) past the shower area, through the nearest Secret Door, and into the Bastillon Cottage maze of Secret Passages.  Their ultimate destination was Lady Clifton's Bedchamber... which was empty.  Her Helen-ness wasn't present.

By this time Jill's body had more-or-less air-dried, but she was still very much in need of a shower.  The naked, bound, gagged, and funky captive looked around.  The gigantic fourposter bed was neatly made, a sure sign the maids had already done their daily cleaning.  Also, resting on the carpet at the foot of the bed was a rather ominous black duffel-bag.

Bailey tugged on Jill's rope/cord leash, encouraging her to pad towards the bed.  She then forced (helped) the naked, bound, gagged, and in-need-of-a-shower archaeologist settle onto her stomach on the carpet.

Disgruntled and irritated by her egregious maltreatment, curious about what kinky atrocity was about to unfold, and apprehensive about her role in the aforementioned kinky atrocity... Jill watched as Bailey knelt at her side, unzipped the duffel—Ziiiiiiip!—and—Clink!  Clank!  Clatter!—began lifting out various cuffs, fetters, and... some sort of belt?  All were thick, wide, heavy, shiny, and polished!  Stainless steel?  Possibly... probably... and some had a few links of hefty chain attached.  Hand-forged and medieval?  No.  Everything was machined and modern.  Go figure.

"Mrrrf?" Jill politely inquired (or maybe whined).  Helen mentioned a 'Steel Initiation.'  This must be it!

"Hold still," Bailey ordered, then set to work.

"Mrrrmpfh!"  Jill did not hold still, but it didn't make any difference.

First, Bailey closed and locked a pair of steel fetters around Jill's ankles.  They were, indeed, heavy, and joined by six or seven hefty steel links.  Fortunately, all the fetters' surfaces and edges were smooth and well-rounded.  Jill kicked her hobbled feet, testing her new hobbling restraints, but the only result was a metallic chorus as the links clicked and clattered.

Next was the belt, and it was, indeed, a belt.  Leaving Jill's wrist-bonds intact, Bailey untied Jill's belly-rope and replaced it with the belt in question.  Like the fetters, it was heavy, thick, wide, and smooth, with all of its edges well-rounded.  Multiple D-rings were welded to its circumference, obviously ready to serve as attachment points.  Bailey closed and padlocked the belt around Jill's waist.  It was an excellent fit.

Jill suspected the Bastillon Cottage collection included a variety of belts and other restraints in various sizes, and the current set had been selected to match her precise measurements.   The alternative was Helen had commissioned a custom set specifically for her resident archaeologist. While that was possible, the Expansive Kinky Hardware Inventory Hypothesis seemed more likely.

A pair of "Elbow Cuffs" followed.  They had the same weight and heft as the fetters on her ankles and were separated by only three steel links.  Once locked in place they rolled her shoulders back and pulled her arms together behind her back; however, her elbows were not touching.  Her arms still had some freedom of motion, but not for long.

Bailey untied Jill's wrists and replaced the hemp rope/cord bondage with thick, wide, smooth, gleaming steel cuffs.  The cuffs were then padlocked to a pair of the belt's D-rings, securing her left and right wrists just behind their respective hips.  Jill's arms now had significantly less freedom of motion.  In fact, their range of motion was now best described as limited wiggle room.  She could roll her shoulders and twist at the waist, but only a little, and while kicking her fettered feet was possible, all of her struggles were equally pointless.

"Mrrrrrfh!" Jill protested (whined), then heaved a tragic sigh.

Unfortunately, while the duffel now appeared to be empty, Bailey wasn't finished.  Jill watched as her fellow blonde leaned towards the bed, reached under the bedskirt... and pulled out a shiny steel collar attached to a long steel chain—Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter!—which she then locked around her neck!

"Mrrrfh!" Jill whined (protested), and struggled in her steel bondage.  Everything fit her anatomy with precision.  She confirmed that all of her steel bonds' interior surfaces were, indeed, smooth, and every edge was, indeed, well-rounded.  The tips of her fluttering and groping fingers could brush against a few of the connecting and securing padlocks or shackles, but releasing any of them was laughably impossible.  All of her chains—the short connecting links and the much longer collar-to-bed chain—were the same sturdy gauge and could have restrained a rampaging gorilla or an enraged grizzly bear, much less a healthy, athletic, physically fit, and unarguably beautiful blonde archaeologist.  Jill knew she would never be able to free herself.

Meanwhile, Bailey had stood, turned, and strolled into the bedchamber's attached bathroom.  There was the sound of water running... it stopped... then the smiling blonde (who wasn't naked and locked in inescapable steel) returned with a glass of clear water in her hand.  She knelt on the carpet, set the glass to the side, hauled Jill's panel-gagged head and shoulders onto her lap, then unbuckled the gag and eased its glistening mouth-plug from the initiate's mouth.

Jill worked her jaw and licked her lips, Bailey held the glass to her lips, and she drank.

"What a dirty girl," Bailey purred as Jill drained the glass.  "So sweaty and in need of a bath."  Jill finished emptying the glass and once again Bailey set it aside.  "Not to worry."  Bailey started running her fingers through Jill's tousled hair.  "Eventually, you and Her Ladyship will share her soaking tub."  Her smile widened.  "It's an incredible experience, being naked, helplessly bound, and the water-jets massaging your body as Helen scrubs you clean and shampoos your hair... then holds you in her arms and the two of you bask in the churning bubbles."

Jill blinked her blue eyes.  "Uh... I'm sure, but... release me?  Please?"  Her chains tinkled and clattered as she weakly squirmed.  Bailey continued finger-combing her hair.  "Please?" JIll reiterated.

Still smiling, Bailey lifted the gag still loosely dangling around Jill's neck and thrust its plug back into the captive's mouth.

"Mrrrpfh!" Jill whined.

"Indeed," Bailey agreed as she tightened and secured the gag's strap and buckle.  "Her Ladyship has steel gags, branks, head-cages, and even very claustrophobic bondage-helmets in her collection, but she doesn't like using them for hours at a time.  Unsightly bruising may result.  Leather is much better for prolonged use."

Still in Bailey's lap, Jill resumed squirming and testing her bonds.  Clatter-clink-clack.

Bailey resumed running her fingers through Jill's now semi-tousled hair.

"Don't worry about Melvin," Bailey purred.  "Helen ordered the maids to take her on a surprise shopping trip, followed by a pub-crawl.  If they haven't already changed into their party clothes and departed, they will soon.  Your trusty and adorable young sidekick will not be coming to your rescue."

Jill pouted and mustered a scathing gagged-scowl she directed at her fellow blonde and teasing handler.  "Mrrrrrf!"  She'd intended the vocal rebuke to emerge from her gagged mouth as a withering condemnation, but even in her own ears it had sounded more like a plaintive whimper.  It was embarrassing.  Jill blushed.

Bailey smiled down at Jill's gorgeous gagged face and incredible blue eyes.  If she played her cards right, she just might be able to trick Helen into tying her to the bedroom's dressing chair, naked, bound, gagged, and facing the bed, thereby "forcing" her to watch Her Ladyship's initiation of her Resident Archaeologist, as punishment for being "cheeky."  It probably wouldn't be very difficult, and the only thing better than watching the Dowager Countess Cumberdale snog and diddle a beautiful damsel was being snogged and diddled by the Dowager Countess herself.

"Mrrrm," Jill whined.  It was heartbreaking, and sent a thrill rippling through Bailey's pussy and up her spine.  "Mrrrm," Jill whined again as Bailey gently squeezed her left breast.

"After a nice, looong soak in the bath, Helen will hand-feed you a nice dinner," Bailey purred.  "I'm sure Cook has already started pulling it together."

 Jill blinked and stared into her handler's smiling face, shivering as her fellow blonde repeatedly squeezed and released her boob.

"And afterwards..." Bailey continued, then nodded towards the bed and winked.

Jill continued blinking and shivering in her inescapable steel bondage.

"Right now Her Ladyship is toiling in her Writing Room, and will probably be at it for some time."  She shifted her attention to Jill's right breast.  "So... why don't you enjoy a nice nap?"  Her smile turned slightly sinister.  "You really have no other option.  Am I right?  You certainly won't being escaping from Helen's steel toys.  No one escapes from any of Helen's steel toys."

And with that, she gently eased Jill off her lap and fully onto the carpet.  "Have a pleasant afternoon," she wished the initiate, then gracefully climbed to her feet, picked up the empty glass and empty duffel-bag, placed them on a sideboard, then spun on her stylish heels (quickly enough to make her skirt and blond hair flare), strolled to the bedchamber door, and made her exit.  Thud.  That, of course, was the sound of the heavy and ornately carved door closing.

Jill was alone.  She heaved a gagged sigh.  Bailey was wasn't wrong about her not being able to escape.  Escape was impossible.  That was manifestly obvious.  However, napping wasn't Jill's only option.  Right off the bat she could think of two alternatives.

(1.)   She could mentally review her preparations for the upcoming dig.  Taking notes would be difficult, but probably not needed.  She'd already been over the preparations a million times.

(2.)  She could contemplate the things Bailey had warned her (promised her) that Helen was going to do to her in the coming hours.  That was probably better than reviewing the dig plan.

And then... it occurred to the naked and gagged prisoner-in-chains then she could combine the second option with a nap.  She could dream!  Maybe.

Jill sighed again, tugged on her wrist-cuffs and steel belt, weakly kicked her fettered feet, and closed her blue eyes.  'To sleep, perchance to dream,' she mentally quoted the Bard of Avon.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~~~~ Zzzzzzzz ~~~~~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

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Chapter 11

Epilogue

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