|by Van ©2017
You can't say
Kelly McBride takes unnecessary risks.
At the moment, the door to her crappy studio apartment was
double-locked, and with the chain engaged for even more
security. Also, all the windows were closed and latched
with carefully measured scraps of wood propped in place to make
them impossible to jimmy from the outside, even though there was
no fire escape and a five story drop to the alley below.
Granted, said crappy apartment was in a relatively low crime
area of Brooklyn, but given the circumstances of the evening,
caution was appropriate.
Kelly, a 20-something, 5' 6", professional waitress, wore her
red hair cropped short in a practical, charming, and
tip-inducing pixie-cut and was blessed with clear, pale skin
that blushes peach-pink and blossoms with freckles after
extended solar contact. Also, she has big green eyes and a
memorable smile, both of which are also tip-inducing. She
watches her diet and exercises on a regular basis, and as a
result her shapely body has excellent muscle tone and is pretty
close to the ideal body fat index. Her boobs are nicely
shaped (if she does say so herself), albeit not particularly
And at the moment, Kelly was writhing on her bed, completely
naked, tightly and inescapably bound, and quite effectively
Specifically, Kelly's mouth was stuffed to capacity with a
pretty but slightly worn cotton bandana that was held in place
under several stretched, tight layers of an allegedly
"flesh"-colored elastic bandage that covered her mouth and
more-or-less mummified her lower face with its ends firmly
knotted together at the nape of her neck. Also, the neck
in question was buckled in a wide, stiff, restrictive leather
collar, her only item of actual " fetish gear". She'd
picked it out in a nice little Goth/Sex shop in the Village.
In terms of bondage, an inch-and-a-half-wide brown leather belt,
regularly perforated by pairs of holes along its entire length
and secured by a double-tongued buckle, pinned her upper-arms to
her torso and squashed her breasts. A second, identical
belt tightly bound her folded legs together, pressing against
her shins and dimpling the flesh of her thighs. In
addition, a length of cotton clothesline encircled her waist and
passed through her crotch, cleaving her pussy and butt-cheeks
and securing the connecting chain of the pair of chromed steel
Peerless handcuffs currently locked around her wrists.
Finally, her big toes were bound together by means of a
milky-white plastic cable-tie.
Kelly McBride was naked, well-gagged, and inescapably
bound! Who had done this dastardly deed? Who had
perpetrated this act of despicable depravity? The answer
was simplicity itself: Kelly McBride.
The self-imprisoned prisoner writhing on her bed had been into
self-bondage since junior high school. It wasn't what one
could call an obsession, but Kelly did enjoy the occasional bout
of "restrained relaxation". While attending high school
and later community college Kelly had taken the precaution of
having a "safety" in the form of her giggling BFF, Bess
Ryder. Before capturing herself, Kelly would alert Bess
that she would have to come to her rescue in the event that she
didn't receive an all's clear phone call by a prearranged
time. Unfortunately, the use of that sensible safeguard
had ended when they both graduated and moved on to the
big-wide-world of full employment.
Kelly had paid her tuition with various waitress jobs and she'd
continued this "career" after completing her Associate's
degree. Unfortunately, there was no way she could afford
to continue her studies at a four-year school and earn her
Bachelor's. Actually, Kelly had big plans to move up in
the restaurant world from waitress to hostess to assistant
manager, eventually winding up at a fancy Manhattan
establishment and making the semi-big bucks.
Bess, on the other hand, had taken a job as a live-in maid, of
all things. Actually, Bess explained on those rare
occasions when their mutually busy schedules allowed the friends
to meet for drinks, the job was more that of "lady's companion"
than maid, although some housework was involved. Kelly
didn't see the attraction. She'd much rather spend long
hours on her feet with a glued-on smile taking orders and
carrying food to tables of snooty women and leering men.
Anyway, Bess was no longer reliably available for safety duty,
so Kelly was forced to rely on herself.
Dangerous? Not really, in Kelly's humble opinion, not if
she kept things smart and simple, and that meant the old standby
of handcuffs and an ice-timer.
self-bound occasions (such as tonight) that meant the key to the
cuffs binding her wrists could be found dangling at the end of a
stout, braided nylon cord and suspended several feet above
Kelly's fluttering fingers, out of reach no matter how she
struggled, stretched, and groped in "desperation."
However, after an hour or two... or three... the key would
reliably and automatically drop within her easy reach.
The details of Kelly's system were as follows: The far end
of the cord was tied to an eye-bolt screwed into the ceiling at
the far end of the apartment. The other end passed through
a second eye-bolt directly over the bed (and Kelly), then was
tied to a hefty fishing weight from which dangled six additional
inches of cord and the handcuff key. Meanwhile, in the
center of the room and well away from the bed, the middle of the
cord passed through the hook of a "suet cage birdfeeder"
containing ice cubes and resting in a large bowl on the floor.
The fishing weight outweighed the empty cage and was more than
sufficient to lift it from the bowl and thereby allow the key to
drop within range of Kelly's fingers, but not with the
added weight of ice in the cage. In other words, the ice
had to melt before gravity would allow Kelly to free herself,
and the more ice in the cage, the longer she'd have to wait.
The system was elegantly engineered, well-tested, and foolproof,
but Kelly was no fool. There was a backup. The
second key that had come with the cuffs was on the nightstand
and within Kelly's semi-easy reach. There was a catch, of
course. The key in question was at the bottom of a
decorative, 16 oz. Mason jar full to the top with honey.
If Kelly decided she needed to avail herself of said backup key
to free herself, she couldn't do so without unscrewing the lid
and making an unavoidable and colossally sticky mess she'd have
to clean up afterwards. It was a contingency she never
intended to exercise.
Aficionados of the self-bondage experience might wonder why
there was no vibrator tied between Kelly's legs and snuggled
against her rope-cleaved pussy. Kelly owned a wand-style
Hitachi and had added it to her bondage ensemble a time or two,
but after the initial orgasm she found the continued buzzing
quickly turned into a decidedly unpleasant ordeal. Even on
its lowest setting the nonstop hum against her post-orgasmic,
hypersensitive hoo-haw was the proverbial itch she couldn't
scratch. Kelly had plans to procure a programmable
electronic timer to turn the thing on and off at regular
intervals and thereby allow for reasonable rest periods, but she
hadn't gotten around to it.
Maybe now I'll have the time, Kelly thought as she
relaxed in her self-imposed bondage, before I run out of
money and get thrown out onto the street.
A week ago, along with the rest of the restaurant staff, Kelly
had been informed that Portabella, the trendy bistro at
which she was currently employed, would be going out of business
at the end of the month. It wasn't the first time a place
of work had closed on her, and Kelly knew she'd land on her
feet. She had several prospects, but unfortunately, some
were slightly iffy and accepting any of them would mean a step
or two back down the seniority ladder. She had sufficient
savings to last two or three months and knew she'd be getting a
good letter of reference, but the uncertainty was something she
would just as soon live without.
Kelly heaved a well-muffled sigh through her gag and tried to
get back to concentrating on her current damsel-in-distress
status. She thrashed and struggled on the bed and mewled
through her gag. "Mrrrpfh!" Help-help! she
mentally declaimed, I've been kidnapped and... and...
Oh, screw it. It was all very melodramatic, but she
could tell that tonight it just wasn't gonna happen. She
was too worried about the impending job hunt. This was
a bad idea, Kelly decided, meaning her choice of the
evening's recreation, and heaved another gagged sigh.
The problem was, of course, that her cleverly engineered delayed
release system didn't give a fig if she'd changed her
mind. It worked whether or not she wanted to call off the
exercise. And to make matters worse... Kelly found she
wasn't entirely sure precisely how many cubes she'd loaded into
the cage before flopping onto the bed and rendering herself
helpless. Was it three or four? Certainly no
more than five.
That was another project she'd been putting off: running a
Science Experiment and establishing the precise relationship
between time 'til release and the number of ice cubes. Up
until now she'd just randomly loaded a few cubes in the cage and
been "rewarded" with two or three hours of captivity...
sometimes four. Anyway, she'd just have to wait for the
ice to melt... which might be a while... which would be
Suddenly, Kelly's iPhone gleeped, announcing the arrival
of a text message.
Well, Kelly thought, staring at the phone on the
nightstand next to the jar of honey containing her backup
handcuff key, whoever and whatever it is, I hope it's not
With the passage
of time and the inevitable triumph of thermodynamics and
gravity, Kelly freed herself and learned that the text was good
news (maybe) and not an emergency. The message was from Bess, and in her BFF's
own thumb-typed words: "Have i got a deal 4 u!!!"
This marginally informative statement was followed by a
Kelly gazed at the message with a decidedly more dubious smile
than the one on the screen. Her BFF always meant well, but
Kelly heaved a sigh and glanced at her bedside alarm
clock. It was too late to go out tonight, and from experience she
knew Bess would want to explain whatever she was
proposing in person so she could act smug and drag
things out and milk the situation for all it was worth. Therefore, the
proposed "deal" would remain a mystery for the immediate
"This better be good," Kelly muttered as her thumbs began
negotiating with Bess' thumbs for a mutually agreeable place and
time to meet.
Thus it was
that her next day off from Portabella—which was
scheduled to be her final day off before the restaurant
closed its doors forever—Kelly found herself climbing the front
steps of a townhouse in Manhattan's decidedly upscale Upper West
Side. It was a really nice brownstone, borderline Gilded
Age Robber Baron nice, in Kelly's humble opinion, not that she
was much of a scholar of the architectural history of New York
City. She rang the front buzzer and waited.
Kelly watched through the thick glass of a sidelight as
Bess-the-BFF opened the inner door, entered the vestibule, then
opened the front door. She looked Kelly up and down with a
condescending air. "I'm sorry," she intoned, eyeing
Kelly's reasonably priced but undeniably flattering yellow
dress, "riff-raff should use the servant's entrance in
Kelly responded with her best We-are-not-amused moue.
"Hilarious. You're not doing a lot to dispel the whole
'snotty rich people' thing I was worried about, especially
dressed like that." She was referring to earlier
conversations and Bess' current attire: a typical black and
white maid's uniform of sensible shoes, trim-fitting dress with
short sleeves and lace trim, apron, and lace bonnet. The
ensemble was modern and, Kelly admitted reluctantly, not that
ugly, but it was a maid's uniform. On the plus
side, the skirt was short, almost mini-skirt short, and the
scoop neckline allowed (meaning required) Bess to show a
reasonable amount of cleavage; at least Kelly thought those
attributes might be considered pluses. Without a
doubt Bess looked hot—not sexy-French-maid-Halloween-costume
Bess unleashed her trademark goofy smile and Kelly fired
back. Both friends had smiles that could and had been
characterized as goofy, even devastatingly goofy.
"I really appreciate this," Bess said as she stepped aside and
held the door for Kelly to enter. "Welcome to 'Castle
York'," she added with a grand gesture.
"It isn't a done deal yet," Kelly retorted, "and shouldn't you
be curtsying and groveling like I'm one of your employers'
guests? What if they come downstairs and find you acting
human? Won't you be fired?"
"In the first place," Bess chuckled as she closed the vestibule
door behind them, "the York sisters might be super-rich, but
they're really nice people. And in the second place,
they're both out for the day. Even the cook is out.
We have the place to ourselves."
"Wonderful," Kelly said evenly as Bess led her down the central
hallway. She gave the various sitting rooms or parlors or
whatever they called them the once over as they passed.
Without a doubt, the York sisters were loaded, really
loaded. From what she could see the townhouse screamed
money. Also, good taste. Everything—furniture,
drapes, carpets, the art on the walls—was expensive, but it was
money well spent. Nothing was gaudy or gauche (in Kelly's
humble opinion). Also, the place looked lived in, and had
been that way for years, meaning generations. If pressed,
Kelly couldn't have put a finger on any specific details that
had led her to that conclusion, but there was a lack of...
sterility? The townhouse was a home, not a Hollywood movie
set or an exhibit in a style museum.
"I'll give you the grand tour," Bess said, "but first, I want
you to see your room."
"You mean your room," Kelly huffed. "Like I told
you, this isn't a done deal yet. Don't count your
chickens before they cross the road."
"Point taken," Bess purred, "I suppose I am putting the cart
before the gift horse's mouth."
Fractured Proverbs was an ongoing game between the two friends,
and protocol required them to suffer each others efforts in
Anyway, the deal in question, the "deal" hinted at in Bess' text
the night of Kelly's last excursion into self-bondage, was for
Kelly to take Bess' place as the York sisters' live-in maid
while Bess went on vacation for a month... meaning Kelly was
being offered the "opportunity" of thirty days of servitude
toiling as the domestic helper of a couple of rich old ladies.
They passed through a door and into what Kelly realized was "The
Servant's Wing." The hall was slightly narrower and the
artwork sparse, but it was basically the same decor and ambiance
as the brownstone's public area—what Kelly had seen of them thus
Bess opened a door and made a sweeping gesture. "Ta-dah!"
Kelly took a step into the room and looked around. "Uh...
nice," she said evenly. Actually, the room was more than
nice. It was nearly the size of Kelly's entire crappy
apartment and the furniture was expensive and... nice.
Bess wasn't fooled. She knew Kelly was impressed.
"Bathroom?" Kelly asked.
"Down the hall," Bess answered. "You'll share it with the
cook, also the sauna and soaking tub."
"No shower?" Kelly huffed.
"Yes, there's a shower," Bess purred. "There's even a
toilet. And two sinks."
"Oh, two sinks," Kelly stated with mock gravity.
"Kelly," Bess sighed.
"Okay, it's nice," Kelly conceded, then turned to face her
pouting friend. "Don't look at me like that. I said
it was nice... and it is."
"C'mon," Bess said, her grin returning as she took Kelly by the
hand. "I'll show you the rest, starting with 'Her
Majesty's Bedchamber'. It's really nice."
"Again," Kelly sighed as she allowed herself to be hustled down
the hallway and towards a rather narrow set of back stairs, "not
dispelling the snotty rich people thing."
"Her Majesty is our nickname for Mistress Alice, the eldest York
sister," Bess explained. They began climbing the stairs to
the second floor.
"And by 'our' you mean..."
"The cook and I," Bess chuckled. "Or is it the cook and
"It's simple," Kelly sighed. "If you're a subject, use
I. If you're an object, use me."
"Subject to what?"
Kelly rolled her eyes. "The subject of the sentence."
"I haven't been sentenced to anything. And what if
I don't object?"
Kelly unleashed her most devastating comeback: "Shut up."
"Shutting up," Bess chuckled, and they continued climbing the
bedroom was vast and luxurious, something Kelly found to be
anything but surprising. The bed was a solidly-built four
poster with a king-size mattress, at least. A smartly
appointed and well organized walk-in closet held expensive
shoes, dresses, and gowns for all occasions, enough to outfit an
entire platoon of nice old ladies. Kelly hadn't yet met
"Mistress Alice", of course, but was willing to spot Bess her
assertion that Alice York was "nice". She could always
change her mind later, right before turning down the substitute
maid job and ruining her BFF's vacation plans. There was
also an attached master bathroom with a giant shower and a huge
Jacuzzi-style tub, plus luxury versions of the usual washbasin
"So..." Kelly drawled, "you have to keep all of this clean?"
Bess shrugged. "I make the bed in the morning and replace
the towels, but a cleaning service comes in every week and does
most of it, and except for the delicates the laundry is
So..." Kelly drawled, again. "I'll have to keep track of
what I'm supposed do and not do in addition to actually doing
Bess smiled. "In a word, yes. I'll make you a list."
"And the cook does the cooking?"
"Yes," Bess purred, "the cook does the cooking. You will
have to learn to prepare and serve tea in the proper English
manner, but Cook will teach you."
Kelly frowned. "The York sisters are English?"
Bess shook her head. "No, the York sisters are
American. The cook is English, but the York
sisters insist on English-style afternoon teas. It
impresses their guests."
"Okay," Kelly sighed as she turned towards the bedroom
door. "Might as well show me the rest of the place."
"Not yet," Bess chuckled, leading Kelly to the bed. "I
still need to show you something here." She
winked. "There's an unusual aspect of the job I
haven't yet divulged."
Kelly stared at her BFF. "Well?"
Bess's lips curled in her best mischievous smirk.
"Mistress Alice and you share a common... shall we say...
Bess opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a
long, wide strap of brown leather with jingling brass hardware
at either end and two wide, brown, padded leather cuffs
attached. With a practiced flip Bess arranged the strap
across the middle of the bed, then reached back into the drawer,
pulled out a second set of strap and cuffs, and arranged it
across the bed much closer to the foot. "Now," she said as
she engaged a clip at the end of the middle belt with a fitting
somewhere under the bed's side-rail, "these clamps are
spring-loaded, so getting the required tension is quite
literally a snap." She secured the strap at the foot of
the bed, then walked around the bed and engaged the clips or
clamps or whatever they were at the far ends of both
straps. The belts in question were now tautly deployed
across the neatly made bed with just enough tension to dimple
the bedspread and the edges of the mattress. "See?
"M-medical restraints?" Bess gasped. It didn't take any
imagination whatsoever to envision a pair of ankles strapped in
the lower cuffs and a two wrists in the middle pair at their
"Yes," Bess chuckled, "muh-medical restraints. "Take off
Bess smiled and rolled her eyes. "Take off your
shoes. I might as well show you how this works now, rather
"Don't be dim," Bess admonished. "Mistress Alice likes to
play at being a helpless prisoner. Not every night, of
course. Maybe once a week. Okay... twice a week."
Bess rolled her eyes again. "Fer cryin' out loud.
Take off your shoes and climb on the bed. And don't you dare
say 'huh' one more time."
Kelly swallowed nervously. "My shoes?"
The mischief was back in Bess' smile. "Can't have you
ruining Her Majesty's bedspread, now can we? C'mon.
You know you want to."
Kelly stared at the taut straps and empty cuffs on the
bed. They were medical-style restraints, but...
obviously expensive. If Gucci or Coach made kinky leather
bondage goods, this setup would be in their catalogs.
Still staring at the waiting leather in a daze, Kelly shuffled
her feet and eased out off her inexpensive but fashionable
high-heeled pumps; then, as if coming out of said daze, shook
her head. "No. No way."
"Yes way," Bess countered. "It goes with the job."
Kelly returned to staring at the bed. "But..."
"I have to show you how this works," Bess stated.
Kelly heaved a sigh, then climbed onto the mattress and reclined
on her back in the center of the bed.
"That's my girl," Bess chuckled, lifted Kelly's right hand and
placed it in the right cuff, wrapped the wide, padded, inner
cuff around said wrist, tucked a slot in the inner cuff through
a brass staple, slid the cuff's narrow outer strap through the
staple, pulled out the slack with a firm jerk, then
tucked the inner strap's end under a leather sleeve.
Kelly tugged on the cuff. "That's tight," she
complained. The padded leather was also surprisingly
comfortable, but she wasn't about to admit that to Bess.
Meanwhile, Bess was working her way around the bed. She
secured Kelly's right ankle... then her left ankle... and
finally, her left wrist. "It's supposed to be
tight," she purred. "And you'll find it quite impossible
to reach the straps with your fingers."
Kelly confirmed her BFF's assertion by twisting her right wrist
and groping with her fingers. Her fingertips didn't even
come close. Just for good measure she kicked her bare feet
and tugged on all four cuffs at once... then heaved a sigh of
Not—going—anywhere, Kelly realized as a familiar thrill
shuddered down her spine and between her legs.
"I call this the basic 'gingerbread-man' position," Bess
explained, "arms at your sides and feet apart."
"And 'Mistress Alice' makes you do this to her?" Kelly
asked. "All night, or just for an hour or two?"
"Oh, all night," Bess answered. "I tuck her in at bedtime,
then release her in the morning."
"I see," Kelly muttered, then gave her wrist cuffs one last
tug. "Well, that's... something." She mustered her
best not-at-all-nervous smile and batted her big green
eyes. "Okay... I see how this works. Guess ya
better let me go so we can finish the tour."
Bess grinned, sat on the edge of the bed, then unlaced and
removed her sensible black maid-shoes. She then scooted
all the way onto the bed, close to her pinioned prisoner.
"What's your hurry?"
"Hey!" Kelly objected, squirming in her bonds and atop the still
more-or-less neatly made bed. "Hands! Hands!"
The hands in question belonged to Bess, of course, and had just
lifted Kelly's skirt and exposed her thighs and
panties. Kelly's bare legs were already exposed, of
course, all the way down to the ankle-cuffs, as were her bare
feet and wiggling toes. And now one of Bess' hands was
gently stroking Kelly's left thigh!
"Don't have cute little marmalade kittens," the naughty maid/BFF
"Bess!" Kelly whined. She kicked herself—mentally and
metaphorically—and for multiple reasons. (1) She'd let
Bess talk her into her current predicament; (1A) and it hadn't
taken a great deal of persuasion. (2) It wasn't exactly a
revelation that Bess had grabby hands. She was also prone
to loose lips—and as if to prove that very point Bess leaned
close and planted a juicy wet one on Kelly's pouting face.
And finally, (3), or possibly (2A), Bess and Kelly had an
adolescent history of using each other to "practice kissing
boys." It went way back, all the way to junior high; and
the same went for "second base practice," the groping and/or
pawing of breasts. Bess also began proving that
point (or sub-point) by cupping Kelly's left breast and giving
it a gentle squeeze.
"Bess," Kelly reiterated, tugging on her bonds yet again.
"Why not now?" Bess chuckled as she gave Kelly's breast
another squeeze and her lips another kiss. "Like I said, I
appreciate your holding down my job while I visit the
folks. I'm just proving it."
"And I said it isn't a done deal," Kelly
countered. "Mrrrrpfh!" Her BFF's lips and tongue
were back, and this time the kiss was wet and deep.
Also, Bess' hand had left her breast and was back on her thigh,
her upper thigh. "Mrrrrm!"
Bess broke the kiss, turned to the bedroom door—then leaped to
her bare feet, vacating the bed as if it had suddenly and
magically been transformed into a hot stove-top! "Mistress
Alice!" she gasped, then regained her composure (poorly).
"You're home early."
Kelly lifted her head to find a quite attractive older women
striding into the room. She was 50-something, possibly 60-something,
with reddish-brown hair and laughing brown eyes, and was dressed
in an obviously expensive business ensemble: hose, skirt,
blouse, and jacket. Kelly blushed bright red. Also,
her heart started beating double-time and her breasts
heaving. Unfortunately, crawling under a rock was not
a viable option.
"This would be your friend, Kelly McBride?" the woman—Mistress
Alice—inquired, smiling down at Kelly.
"Y-yes, Mistress," Bess stammered. The wayward maid was
also blushing, like her soon-to-be replacement on the bed.
"I-I was just showing her how to... uh..."
"So I see," Alice purred. She continued smiling down at
Kelly for several seconds, then turned to Bess. "Tea," she
Bess curtsied, muttered "Yes, Mistress," then stooped, grabbed
her shoes, and bolted for the bedroom door.
Yes, Bess was abandoning Kelly to her fate! She watched
her BFF's rapid retreat—Coward!—then focused on
Alice. She's really hot for an old lady, the
prisoner-of-the-bed decided. In fact, she's a ten, an
old lady ten.
Alice sat on the bed, as Bess had done, but kept her hands to
herself. "Pleased to meet you, Kelly. Bess tells us
you're a waitress."
Kelly noted her soon-to-be-employer was a redhead, a dark
redhead, or maybe a reddish brunette. Auburn, she
decided. "Uh, yeah," Kelly belatedly answered. "And
me too. Pleased, I mean." She tugged on her wrist
bonds and bit her lower lip. "I'm looking for a new
job. Portabella, my current gig, is going out of
"So Bess explained." She reached out and placed a hand on
the cuff imprisoning Kelly's left wrist. "I hope you
aren't shocked by my... eccentricity. Bess assured me you
have a similar interest and would be understanding."
Kelly nodded. She was still blushing and was managing to
refrain from tugging on her bonds, but found she couldn't
suppress the delicate shiver rippling down her spine (and
through her hoo-haw). The situation was... unusual.
"I, uh, yes," she finally managed to answer.
Just then another strange woman entered the bedroom!
"According to Bess the new maid is here," the stranger said with
"And she is," Alice chuckled. "Kelly, this is my sister,
Kelly blinked her mortified green eyes and surrendered to the
urge to resume tugging on her bonds. Wendy York was
40-something and undeniably a redhead. In fact, she was a
bona fide ginger... of the freckled variety. She was also
stunning, every bit as attractive as her older sister in her own
way. Also like her sister, she was dressed for business in
a skirt, blouse, and jacket.
"Pleased to meet you," Wendy said, her lips curled in a warm
smile. "Oh my. I simply love your pixie-cut and big
green eyes. You're adorable."
"Uh, thanks," Kelly responded. Normally, she didn't like
being referred to as "adorable," but given the circumstances...
"I quite agree," Alice chuckled, "but let's not be rude.
Bess is making tea and I'm going to change. Then, we can
continue this interview like civilized people."
Wendy nodded. "I'll change too." She turned towards
the door. "I'm so glad you're here, Kelly."
"Uh... likewise... I think," Kelly responded as Wendy made her
exit. She was still blushing... and was beginning to worry
it might become a permanent condition.
Meanwhile, Alice gave Kelly's left hand a reassuring squeeze,
stood, and entered the walk-in closet.
For the moment, Kelly was alone... strapped to her potential
temporary employer's bed... and unable to free herself.
Bess, Kelly thought, heaving a sigh, I am so
going to kill you. And it will be slow and gruesome.
She didn't mean it, of course, but she wasn't happy.
Kelly had already established that crawling under a rock wasn't
a viable option. She now eliminated drying up and blowing
away, as well as developing Sudden Onset Super-strength and
bursting her bonds like Wonder Woman or the She-Hulk. That
left only one possible course of action: acting casual.
She willed her heart to stop hammering and her breathing to
return to normal. Casual... so very casual.
It became her new mantra... and lasted all of about three
minutes, the time it took for Mistress Alice to emerge from the
The eldest York sister had changed into Moroccan sandals, faded
designer jeans, and a very pretty white cotton blouse.
Apparently, casual was, indeed, to be the style of the
interview. Alice sat on the bed, as she had before, and
smiled. "Still here, I see," she purred.
"Uh, yeah," Kelly agreed. Alice's manner was teasing,
rather than gloating. Having just met her, that was
Kelly's impression, anyway.
"Now," Alice continued, "it is a live-in position, but
we know you'll need to keep your apartment, so enough to cover a
month's rent will be added to your compensation. Also,
you'll need to continue hunting for a new job, so we'll allow
time off for that purpose."
"And we can help." This last was from Wendy, who was
breezing back into the room. She'd changed into jeans and
a cotton blouse, like Alice, but her feet were bare. She
sat on the bed opposite her sister and smiled. "We have
contacts in the restaurant community."
Kelly looked from sister to sister. "Uh, thanks."
Just then Bess-the-despicable-traitor reentered the bedroom and
curtsied. "Tea is served in the garden parlor," she
La-de-da, Kelly mused.
"Excellent," Alice said, then stood, as did her sister.
"Bess," the elder York sister continued, "please remove your
shoes, release Ms. McBride, and take her place."
"Huh?" Kelly and Bess blurted simultaneously.
"Good idea, sis," Wendy chuckled, smiling at Bess. "We'll
be able to confirm that Kelly is a quick study."
Bess heaved a sigh, then her smile returned. "But I need
to serve the tea," she noted, "and Kelly doesn't know
how." Normally, that would be a winning argument, but not
"I'm sure we'll manage," Alice purred.
Bess' smile faded. There was a brief pause... then she
sighed, again, stooped and unlaced her shoes, kicked them off,
and arranged them side-by-side at the foot of the bed. She
then climbed onto the bed and began the process of releasing
Kelly's wrist cuffs.
Kelly didn't know whether to be relieved or smug, so she went
with both. "As I recall," she said quietly as Bess scooted
down the bed to release her ankles, "this'll be the first time I
get to tie you up. When we were kids you were
always the one with an excuse to teach me how to not
Now Bess was the one blushing. "Shut up," she whispered
through clenched teeth.
From her prospective employers' smiles it was obvious that they
had overheard. "It's true," Kelly said for their benefit,
then climbed from the bed and patted the surface. "There
ya go," she said, smiling at her BFF. "Still warm."
Bess glowered at Kelly, flopped onto her back, and assumed the
required position. She continued glowering as Kelly
secured her left wrist... her left ankle... her right ankle...
and finally, her right wrist.
"Brava," Alice politely applauded. Wendy applauded
Kelly grinned and executed a theatrical bow. Obviously,
she was feeling much more at home in "Castle York" and had
decided the new prisoner-of-the-bed's assertion that the sisters
were "nice people" was 100% correct. Kinky and
nice, she noted, but what's wrong with that?
"Come," Alice said with a smile, extending her hand to Kelly.
Kelly took her prospective employer's hand and allowed herself
to be led from the bedroom. Wendy was close behind.
Kelly looked back over her shoulder and shared what we hoped was
her most infuriatingly smug smile with her BFF as she crossed
"I'll be there in a moment," Wendy called.
Kelly watched as Wendy closed the bedroom door—from the inside,
"This way, dear," Alice purred, and they continued down the
nervously as Wendy returned to the bed. She also tugged on
her inescapable leather bonds for two reasons: (1) it was
expected that she should put on a show, and (2) the smile
curling the younger York sister's lips was disturbing (in a
delightfully horrifying sort of way).
"You're a wicked girl," Wendy purred. "I'm afraid I'm
going to have to punish you severely."
"I was only following orders,' the captive maid observed
innocently, batting her big brown eyes for added effect.
Wendy sat on the bed, reached out, and placed her right hand on
Bess' uniform-covered lower tummy. "My sister ordered you
to strap your adorable little friend to her bed? I find
"Not in so many words," Bess admitted. "I decided to show
initiative. Yeah, let's go with initiative."
"No," Wendy chuckled, "let's go with wicked." She lifted
the lower hem of Bess' dress and tucked it under the apron's
waistband, then leaned close and slid the squirming maid's
panties down her hips to her mid thighs. This left Bess
fully exposed from the waist down, of course. "There's
only one thing to do with a wicked girl," Wendy purred, "but
Bess lifted her head, craned her neck, and watched as Wendy
leaned to the side and reached into the lowest drawer of the
nightstand, the very drawer from which Bess had produced the
straps and cuffs that had formerly bound Kelly to the bed and
were now binding her.
"Where is it?" Wendy muttered... then her smile returned.
"Ah, it was way in the back." She straightened up and held
a ball-gag for Bess' inspection. The spherical mouth-plug
was black silicon-rubber, an inch and a half in diameter, and
pierced by three round breathing holes. The leather strap
was the same richly textured brown as the straps and cuffs
binding Bess and its buckle the same gleaming brass.
"It's in the back for a reason," Bess explained, affecting her
best pitiful pout. "Mistress Alice hates the thing.
She hardly ever wants me to use it on her."
"I see," Wendy chuckled, "which makes it the perfect thing for
punishing wicked girls. Open."
Bess heaved the appropriate theatrical sigh to go with her pout,
then obeyed Mistress Wendy's order. "Mrrrf!" She
found the ball to be a quite adequate plug, especially after
Wendy tightened the strap at the nape of her neck and under her
hair, tight enough to force the ball completely into her mouth
and cause her cheeks to bulge. She locked eyes with Wendy
as the smiling ginger straightened her bangs.
"Now," Wendy purred, "I think we're ready to begin."
Bess tugged on her cuffs and watched as Wendy's right hand
cupped her left breast and squeezed. "M'mrpfh." She
then lifted her gagged head and continued watching as the hand
slowly, gently slid down her stomach... through her neatly
trimmed pubic bush... and cupped her pussy.
"I'll only have time to prime the pump, as the saying goes,"
Wendy said. "Alice and your friend will be waiting for me
in the parlor, and I could use a cup of tea." Her
index finger began massaging Bess' clitoris.
"Yes, this is only a foretaste, wicked girl," Wendy purred,
slowling accelerating the pace and deftly stimulating some of
Bess' absolutely favorite nerve endings.
The friging continued for a full minute... then longer.
Bess continued squirming and testing her bonds, as well as
voicing her displeasure (meaning pleasure).
Wendy's smile was truly evil, and the finger performed its magic
with skilled, experienced dexterity.
Bess was close to cumming, very close.
"Nrrrrrm." She closed her eyes and arched her back
And then, Wendy's finger was gone, leaving Bess in the lurch!
Bess opened her eyes as the bed shook. Wendy was already
striding towards the bedroom door. "MRRRF!" she
"I'll be back after your little friend has gone home," Wendy
promised. She opened the door, then paused in the
threshold to gaze at the flustered, helpless captive on her
sister's bed. "Punishing wicked girls takes time."
"MMMMF!" Bess screamed as the door closed, then heard the click
of the lock turning. She heaved a gagged sigh and relaxed
in her bonds. Spending a month with her folks and hometown
friends was going to be fun, but it would also be four weeks
away from "Castle York." Every silver lining has a
cloud, she mused, then the twinkle returned to her eyes.
She knew (or was 99% sure) that Kelly was going to owe her big
time when all of this was over. Big time.