by Van ©2017
		Epilogue

It took a few weeks, but Kelly eventually came to realize the truly nefarious nature of her new job as Castle York's Junior Maid.  It was all an insidious plot!  Alice and Wendy York might be super-nice, super-rich, and super-hot, but they were conspiring to make all of Kelly's erotic fantasies come true and improve her life in general!

First of all... bondage.

Kelly's self-bondage "hobby" had blossomed (exploded) into full-blown bondage-bondage.  And while Kelly was usually on the receiving end of the rope and leather shenanigans, she was becoming increasingly familiar with both sides of the equation.  That said, Kelly was not a "toppy-bottom" or a "submissive-dom".  It was... complicated.

Second of all... playmates.

Bess had always played an important (albeit sporadic) role in the growth of Kelly's hobby; but now she had both York sisters, Emily, Lin, and Joan to contend with.  Also, there were other as yet unknown players in the form of rich, sexy, wealthy, and (allegedly) super-nice women waiting in the wings to play with Kelly and/or let her play with them!  Kelly didn't stand a chance!

Third of all... salary, job security, retirement planning, etc.

Gone were the days of not being able to save any significant amount of money or make any long term plans.  Financial stability!  What an outrage!

Fourth of all... college?

The York sisters candidly agreed that there wasn't enough work at York castle to justify the employment of two maids, so they'd decree that both Kelly and Bess would take college classes and finish their bachelor degrees.  They were in no hurry to make it happen, but it was made clear that reasonable progress was expected.  And even before the maids sorted out the details and formulated formal academic plans, the Yorks required them to start reading books!  They had a list!  Also, the maids would be required to participate in "salons" with the Yorks, discussions of the hundred or so Great Works as they finished reading them.  It was just a fancy-schmancy version of book reports—with tea!  Just imagine!  Making Kelly and her BFF do what they'd always intended to do anyway, given half a chance, but without causing them to go into debt from student loans?  Such chutzpah!

And as for life at Castle York...

Naked Yoga was now a thrice weekly occurrence, at a minimum, and attendance was mandatory for both maids.  Wendy almost always led the sessions, sometimes Emily participated, and Lin was a semi-frequent guest.  Post-yoga saunas were the norm, but post-sauna fun-with-rope only happened now and then, maybe once or twice a week.  Sometimes Kelly was the bindee and sometimes the junior maid was just an observer.

As for Mistress Alice, Emily explained (gossiped) that their senior employer regularly participated in tai chi classes during the day.  She was a member of a fancy, expensive, spa/health club high in a Manhattan tower.  Whether there were regular fun-with-rope afterparties was an unknown.

And as it turned out, the naked variant of Mistress Alice's maid-expedited "self"-bondage sessions were exceedingly rare occurrences.  Kelly had been tasked with "tucking Mistress Alice into her bed" several times since permanently joining the household staff.  In fact, it happened at least once a week.  But thus far she hadn't been called upon to silence Mistress with her designer muzzle-gag or to massage her naked body (meaning Mistress' naked body) with moisturizing lotion.  Rats!

As for the other Mistress, if Wendy routinely did anything "fun" at night, she was very discrete, as was whoever might be helping her.  And the Great Maid Raid that happened soon after Bess returned from vacation and Kelly became a permanent hire?  That was a one-off thing.  Bess and Emily both agreed that they couldn't use hazing Kelly as an excuse to erotically torture the younger York sister on a regular basis.  Maybe it would be a viable excuse when it came time to celebrate Kelly's first employment anniversary, but that was it.  This was another source of annoyance for the new maid.

And adding insult to injury, Kelly found that she was now irrevocably tarred with the nickname "Silly Goose".  It turned out Bess was already branded "Cheeky Monkey" (which Kelly agreed was both descriptive and entirely appropriate), but... Silly Goose?  Kelly realized she should have put her foot down earlier.  Now it was too late.

As for Emily, a nickname for Cook remained a work in progress.  "Perky Puss"?  Lame.  "Giggle Gal"?  Even more lame.  Kelly and Bess agreed to keep trying.  Emily required a humiliating nickname and the maids agreed that they wouldn't rest until the Bubbly Brit had one.  There was something right on the tip of Kelly's tongue, but she just couldn't bring it into focus.

And speaking of erotic fantasies coming true...

It was another party, this time at Lin's gallery/studio.  The entire York household was in attendance, as were something like two dozen obviously super-rich and super-hot women.  Kelly was wearing her trusty LBD and strap-on high heeled pumps, and everyone else was "dressed to the nines" in similar outfits.  She assumed the other partygoers were members of the York sisters' mysterious circle of bondage hobbyist friends.  They were all walking around oogling Lin's sculptures, sipping champagne, and not freaking out, so... ya think?

There was also the hired help.  Lin's party was catered.  Servers circulated with trays laden with of flutes of bubbly and the usual canapés and hors d'oeuvres, including crab-puffs and those yummy little pig-in-a-blanket thingies.  All were female and dressed in uniforms of black high-heels, pantyhose, short skirts, and fancy white shirts with wing collars and black bow ties.

The occasion was the debut of Lin's latest sculpture.  It had pride of place in the center of the largest gallery space suspended from the ceiling under a bank of spotlights.  A tasteful, discrete card on a small stand bore the name: "Dreamcatcher."

Alice, Wendy, Emily, Bess, and Kelly all agreed that the name was entirely appropriate and Lin had outdone herself.  They sipped champagne and gazed at the sculpture.

There were three concentric circles, all aligned in the same vertical plane.

The outermost circle was about fifteen feet in diameter and comprised of hundreds of stripped, sanded, and stained wooden branches neatly and tightly bound together with thin steel wire.  It was something like a wreath of branching twigs, only on a larger scale.  The innermost circle was six inches in diameter, and completely bound in steel wire, a hundred or more strands of which radiated outward.  The middle ring was... complicated.

Imagine a woman elaborately bound with thin rope—very elaborately bound.  Her entire body was crisscrossed by tight strands, including her fingers, toes, her long, braided hair, and everything else, including her face.  Vertical, horizontal, and diagonal ropes embraced and defined her every curve.  Her back was arched, knees bent, feet pointing, arms raised above and behind her head, and her fingers and hands reaching back for her toes.  In short, her pose prescribed a circle as closely as was possible within the limits of human anatomy, and it wasn't by choice.  The ropes bound her in a circle.  Also, hundreds of radial wires linked her to the outer and inner rings, rendering any deviation from the circular pose an impossibility.

Kelly and the others had no difficulty whatsoever imagining the woman's predicament, even though, as with Lin's other sculptures, the woman herself was absent.  Her form-defining bonds were very much present, in the form of braided steel wire, as were the countless taut, thin wires linking the three circular forms, but there was nothing but empty air inside the bonds.

Viewed from a perpendicular perspective, the hundreds of wires linking the three rings formed a perfect starburst, straight lines radiating outward from a common center.  However, with each step to the left or right, chaos crept into the composition.  Many of the wires linking the inner and outer circles to the absent woman's bonds spanned the shortest possible distance, so no matter the perspective of the viewer they remained in the common plane.  Most of the wires, however, were linked to positions somewhere around the woman's curves.  And in the case of the outer circle, some of the wires were linked to bends or side branches that were well off the common plane.

Viewed from the perpendicular—a perfect radial star.  Viewed from other angles—growing chaos.

"Cool," Bess remarked as she sipped champagne.

"The poor model," Emily sighed, then popped a crab-puff into her mouth.

Kelly turned to Mistress Alice.  "You oughta buy it and hang it in the middle of the parlor."

"Which parlor?" Bess asked.

"The one next to the formal dining room," Kelly clarified.

"Oh," Bess nodded, "the big parlor."  She smiled at Alice.  "Good idea."

"I don't think so," Alice purred, a tolerant smile curling her lips.

"It would clash with the family portraits on the north wall," Wendy added.  Her smile was brighter.

"Poor thing," Emily whispered, shaking her head and still empathizing with the model.

Actually, they were all empathizing with the absent model.  It was impossible not to.  It had to have taken Lin a very long time to rig the contorted bondage before them, even if she cheated by not rigging all the suspending wires.

Just then, a pattering of applause began on the far side of the room and built in intensity.  Lin had appeared, and at her side was the guest of honor.  As far as Kelly was concerned, Lin was the guest of honor—she was the artist, after all—but Lin was also the hostess, and their invitations had singled out the model of her latest work for the distinction.

Lin was wearing a long, black, very slinky, sleeveless gown with spaghetti-straps and a narrow waist.  In other words, Lin was showing a lot of skin—arms, shoulders, boobs, and side-boobs.  Her long, straight, raven hair was loose about her shoulders and mostly flowed down her mostly bare back.  Kelly was impressed and, as was the case whenever she laid eyes on Lin, a little aroused.

The guest of honor and model at Lin's side was dressed in leather... a lot of leather... expensive black leather with a slightly pebbled finish.  Specifically:

• Thigh-boots with ridiculously high heels that compelled the wearer to stand and walk on tiptoe.  They laced up the front and included straps that buckled around her ankles, above knees, and mid thighs.
• A body-suit that was more-or-less a very French-cut, strapless, one piece swimsuit—without breast coverage.
• A corset—a genuine, lace-up-the-back, wasp-waist enforcing, had to be uncomfortable, corset.
• Opera gloves that stretched nearly to the wearer's armpits.

And then there was the bondage gear, all in the same black leather (with chrome-steel hardware):

• Progressively shorter steel chains that linked the thigh-boots' ankle, knee, and thigh straps, severely restricting the wearer's steps (as if being up on pointe wasn't restriction enough).
• A single-sleeve armbinder that bound the wearer's hands, wrists and elbows together behind her back.
• A body-harness of a dozen or more very thin straps that pinned the armbinder against the back of the corset and traveled between her legs, cleaving her labia (that had probably already achieved camel-toe status thanks to the tight body-suit).
• A posture collar that severely restricted the wearer's ability to move her head.  It included a chin-supporting shelf and attachment points for the upper straps of the body-harness.
• A panel-gag/head-harness that silenced the wearer and caged her head.

And who was this leather-bound wearer—this guest of honor?  None other than—Joan Morgan!

Just enough of Joan's features were visible for her friends to recognize her.  Plus, her identity as the model of Lin's latest masterpiece was already known to the partygoers.  It had been divulged in the invitations.  Joan's dark brown hair trailed down her back in a single tight braid secured at the end by a thin black ribbon.

Oh-by-the-way, thanks to the cutouts in the bodysuit, Joan's boobs were on open display, and in Kelly's opinion, they were very nice boobs.  Joan's skin was fair, even pale in contrast to the gleaming black leather.  Also, her nipples were just the right size... and somewhat erect.  Kelly still felt sympathy/empathy for what Joan had endured as Lin's model (being a past model herself), but she strongly suspected that at some level, in some way, Joan was enjoying all the attention.

Kelly focused on Lin, who was chatting with a group of other guests, then sipped her champagne.  Nobody threw me a party when my sculpture was finished, she thought.  The sculpture in question, the rope-defined shape of Kelly bound to a steel post, was off to the side, one of several sculptures in the room.

Bess leaned close and whispered in Kelly's right ear.  "Don't be jealous, goofball.  Joan's 'celebrity' is the tail end of Lin's last performance piece, the final part of the bet she made with Joan."

"I'm not jealous," Kelly huffed.

"Nobody knows who any of the models are for any of Lin's sculptures," Emily whispered in Kelly's left ear.  Apparently, she had overheard Bess' whispers.  "That was Lin's promise, anyway."

Kelly sipped her champagne, again, then frowned.  "Wait, wait, wait.  'Promise?'"  She nodded towards the other sculptures.  "Which one are you?" she demanded.

Emily giggled, rather nervously.  She also blushed, rather prettily.  "Silly Goose.  Mind your own business."

Kelly smiled.  Score one for Silly Goose.  She focused her smile on her BFF.  "How 'bout you, Cheeky Monkey?"  She indicated the other sculptures with a graceful flip of the wrist.  "Which one?"

Bess smiled and pointed at the post-bondage sculpture, Kelly's sculpture.  "See that one?  The one with the post?  That's not it."

Kelly rolled her eyes but otherwise didn't answer.  She had other concerns.  Their hostess and the guest of honor were drawing near.

Lin exchanged greeting kisses with Alice, Wendy, Emily, Bess, and finally, Kelly.  "I hope you're all enjoying yourselves," she said with a dimpled smile.

Joan said nothing, of course.  Her pretty blue eyes were twinkling (arguably), but whether they were the only visible part of some a smile, an expression of profound humiliation, or an indication of some other emotion wasn't clear... not to Kelly, anyway.

Bess beamed at Lin.  "Kelly's disappointed you didn't throw her a party when you finished her sculpture," the alleged BFF purred.

The others laughed (not counting Joan), and Kelly blushed.  "Traitor!" she growled at Bess.

"Silly Goose," Lin chuckled, then kissed Kelly's flushed cheek.  "I'll throw you a party after you pose for your second sculpture."

Kelly slurped the last of her champagne, then grabbed a fresh flute from a passing server.  "Thanks," she whispered to the blonde carrying the tray.  Kelly was always polite to fellow food handlers.  The blonde smiled back, then was gone.  Kelly turned back to Lin, Joan, and the smiling, watching Alice, Wendy, Emily, and Bess.  "Uh... I'll hold you to that," she said to Lin, "also..."  Her eyes widened.  "Wait, wait, wait!  Who said anything about a second sculpture?"

"Mistress Lin," Bess responded, then smiled and batted her big blue eyes at Lin.  "Don't worry.  If she tries to chicken out, Emily and I will tie her up and deliver her to your studio."  She focused on Alice.  "Can we borrow one of the smaller trunks or larger suitcases from down in the basement?"

"Of course, Cheeky Monkey," Alice chuckled.  "You'll have to clean it up and oil the leather first, of course."

"Thank you, Mistress," Bess purred.  "As Senior Maid... I'll delegate the task."

Before Kelly could reply (or smack her BFF in her smug face), Lin cleared her throat.  "Ahem, I hope you all retained your invitations, as requested."

They all nodded and sipped champagne (except for Joan).

"The number printed at the bottom is your entry in the drawing," Lin continued, "but don't worry if you have misplaced your invitation.  I have a list of which number corresponds to which guest."

"Drawing?" Kelly inquired.

"The winner gets to spend the night," Lin explained, then nodded at Joan.  "And she'll be the bedwarmer."

"Nice," Bess chuckled.

Kelly focused on the harness strap cleaving Joan's body-suit-clad pussy.  "How will they—the winner and the bedwarmer—do anything, uh, fun?  There's all that leather in the way?"

"Not my problem," Lin chuckled.  "Enjoy yourselves," she added, then led Joan towards the next group of guests.

"I think Joan has lovely breasts," Emily said brightly.  "Don't you agree?"

"Lovely," Alice chuckled, and the others nodded.

Neither Kelly, Bess, Emily, nor the York sisters won Lin's drawing, but they did have a good time at the party.

The woman who did win the drawing was unknown, to Kelly, anyway.  She was forty-something with fair, clear skin, dark hair with a prominent widow's peak, pale blue eyes, full cheeks, and a dimpled chin.  She was very beautiful.  Her name was announced when she won, but for Kelly it was lost in the applause.

"So," Bess remarked to Kelly as the winner hugged and kissed Lin, then led her precariously stutter-stepping prize towards the residential area.  "Disappointed you're gonna miss out in a night of bed-bondage with Joan as your play-toy?"

"No," Kelly huffed, then emptied her latest flute.

That evening, Kelly drank entirely too much champagne.  She didn't actually get drunk, but became as bubbly as Emily without champagne.

And speaking of bed-bondage...

As soon as her new bedroom was ready (and she was alone), Junior Maid Kelly had knelt next to her new bed and inspected the underside.  She noted two things: (1) it was identical to the bed in Bess' bedroom with the same four-poster design and rock solid construction, and more importantly; (2) the same steel clamps screwed into the undersides of the side-rails, and in the same positions.  Also, the chest of drawers corresponding to the chest of drawers in Bess' bedroom had the same locked drawer!

The conclusion was inescapable.  The beds of both maids were equipped to "tuck them into bed" in a still unknown but probably identical manner!

Kelly had had weeks to ferret out the details of the hypothetical tucking in question (at least with respect to Bess' bed), but had made absolutely no progress.  Why?  She'd been chicken, afraid that if she asked the obvious question—"What are the clamps under Bess' bed for?"—she'd get a practical answer by being strapped to said bed!  Ask one of the York sisters?  No way.  Ask Emily?  It had quickly become clear that Emily was just as much a player as their bosses, so...  No.

Chicken?  Yes.  But Kelly was a curious chicken, and now that Temporary Maid Kelly was Junior Maid Kelly, she had an additional suspect to question.

A few days after the party at Lin's place Kelly finally worked up the courage to act.  The York household was settling in for the night.  Alice was in bed (but not tucked into bed), Wendy had also retired, Emily was down in the kitchen, finishing up her meal preparations for the next day, but both maids had been dismissed for the evening.

Kelly changed into a babydoll nightie (with matching panties) and completed her evening toilette, but rather than returning to her room and climbing into bed, she crept to Bess' bedroom, quietly opened the door, and slipped inside.

Bess was already in bed, comfortably reclined against a pile of pillows and reading a volume from the York sisters' Great Books Required Reading List.  "By all means, barge right on in," she chuckled, favoring her BFF with a dubious smile.  "It's not like I have an expectation of privacy or anything."  She marked her place and placed the book on her nightstand.  Oh-by-the-way, she was wearing her usual sleeping costume: nothing.

"Uh, I got a question," Kelly explained.

"Obviously," Bess said with a dimpled grin.  "Ask away."

"Tell me about the clamps." Kelly said.

"The clamps?"

"The clamps under the bed," Kelly clarified.

"Under the bed?"

Kelly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her breasts.  "Don't be dense.  The tuck-Mistress-into-bed clamps, only you've got them too, and more of them."

Bess' smile turned more coy (her dimples deepened, anyway).  "Oh, those clamps."  She climbed from the bed and padded towards the bedroom door.  "Gotta take a leak," she explained as she passed Kelly.  "Wait here."  She made her exit, closing the door behind her.

Kelly stared at the back of the closed door.  "Wait here," she muttered under her breath.  "Yeah.  Sure."

Seconds passed... then the bedroom door flew open.  Bess had returned, but with her came Emily!  Cook was still wearing her daytime uniform of jeans and a striped cotton top.

"Good evening!" Emily said with a bright smile.  She headed for the nightstand, planting a light kiss on Kelly's cheek as she passed.

Kelly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and watched Emily reach into her pocket, pull out a set of keys, and unlock the bottom drawer.  The smiling cook then opened the drawer, reached inside, pulled something out, and tossed it to Bess.  Whatever it was, it flashed like chromed steel, and then—"Hey!  Bess!  Stop!"—it became crystal clear exactly what the thing was: handcuffs!

Emily had tossed Bess a pair of hinged handcuffs, and before Kelly realized what was happening and could mount a defense, Bess had cuffed her wrists together behind her back!

"You're a rat!" Kelly huffed, tugging on the cuffs, "a Norway rat, a sewer rat, a plague rat!"  She shifted her glare to Emily.  "You too, you, you... rat!"

"Silly Goose!" Emily giggled as she returned to the drawer, extracted an impressive, tinkling mass of brown leather straps and padded cuffs, lots of cuffs, and tossed it onto the bed.

Meanwhile, Bess had padded to her bedroom door, turned the deadbolt lock, then padded back to Emily's side.  "Who put this stuff away last time?  It's all tangled."

"That would be you, Cheeky Monkey," Emily giggled.

Bess smiled sheepishly.  "Oh, right.  It was me."

Kelly watched as Cook and the Senior Maid sorted things out, draping various straps across the bed and securing the clips at the ends to the mysterious clamps under the side-rails.  Their actions were quick and sure, with no false starts.  Obviously, they both knew exactly what they were doing.  Soon, all the straps and their attached cuffs were in their proper positions and awaiting the installation of a naughty maid.

Kelly tugged on the cuffs and backed towards the locked door, more from nervousness than with any hope of escape.  Obviously, she was the naughty maid in question.

Or not.

"Well," Emily said to Bess, smiling brightly, "down you go."

"Me?" Bess demanded.

Bess? Kelly wondered.  I'm not the naughty maid?

"Who's the current leader in terms of demerits?" Emily inquired with a broad smile.

"Not fair!" Bess objected, then nodded at Kelly.  "She only just got here.  She hasn't had time to rack up demerits."

"But you have," Emily giggled, then nodded at the bed.  "Down you go."

Bess rolled her eyes (in the manner of a Long-suffering Martyr) and carefully reclined on her bed.  Smiling sweetly (as usual) Emily worked her way around the bed, securing Bess at the wrists, thighs, ankles, and neck in the waiting cuffs.  All too soon, the Senior Maid was spreadeagled on her bed in a pose that was simultaneously loose and stringent.  That is, Bess had wiggle room, but the cuffs did not.  Bess could writhe atop the bed (somewhat), but the restraint system rigidly embraced the mattress, dimpling the edges on both sides.

And speaking of writhing, Bess executed a perfunctory "courtesy struggle" to demonstrate her helplessness.  She groped with her fingers, but they came nowhere near the narrow outer straps securing the wrist cuff's broad, padded inner straps.  Finally, she heaved a deep, heartbreaking sigh of Profound Despair, and batted her eyes at her BFF.

"Oh, shut up!" Kelly huffed, tugging on her steel cuffs.  "You're still a rat."  She focused her Righteous Ire on the grinning cook.  "And as for you..."

Still smiling, Emily waited for Kelly to compose a witty and scathing condemnation.  Seconds passed...  "Well?" she said finally.

"Never mind," Kelly sighed, "and... shut up."

"Silly Goose," Emily giggled, then reached back into the nightstand drawer and produced a ball-gag.  The leather strap matched the brown color and slightly pebbled finish of Bess' other bonds (and the tucked-into-bed bonds in Mistress Alice's bedroom).  The mouth-plugging sphere was black rubber.

The smiling cook and prisoner-of-the-bed locked eyes.  Emily had the gag between her two hands, ready to fill Bess' pouting mouth.  Bess tugged weakly on her inescapable bonds.

"Oh, who do you think you're foolin'?" Kelly demanded.  "You're both rats and you both have been planning this, like, forever, so just get on with it!"

Emily giggled (big surprise), Bess laughed, then gave a muffled, somewhat outraged shriek—"Mrrrf!"—as Emily abruptly shoved the ball-gag into her mouth and secured the strap at the nape of her neck, under her long, tousled brown hair.  Bess stared daggers at the giggling cook.  The ball was about two inches in diameter, more than enough to plug her growling mouth, and Emily had tightened the strap until Bess' cheeks bulged. 

Kelly had to admit, it was an adequate gag and properly applied, but she still didn't forgive her fellow employees and alleged friends for staging this obvious charade for her benefit.  "Okay, okay, very impressive," Kelly huffed, gazing down at her BFF as she wiggled and tugged on her restraints and shook her gagged head.  "Quite a show," Kelly continued.  "Quite the entertaining little... skit."

"Thank you, Kelly," Emily giggled executing a cute little bow.  She then took Kelly by the arm and led her towards the bedroom door.

"Hey!" Kelly objected, looking back over her shoulder at Bess, her restraints, and the bed.  "I'm not done checking out the, uh, system."

"Hold that thought," Emily purred, opened the door, and led Kelly across the threshold.

Bess had the last word—"Mrrrpfh!"—if you can it call that.

"Emily," Kelly sighed as she was led down the hall to her own bedroom, "I just wanted to know what the deal was with the clamps under the bed.  Now I know.  And why the handcuffs?"

"The pretty bracelets are so I can control you, Silly Goose," Emily giggled as she opened the bedroom door, led her nightie-clad captive across the threshold, then closed the door and threw the deadbolt.

Kelly watched with growing apprehension (and a quiver of arousal) as Emily strolled to the bed, pulled out her keys, and unlocked and opened the nightstand's bottom drawer.  The quiver intensified into a bona fide pussy-purr as Emily began pulling straps with attached cuffs from the drawer and attaching them to the bed.  The leather had the same brown color and expensive finish as Bess' bed straps.  And as for the system's configuration—as Emily deployed strap after strap and snapped their end-clips to the side-rail clamps—it was also the same.  Soon, only one thing was missing.

Kelly, the missing thing in question, took a careful step back, followed by a second, but when she tried to take a third, her butt and cuffed hands bumped into the closed and locked bedroom door.

Emily smiled sweetly, then closed the nightstand drawer and strolled in Kelly's direction, swinging her denim-clad hips.  "Silly Goose," she purred, "where do you think you're going?"

"Ohhh!" Kelly whined.  "Emily!  No!"

Cook grabbed the junior maid from behind and a wrestling match ensued.  It was a decidedly unequal and unfair wrestling match.  After all, it was Emily's cotton top and bra-clad boobs against Kelly's negligee-clad back and bare arms; Emily's grabby hands against Kelly's cuffed hands; and Emily's nimble fingers against Kelly's panties.  Nonetheless, Kelly struggled, twisted, and fought (see also wigled. shivered, shuddered, and quivered).

"Emily!" Kelly complained again.  Her panties might be sliding down her kicking legs, but she wasn't striking her colors.  Kelly continued struggling, writhing, etc., etc.  "You're a rat!  Hey!  Hey!"

Giggling and smiling, Emily had plunked Kelly down on her bed and the waiting straps, and was buckling her left ankle in the appropriate cuff.  Kelly continued struggling and kicking, but soon her right ankle, right thigh, and left thigh were also secured.

"Ohhh!"  Kelly continued struggling as Emily encouraged (meaning forced) her to sit up in bed, then pulled her nightie up and over her head, leaving it in a tangle around her arms.  "No!"

Emily then encouraged (forced) Kelly back down onto the bed and secured her neck in the strap system's collar.

"You're a rat-rat-rat!" Kelly pouted as Emily pulled her cuffed wrists to one side, far enough for her to unlock the left cuff and pull the nightie free, then secured Kelly's left wrist in the left leather cuff even with the collar.  Kelly lifted her butt and back as much as the bed-straps allowed and pulled her right arm from behind her back.  The steel cuffs still attached to her right wrist and the tangled nightie impeded her efforts, but she extracted her right arm and bravely groped for the leather cuff pinning her left wrist to the bed.  She fumbled for the narrow outer strap securing the cuff's padded inner strap, but before she gained any headway Emily nipped the "escape attempt" in the bud by climbing onto the bed, straddling Kelly's pinioned body, settling at least part of her weight on the struggling maid's tummy, pulling the nightie from her arm and tossing it aside, then seizing the steel cuffs and using them to firmly guide Kelly's right hand to the right leather cuff.

"Ow!" Kelly pouted.  "That hurts."

"Sorry darling," Emily giggled as she unlocked and removed the steel cuffs and secured the leather cuff.  "But if you weren't such a squirmy Silly Goose, it wouldn't be necessary to gently twist your wrist.  In any case, your skin is unmarked."

Kelly managed to suppress most of the smile trying to curl her pouting lips.  "Rat," she sighed, tugging on her new bonds.

Smiling brightly, Emily folded the steel cuffs and slid them into the back pocket of her jeans, then leaned forward, cupped Kelly's breasts, and gently squeezed.

Still pouting, Kelly shivered in outrage (and ignored her purring pussy).  "Keep your ratty hands to your ratty self," she huffed.  The helpless junior maid squirmed and kicked and tugged on her bonds as Cook continued kneading her boobs (like a couple of lumps of bread dough).  Just as Kelly had suspected, the York sisters' tuck-the-maid-into-bed restraint system was very effective.  And as for Emily's hands... they were also effective.

Shivers of outrage (or something) shook Kelly's body as she struggled and tugged and kicked and... "Hey!"  ...stared in outrage (and nothing else) when Emily not only stopped manhandling her boobs, but compounded the offense by climbing off Kelly's body and the bed!  Kelly lifted her head (or tried, anyway) and watched Emily open the nightstand's lower drawer... and pull out a ball-gag identical to the ball-gag currently ball-gagging her ball-gagged BFF down the hall.

"Ratty-rat-rat-rat!" Kelly huffed.  As Emily (smiling her usual infuriating bubbly smile) approached her pouting mouth with the ball-gag in both hands, she considered whining and squirming and making a helpless, naked, pathetic display, but instead continued characterizing Emily as a rodent—right up to the moment the gag's black rubber mouth-plug plugged her mouth and Emily buckled its strap at the nape of her neck.  "Mrrrpfh!"  She glared up at Emily.

"That pretty pixie of yours makes it so easy to properly buckle a gag," Emily cooed as she combed her fingers through Kelly's short, auburn bangs.

"Mrrr," Kelly growled... then her eyes widened.  "Mrrrf?"

Emily was leaving!  Still smiling (and giggling) she crossed the room, opened the door without a word, stepped across the threshold, and pulled it closed behind her.

Kelly tugged on her bonds and squirmed her nude, captive body in frustration as she heard the key turned in the lock.  "Mrrrpfh!"  Getting stripped naked, strapped to their bed, gagging, and with only the token ravishment of a little boob fondling to show for it?  That was just... rude!  "Mrrr!"

Seconds passed.

Seconds became minutes.

It was more languishing... in her own bed, no less.  Kelly tugged on her bonds to pass the time.  The "maid-system" was certainly effective, no question about it, and so was the gag.

Suddenly—"Mrrr?"—the key rattled in the lock, the door opened, and the York sisters entered Kelly's bedroom.  Both were dressed for bed in flimsy robes and two-piece negligees similar to the saucy little number Emily had wrestled from Kelly's squirming body before callously strapping her to her bed.  Both were... hot (in Kelly's naked, helpless, bed-bound and gagged opinion).

"How delightful," Alice chuckled as she strolled towards the bed.

"Adorable," Wendy agreed.

Kelly's retort was succinct.  "Mrf!" (Gaglish to English: "I got yer 'adorable' right here!")  She also tugged on her bonds, twisted her pinioned body, and pointed her nipples in a dismissive manner.

Alice sat on the left side of the bed, Wendy on the right.  They both rested a hand on Kelly's stomach and began slow, gentle massages of their shivering maid's thighs, hips, abdomen, and breasts.  This impromptu employers/employee interview continued for several very long seconds... with the York sisters smiling and their hands gently gliding... and with Kelly squirming and glaring at her super-nice, super-rich, and scantily-clad bosses.

Finally, Alice turned to her sister.  "Shouldn't you be elsewhere?" she inquired.

Their hands continued gliding.  Kelly continued squirming.

"Yeah," Wendy conceded, "but... whats the rush?"

"The rush is... go play with your own maid," Alice purred.

"Eventually," Wendy chuckled.

"Now," Alice suggested (ordered).

Kelly watched this exchange in the manner of a naked, bound, and gagged spectator of a particularly interesting tennis match, turning her head from sister to sister, as much as the leather collar strapped around her neck would allow.

Still smiling, Wendy heaved a sigh, gave Kelly's right thigh a final pat, then stood and sashayed through the bedroom door.  "If you need me, I'll be down the hall," she announced as she made her exit, closing the door behind her.

Alice smiled at Kelly, who locked eyes with her senior employer.  Alice's hand continued gliding back and forth across Kelly's lower tummy. between her bellybutton and reddish-brown pubic bush.

"I want you to know how very grateful Wendy and I are that you've entered our employ," she said.  "Emily is also happy, and Bess can finally stop complaining about her excessive workload."

Excessive workload my ass, Kelly thought, squirming the ass in question and the rest of her as Alice's hand continued its gentle massage.

"I'm sure you'll be very happy here," Alice continued, "and after you complete your degree, I intend to enlarge your duties to help with the administration of our business and charitable activities; Bess as well."

"Mrrf?" Kelly inquired (after a fashion).

"The position is called 'Lady's Companion', Silly Goose," Alice chuckled.  "Traditionally, that means everything from handmaiden to correspondence secretary to general purpose problem handler and everything in between.  But all that lies in the future.  For now, you're our maid... also... you require moisturizing."

Kelly's eyes widened.  "Mrrk?"  Moisturizing?

Alice stood, turned (in a swirl of diaphanous fabric) and padded to the bedroom door.

Kelly tugged on her bonds and watched Alice open the door.  Moisturizing?

"I'll bring a bottle from my bathroom," Alice said, pausing in the threshold.  "Also..."  Her smile turned somewhat sinister (or possibly coy).  "Ever hear of 'Crimson Oil', Kelly?"

Kelly shook her ball-gagged and collared head.

"It's distilled from red naga chilies, ginger root, and stinging nettles," Alice explained.  "After the skin is thoroughly moisturized, the oil is very carefully painted onto especially sensitive areas... such as the nipples and labia.  The result is a remarkable tingling sensation.  At first its barely noticeable, but slowly, over the course of about an hour, it becomes very noticeable indeed."  Her smile widened.  "It's the proverbial itch you can't scratch.  Truly dreadful.  And it goes on and on and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it... especially if you're strapped to your bed."

Kelly's heart hammered and her breasts heaved as she panted through her flaring nostrils and ball-gagged mouth.  "Mrrrpfh."  It was a gagged whimper, not a protest.

"I think I still have a vial of the horrid concoction around here somewhere," Alice continued.  "If not," she said as she pulled the door closed, "I know I have a vibrator."

The door closed, the key turned in the lock, and Kelly was alone... and helpless... and very worried about "Crimson Oil"... if the damn stuff even existed.

Just great, Kelly silently fumed, I'm a full-time maid in a household of kinky clowns and jokers.  Mistress is down the hall moisturizing and/or boinking Bess, while Mistress is looking for her vial of Crimson Torture Oil, and is gonna come back and moisturize and/or torture and/or vibro-boink me!  She tugged on her cuffs and heaved a gagged sigh.  Meanwhile, Emily is probably in her room watching The British Baking Show and playing with herself.  Not to worry.  She'll get hers.  I'll see to it... if I survive the Crimson Oil... if there is Crimson Oil. 

Could be worse, Kelly mused.  I could be waiting tables.

◄

Chapter 8

♥

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