by Van ©2017
		Chapter 6

ONE MONTH AFTER "THE UNFORTUNATE INCIDENT"

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The worst part of the aftermath was the cleanup, specifically, getting rid of the olive oil on the vinyl floor of the hallway and the oil the cops and EMTs had tracked onto the carpets and mats in the other rooms in the course of the rescue and initial investigation.  None of the members of the Harper-Ricci family were resentful, of course.  What sort of knuckleheads would carp about the lack of fastidiousness on the part of the first-responders who'd rescued them from inescapable naked bondage?  That said, the oily tracks crisscrossing every room didn't make the cleanup any easier.  Mops, buckets, scrubbing on hands and knees, and steam cleaning was required.  It took two full days of all-hands effort, followed by the burning of two packages of incense to ameliorate the residual odors.

But before they could even start the cleanup, they had to get out the hospital.  The doctors insisted they remain overnight, even though their worst complaints were minor rope-burns, mild dehydration, and a few sore muscles (as well as throbbing lady-bits in the case of the overly vibrated Kate and Leah).

More time was lost with police interviews.  The lead detective on the case was a very attractive redhead named Laura Diamond.  She was professional, sympathetic, and thorough—as were her subordinates, a handsome guy named Billy and a beautiful (and tough) lady named Meredith—but it soon became clear there wasn't a lot for them to work with.  Leah, Kate, and the rest tried their best to remember every detail, including the exact words spoken by their kidnappers, but even they could tell they weren't providing any leads that Detective Diamond and her team could follow.

The more sensational of the media tried to exploit the situation, but aside from a grossly inaccurate and largely fictional article buried inside The Post, all that seemed to emerge from the initial flurry of press attention was free publicity.  Once the Harper-Ricci Day Spa & Tearoom reopened, membership in their various classes actually went up, more than making up for the lost business from having been closed for a few days.

And then, Detective Diamond returned in the company of a dynamic FBI agent—one Special Agent Jordan Shaw—and they had to go through the interview process all over again.  Federal interest in the case was heartening, but as far as they could tell, nothing more had been revealed.  They could only hope there were avenues of investigation they didn't know about.

Once Special Agent Shaw departed, things settled down into a new normal.  Daily classes continued, as did patronage at Kate's tearoom.  The "visit" from the hooded and catsuited kidnappers was discussed, but none of the Harper-Ricci family seemed particularly traumatized.  Leah arranged for Kate and "the girls" to get counseling from a victim's advocacy group, and Kate (and "the girls") insisted that she go as well.  The sessions were personal, of course, but the individual and group consensus was that they'd survived a traumatic and unfortunate experience and there was no need to dwell on it.

Days became weeks, which became a month.

One day, Leah summoned Daphne to her office.  The Bouncy Brit, as her fellow instructors sometimes called her, was dressed in a sweat-stained sleeveless leotard.  She'd just finished leading an advanced step class.  Her skin glistened with sweat and a few dangling strands of hair had escaped her ponytail to frame her shining face.  She noted that Kate was also present, and both of her bosses were dressed as usual, Kate in a stylish, functional dress and Leah in stretch-pants, sports bra, and a tank top.

"Take a seat," Leah suggested (ordered), indicating the empty visitor's chair in front of her desk.  Kate was in the other chair.

Daphne looked from Leah to Kate and back.  "Am I in trouble?" she inquired in a quiet voice.

Leah and Kate locked eyes and smiled.  "No, dear," Leah chuckled, "you're not in trouble.  We just got off the phone with Special Agent Shaw.  She said she asked her counterpart in Scotland Yard to do a little digging, and it turns out you used to teach 'Bondage Meditation' classes in London.  Is that true?"

Daphne swallowed before answering.  "Uh, yes."

"And you decided to leave that particular expertise off of your resume when you applied for work with us... because?"  Leah asked.  She was still smiling, as was Kate.

"Because I knew you didn't teach Bondage Meditation classes?" Daphne replied (or asked).

"That's your reason?" Leah purred.

Daphne sighed.  "Yes.  Also, I was afraid you'd think it was... kinky."

Leah and Kate exchanged another smile.  "We might have," Leah chuckled.  "I can understand your reticence.  However, Bondage Meditation is something of a minor trend in the industry.  Kate and I have discussed it, and we see no reason not to give it a go."

"On a limited basis, of course," Kate interjected.

Of course," Leah agreed.

Daphne looked from face to face, again.

"Go ahead," Leah smiled, "say it."

Daphne blushed before continuing.  "In spite of what happened to us?"

"What happened a month ago had nothing to do with Bondage Meditation," Leah said evenly.

Kate grinned.  "Other than rope."

Leah favored her partner (and lover) with an unamused stare, then smiled at Daphne.  "Bondage Meditation is different from sexual assault, am I right?"

"If you're doing it correctly," Daphne said in a near whisper.

The office erupted in giggles and guffaws, deflating the tension.

"All right then," Leah continued.  "Do you think you could prepare a proposal?  Staff training, class curricula, suggestions for advertising?"

"Uh, I think most places rely on word of mouth for advertising," Daphne said.

Kate nodded.  "Do you know any good books?" she asked.

"Books?" Leah inquired.

"How-to books," Kate clarified.

"I know a few," Daphne answered (admitted).  She was blushing again.

"None of this has to happen immediately," Leah said.

Daphne nodded.  "I'll start throwing together a proposal tonight."

"Wonderful!" Leah said with a warm smile.

"Anything else?" Daphne asked.

Leah shook her head.  "Go take a shower."

Daphne smiled at both bosses, then made her exit.

"Could she be more adorable?" Kate asked as soon as the office door closed.

"I don't see how," Leah chuckled.

"Well, I'm off," Kate said as she rose from her chair.

"Where are you going?" Leah inquired.

"Barnes & Noble," Kate said with a broad smile.  "I thought I might look for a few books on my own."

Leah blinked in surprise as her lover left her office, closing the door behind her.  What had happened to them—all of them—at the hands of the black-clad and hooded strangers had been horrible.  That said, it was undeniable that the staff's shared ordeal had stirred the proverbial pot.

THREE DAYS LATER
SCOUT & ERIN'S APARTMENT

---

Two slices of the giant-size Veggie Pizza remained.  Scout, Erin, and their guest Daphne had all eaten their fill.  Scout wrapped the remaining pizza in plastic and placed it in the fridge while Erin stacked the plates in the sink.  Daphne sipped the last of her bottle of Sam Adams Light and watched.  All three were dressed for comfort in exercise clothes: Scout in black, thigh-length spandex shorts and a brick-red sports bra; Erin in jade-green, calf-length stretch-pants and a dark-brown sports bra; and Daphne in baggy black shorts, royal-blue sports bra, and a heather-gray tank-top.  All three were barefoot with their hair pulled back in tight ponytails.

Scout and Erin finished their tasks, returned to the "living room" (the part of the one bedroom apartment that wasn't the kitchenette), and stood side-by-side, nervously smiling at their guest.

Daphne was sprawled on her hostess' futon.  She smiled back (but not nervously) as she took her final swig of beer and set the empty bottle aside.  "Last chance to chicken out," she purred.

Scout and Erin exchanged a pained look.

"Erin found a YouTube channel about British slang and manners and stuff," Scout said to Daphne, then turned her smile to her roommate.  "This is what they mean by a person being a 'tosser', don't you think?"

Erin smiled back.  "I believe so."  She turned her smile to Daphne.  "Are you being a tosser, Daph?"

Daphne smiled back.  "A 'berk', perhaps, but never a tosser."  She unzipped her nylon day-pack and pulled out a coil of conditioned hemp rope.  "Who wants to go first?"

Scout and Erin pointed at each other.  "She does," they said in unison.

Daphne giggled as she rose from the futon, rope in hand.

"I still don't know why we said yes to this," Erin sighed.

"Because you love Leah," Daphne answered with a dimpled grin, "like all of us, and we want to please her."

"Kate too," Scout sighed.

"Kate too," Daphne confirmed.  "Also," she continued, "you're curious, the pair of you."

"Bullpucky," Scout muttered, then looked around the apartment.  "I suppose we should move the furniture back to make more room."

"Nonsense," Daphne chuckled.  The coil of rope in her left hand, she hefted the day-pack onto her right shoulder.  "We'll use the bedroom."

"The bedroom?" Erin asked.  "You want to do 'Bondage Meditation' training in the bedroom?"

"On the bed," Daphne confirmed.  "You might as well be comfortable.  Come."  She turned and headed for her hostess' bedroom, still smiling her irritating but undeniably adorable dimpled smile.

It was a short trip.  The bed in question was neatly made and queen-size, more than adequate for a pair of twenty-something young ladies, especially if said young ladies happened to be in love.

"Well?" Daphne asked as she dropped the day-pack on the floor and began readying the coil of rope for use.

"Well what?" Erin responded.

"Who goes first?" Daphne chuckled, "and don't you dare point at each other again."

Erin and Scout froze in the act of doing just that.

"Well," Scout sighed, "somebody has to be brave and go first."  She sighed again, then indicated her roommate and lover with a graceful flip of the hand.  "Go ahead."

Erin favored her lover with a look of astonishment and betrayal.  "Oh, that's nice.  I go first?"

Daphne and Scout exchanged a knowing grin.  They both knew Erin was neither offended nor afraid.  "If you insist," Daphne giggled, stepped behind the "outraged" ginger, dropped a doubled loop of rope over her head and shoulders, positioning it under her pert, bra-covered breasts.  She pulled out the slack, pinning Erin's upper arms against her torso, then added a second paired loop.

"It was a question," Erin huffed as two additional pairs of ropes joined the first two, this time above her breasts.  She didn't struggle or impede Daphne's efforts in any way... other than with what Scout and Daphne considered to be an adorable pouting frown.

"Now, this is a box-tie," Daphne lectured as she added a shoulder-yoking hitch that tightened and stabilized the other ropes.  "It's good for beginners because it's comfortable."

Scout watched as Daphne folded Erin's arms behind her back and looped rope around her forearms.  "Comfortable?" Scout asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not so bad," Erin said, then her eyes popped wide.  "Oh!"  Daphne had passed the remaining rope up and under the shoulder-yoking hitch at the nape of her neck, back down to her forearms, and pulled, causing all the ropes to tighten up considerably.  The doubled bands now dimpled the pale, peachy-pink flesh of her arms, just a little.

Scout watched as Daphne cinched the rope around Erin's forearms, then methodically wrapped the rope around the vertical ropes linking her forearms to the nexus of ropes pinning her upper arms... tied a hitch... then continued above the nexus, wrapping rope around the vertical ropes that led to the nape of Erin's neck.  Doubled loop after compact, doubled loop tightened, and Daphne ran out at the level of Erin's shoulder blades, leaving just enough for her to tie a tight knot.  The knot in question was quite obviously well beyond the reach of Erin's fluttering fingers and groping hands, even though her wrists weren't tied.

Erin pouted in concentration as she squirmed and twisted and tested her bonds.  She quickly confirmed that the ropes pinning her upper-arms and locking her elbows at ninety degrees were quite adequate to keep her from reaching, much less untying, the terminal knot.  And as for wiggling, squirming, and somehow loosening any other part of Daphne's box-tie?  Impossible.

Scout watched her lover twist and turn and fight her bonds.  "Wow," she whispered under her breath.  This was different from what had happened to them at the hands of the kidnappers back at work.  Erin continued struggling.  This was very different.  And then, she noticed Daphne had opened her day-pack, pulled out a second coil of rope, and was readying it for use.

"You're gonna tie her up some more?" Scout asked.

Daphne shook her head as she stepped behind Scout.  "No, I'm gonna tie you up."

"Me?" Scout blurted as the first doubled loop passed over her head and shoulders and tightened around her arms and torso, just below her breasts.

"You just watched the proper manner for tying a box-tie," Daphne explained, smiling her dimpled smile as she worked.  "Now it's Erin's turn."

"It's only fair," Erin observed with a dimpled grin.

Scout turned her head and glowered at her lover.  Erin's face was flushed, just a little, and Scout felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  "At least watch what she's doing," she said to Erin, "rather than staring at me."

Erin twisted in her bonds and the flush became an unmistakable blush.  "I am watching," she huffed.

It didn't take long for Daphne to bind Scout in a box-tie identical to Erin's.  "Brilliant!" Daphne said with a smile, then patted the surface of the bed.  "Down you go, the pair of you."

Scout and Erin exchanged a commiserating look, sighed, and flopped down onto their bed with all the grace they could muster (which wasn't much).  After a little squirming they were on their stomachs and side-by-side, facing the foot of the bed and their Bondage Meditation instructor.

Daphne continued smiling her adorable (and highly irritating) dimpled smile and readied a third coil of rope.  "Decisions, decisions," she sighed.  "Well... I started with the ginger, so, I might as well be consistent."  She sat on the bed, crossed Erin's ankles, and lashed them together.  She tied a retaining hitch to maintain the tension, stretched the very long free ends up and through the main nexus of Erin's box-tie, back down and through her crossed ankles, back up and through the ropes at the nape of her neck, then pulled out the slack.

"Hey!" Erin complained, then again—"Hey!"—when Daphne pulled out even more slack, enough to pull her shoulders back, arch her back, and leave her crossed ankles more or less directly above her buttocks.

"This is called a hogtie," Daphne lectured.  "I don't recommend making it quite this stringent, except when the subject is on a soft surface, as now."  She pulled out a fourth and final coil of rope, and proceeded to hogtie Scout.  When she tied the final knot, once again the roommate's bonds were identical.  She then moved to the foot of the bed, taking the day-pack with her, and knelt on the carpet.

Erin and Scout were testing their enhanced bondage, squirming, twisting, and tugging on their ropes.  Resistance was futile.

They paused in their pointless efforts to escape to watch as Daphne delved into the front pocket of her pack and produced a roll of Elastoplast medical tape and a pair of bandage scissors.  They continued watching as Daphne deftly cut a six or seven-inch strip from the roll.

"W-what's that for?" Erin demanded nervously.

"I'll explain in a moment," Daphne answered, then reached out with the strip stretched between her two hands and pressed it home, covering Erin's lips and sealing her mouth.  She then smoothed the tape with her fingers, making sure the adhesive had a good grip on the ginger's smooth skin.

"You're enjoying yourself way too much," Scout complained as she watched Daphne prepare a second strip of Elastoplast.

"I'd quite forgotten how much fun this sort of thing could be," Daphne admitted as she gave Scout a tape-gag identical to Erin's.  "There," she said, smiling brightly, then sat back on her heels and smiled at her students.

Scout and Erin turned their heads and examined each others gags.  The off-white, milky plastic strips covered most of their lower faces, and the shapes of their pouting mouths stood out in three-dimensional relief.  They heaved simultaneous sighs, then turned back to glower at their instructor.

Dimpled smile firmly in place, Daphne gazed back.  "Now," she began, "because you two will be using each other to practice the various techniques you'll need to master, there's something important for you to resolve."  She settled back into a half-lotus.  "It's an open secret that you two are a couple, even though you are discrete about it in the workplace, for which the rest of us are all very grateful."  Her smile became a mischievous, dimpled smirk.  "No one appreciates having to endure a pair of lovebirds making goo-goo eyes at each other all day."

Scout and Erin favored Daphne with the same expression, and it wasn't goo-goo eyes.

"Now," Daphne continued, "sorting out ones various feelings while learning the ins and outs of Bondage Meditation is difficult enough, and amorous relationships make it even more of a challenge.  Therefore, before we go any further, you lot need to sort something out: who's the top, and who's the bottom.  Only then will you have the proper emotional framework that will allow serious learning to begin."

Both bound students blinked in surprise and voiced identical reactions.  "Mrrrf?"

"Yes," Daphne nodded.  "Exactly."

Clearly, Erin and Scout were skeptical and/or dubious—and clearly, Daphne was choosing to ignore their opinion.

Erin's green eyes were still wide but Scout had resumed staring the proverbial daggers.

"You both know you can't possibly untie yourselves," Daphne, "by which I mean, of course, that each of you know you are unable to untie your own bonds; however, you'll find that with serious effort each of you can untie the other.  Not simultaneously, of course, so..."  She climbed to her feet and the students lifted their chins from the bed so they could continue staring and/or glaring at their teacher.  "That's how we'll establish who's dominant and who's submissive."

"Mrrrk?"  It was another simultaneous outburst from the lovebirds.

"Whichever one of you succeeds in untying the other," Daphne continued, "will be the designated bottom, and conversely, whoever is untied will be the designated top.  As for the tape, if I were to allow you to talk it over, it would almost certainly take forever.  And I have no doubt whatsoever that at some point you'd start snogging, adding even further delay.  This way we can cut to the chase." 

Daphne hefted the virtually empty pack onto one shoulder, then turned and headed for the bedroom door.  She paused in the threshold to smile at the captives on the bed.  "I'm going to do the dishes, then watch a little TV, with your permission, of course.  Once you've sorted things out we can discuss future lessons and the rest of the curriculum."

The lovers watched the door close... then turned their heads to gaze at each other.  A civilized (or hysterical) discussion of what was happening was impossible, but they could tell (or were sure) that they were both thinking the exact same thing:  Top?  Bottom?  Really?

Hand washing the plates and forks they'd used for dinner took no time at all, as did placing the empty beer bottles in the recycling bin and the greasy pizza box in the trash.  Daphne then located the remote control, flopped down on the futon, and thumbed on her hostess' TV.  She found a number of recent sitcom episodes waiting in the DVR queue and decided to watch the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory.

The episode was good, as usual, but Daphne was finding it difficult to concentrate on the plot.  Her thoughts kept turning to whatever was happening in the bedroom... the other side of the closed door... on the bed.

Like any proponent of Bondage Meditation, Daphne would tell anybody who asked that the practice was all about meditation and was not a thinly veiled excuse to play kinky games.  The very idea!  That said, the thought of Erin and Scout hogtied, tape-gagged, and writhing on their bed was... entertaining (meaning hot).  It was Daphne's dirty little secret that she found the most challenging aspect of Bondage Meditation to be pretending that bondage wasn't the point of the exercise.

What had happened to Daphne and her friends during "The Incident" had been different.  The non-consensual aspect—bondage at the hands of total strangers with unknown intentions—had trumped Daphne's fondness for binding and being bound.  However, while it was happening (on a detached level and viewing what was done to them from afar), she'd taken notes.  There was no question but that their captors were good... on a technical level.  Up close and personal, it hadn't been fun.  Seriously.  It was horrible.  Even after their kidnappers reassured their victims that they wouldn't come to any harm, it had been horrible.  Not fun.  No how.  No way.

The episode ended, Daphne turned off the TV, snuggled against the throw pillows on the futon, and closed her eyes.  Another half hour, she decided, then I'll check on the lovebirds.

Daphne resolved to ignore the warm feelings tingling her innermost person (she was horny) and was largely successful.  She also resolved not to doze off... and failed miserably.

. . . z z z z z z z z z . . .

Suddenly, Daphne snapped awake!  She was under attack!  A pair of giggling maniacs were holding her down and tying her up!

The attackers were Scout and Erin, of course, and despite Daphne's vigorous resistance, the tide of victory in the titanic but uneven battle had already turned.  Rope was already tightened and cinched, and knots had already been tied.  Daphne's wrists were bound together behind her back, and the same thing was happening to her ankles.

"Stop it, you mingy pillocks!" Daphne huffed.

"Quiet," Scout growled, "or my beautiful assistant will gag you.  'Mingy pillocks'," she added, turning to Erin.  "Do you think we should look that up?"

"Maybe later," Erin giggled, "and I thought you were my beautiful assistant."  She'd finished using the first half a coil of rope to bind Daphne's ankles together and was using the second half to bind her knees.

Daphne continued struggling, as best she could, but couldn't help but smile.  "So, Scout, you're on top?  I thought that's how things would shake out."

"Scout is not on top," Erin huffed as she cinched the knee ropes and tied the final knot.  (She also blushed.)

"Well then, spill the beans!" Daphne demanded.  "Who untied whom first?"

"None of your damn business," Scout huffed.

"It's personal," Erin added primly.

"Exactly," Scout agreed, then sat in the middle of the futon and with, Erin's help, heaved Daphne up and positioned her between her legs, then folded her legs around Daphne's waist.  Then, again with Erin's assistance, proceeded to bind Daphne's upper-arms against her body and yoke her shoulders with a fresh coil of rope.  Obviously, she was crafting the third box-tie of the evening.  Once the basic harness was complete, they flipped Daphne onto her stomach, untied her wrists, and in the proscribed manner folded her arms behind her back and tied her forearms together, completing the box-tie.

There was more rope available, so the roommates used it to haphazardly cinch and tighten Daphne's box-tie.  The result was still technically a box-tie and was at least marginally symmetrical, but it had more in common with a black widow spider's web than accepted Japanese bondage techniques.

"This is disgraceful," Daphne muttered, testing her haphazard but quite inescapable bonds.  "Very poor technique."

"Chalk it up to poor teaching," Erin purred, smiling her version of the dimpled smile.

The students repositioned themselves and their teacher.  Now, Scout was sitting on the left side of the futon, Daphne was lying full length on her back with her head and shoulders in Scout's lap, and Erin was standing on the right.  The grinning ginger placed Daphne's bound ankles atop the right arm of the futon, and began lashing them in place.

By the time Daphne realized what Erin was doing it was too late.  She tried kicking and squirming, but the first looping bands of rope were already in place.  She stopped struggling and stared daggers at the villainous ginger as Erin added a pair of cinches, tightening the lashings, then tied a redundant knot.

"Let me go," Daphne huffed.  "I'm your teacher.  This is rank insubordination and disrespect."

"Sorry, Miss," Erin said, dropping a graceful curtsy.

"Let you go?" Scout purred, smiling down at Daphne's glowering face.  "I don't think so."

Erin nodded in agreement.  "We both agreed that you've grossly exceeded your authority by throwing our personal lives into the mix," she said gravely, then padded into the kitchen and began rummaging through various drawers.

Daphne watched with great interest, but from her position on the futon she couldn't see much of what Erin was doing.  She lifted her gaze to Scout and raised an eyebrow in question.  An enigmatic, dimpled smile was her only answer.

Erin closed the final drawer, then padded back to her former position.  She knelt and arranged whatever she'd gathered on the floor, then smiled, lifted an eight-inch cable-tie, and vripped it closed around Daphne's big toes!

"No!" Daphne whined.  Once again she'd been slow to react, but she knew she couldn't have prevented her toes from being bound together in any case, not with her ankles already lashed together and to the futon's armrest.

"Now," Erin purred, smiling an unmistakably sinister, dimpled smile.  She held up a series of objects, one-by-one, naming each as it appeared.

"Olive fork."  Erin was holding a short, thin fork with three long, thin tines.

"Nut pick."  This time it was a steel instrument with a sharp, curved tip, designed for teasing recalcitrant nutmeats from cracked shells.

"Bottle brush."  Erin was twirling a small brush with a cylindrical array of bristles and a rounded tip.

"Kitchen toothbrush."  Now she was holding an old toothbrush.  "We use it to scrub hard to reach places," she explained.

"And finally... chopsticks."  She clacked together a pair of long, thin, tapered bamboo rods suitable for cooking or eating.

"Sorry we don't have any feathers," Scout added.  She was also smiling.

Daphne's captors' intentions were manifestly clear.  "No!" the helpless Brit reiterated.  "This is totally uncalled for... and unfair... and... I'm gonna tell Leah and Kate!"

Erin sighed, still clacking the chopsticks.  "Isn't she cute when she's all helpless and scared and knows she's gonna be tortured?"

"Very cute," Scout agreed.

"I'll tell," Daphne pouted.

"If you do," Scout said, "we'll tell Leah and Kate you used their clever and wonderful new Bondage Meditation program to further your own kinky agenda by inserting yourself into our sex lives... so to speak"

"What do you think would happen then?" Erin giggled.  She locked eyes with her grinning lover.  "I'm thinking Leah and Kate would tie her up and tickle her feet 'til she squeals."

Scout nodded.  "Probably.  And then—"  She shifted her smiling gaze to Daphne's anxious face.  "—they'd tickle you some more."

"Rubbish," Daphne huffed, squirming in her bonds and flexing her oh so very, very vulnerable feet.  "They might give me a stern talking to, but—eeeeeh!"

Erin had returned the chopsticks to the floor and was now dragging the nails of her index fingers up and down the full length of Daphne's feet.

"I'll scream!" Daphne warned.  "Mrrrpfh!"

Scout had her right hand tightly clamped over Daphne's mouth.  She smiled at Erin and the ginger smiled back and tossed her a neatly folded tea towel.  Scout caught it with her left hand, then returned to smiling down at Daphne's horrified, hand-gagged face.

"It would be very rude of you to disturb our neighbors," Scout purred, "especially at this hour."  If you don't want this thing crammed in your mouth, you'll keep the volume down, you won't scream, and you'll keep all of your reactions to lady-like giggles and guffaws.  Understand?"

Daphne's wide, brown eyed gaze darted from Scout's smiling face, to the folded tea towel, then back to Scout.  Seconds passed... then she nodded, as best she could, and Scout withdrew her hand-gag.  "I'll try," Daphne said gravely.

"Such a brave little English rose," Erin sighed, then dragged her nails up and down Daphne's feet, again.

"Eeeeeeeee!" Daphne whined, biting her lower lip.

Scout shook out the tea towel and rolled it lengthwise into a narrow cylinder.  "Do you want to bite on this?" she offered.

"M-maybe I better," Daphne said in a near whisper, then opened her mouth and took the rolled towel between her teeth.

Scout focused her smile on Erin.  "Okay, Bottom, you may begin."

"I told you," Erin huffed as she reached down and selected one of her tools, "I'm not your bottom and you're not my top."  She smiled at Daphne, then set to work.

"Mrrrrrrr!"  Daphne clenched her eyes tightly closed, pointed her toe-bound feet, and squealed through the towel.  She couldn't tell which of her tools Erin was using—but whatever was stroking the soles of her feet—it TICKLED!!