by Van ©2017
		Chapter 4

Cook was busy as Kelly entered the kitchen.  What she was actually doing, Kelly wasn't sure, but it involved a sharp knife, a cutting board, and some sort of leafy green vegetable that was either an exotic form of lettuce or... something else.  Kelly didn't think it was cilantro or arugula.  The supposedly about-to-be-punished maid affected a serious expression, shooting for fifty-percent bewilderment, fifty-percent apprehension, and zero amusement, all the while valiantly suppressing the smile threatening to curl her lips.

"Oh, Emily?" she asked carefully.

"Yes, Kelly?" responded, continuing to crop the... greenery.

"Mistress Wendy just told me..."  She raised in eyebrow, gazed upwards, and touched her lower lip for dramatic effect.  "What were her exact words?  Oh yes.  'Tell Cook to place you in irons.'  Yes, that was it."  She blinked her eyes in apparent consternation.  "What does it mean?"

Emily's sunny smile never wavered.  "I suppose it means she'd like me to place you in irons," she responded.  "Half a mo' while I finish what I'm doing."

Kelly continued blinking, but now her consternation was more-or-less real.  This was not going as expected.  Emily should be wide-eyed and flustered, possibly in full-blown headless chicken mode, but the smiling Brit wasn't even fazed.  Her slicing and dicing hadn't missed a beat.  Also...  "Uh... irons?"

Emily put down the knife, transferred the pile of green whatever-it-was to a bowl, covered it with a kitchen towel, and smiled.  "Stainless steel, actually," she said brightly, "with golden padlocks, of course."

"Of course," Kelly nodded vacantly, then her eyes widened.  "Wait-what-huh?"

Meanwhile, Emily strolled to a small closet, pulled a small keyring from her pocket, unlocked the door and pulled it open, and reached inside with both hands.  Metallic clinking sounded from within... then her hands reemerged clutching a set of four steel cuffs—manacles, shackles, fetters, whatever—all interconnected by tinkling, clattering lengths of medium-weight steel chain!  "This won't take long," Emily said as she lugged the clinking hardware towards Kelly.

"Wait-what?-wait!"  Kelly backpedaled as Emily approached, but didn't make it very far.

"Hold still," Emily giggled.

"Can we talk about this?" Kelly whined as, with deft competence, Emily closed a thick, wide, but only semi-heavy cuff around Kelly's left wrist, then secured it with a small, gold-plated padlock that slid into a close-fitting slot in the wall of the cuff.  "Emily!"  Kelly complained, then watched as her right wrist received similar treatment.  "Hey!"  She tugged on her new bracelets and their connecting chain as Emily knelt and—"Hey!-no!-Emily!—snapped similar cuffs around her ankles.

Kelly was now wearing a full set of what she'd always thought of as "slave chains" or "serving chains" only without what she thought was the usual connected collar.  Her wrists were less than a foot apart, her ankles more like eighteen inches, and a vertical chain connected the hobble- and wrist-chains.  She'd be able to walk "normally," but only if she kept her hands at waist level.  To reach higher, she'd have to stand with her feet together, and even then her fingertips would only just clear the level of her shoulders.

Also, Kelly found the contrast between the flush-mounted, gold faces of the padlocks and the lightly brushed but still chrome-bright steel of the cuffs to be aesthetically pleasing.  Classy, she thought as she turned her wrists and gazed at the gleaming metal.  The two-tone aspect was quite attractive; however... they were chains!  And they were on her!  Kelly tugged on the wrist-cuffs, again, then focused her dismay on the smiling cook.  "Emily!" she whined.

"Silly Goose," Emily giggled, then reached out, gently cupped Kelly's chin, and gazed into her worried green eyes.  "Don't even try and pretend you don't want to participate in our employers' occasional bouts of slightly pervy monkeyshines."

Kelly blushed.  "Uh, yeah, but..."  She rattled her chains, for emphasis.  "I can't work like this.  How am I gonna finish the high dusting in the library?  If I even try climbing the ladder and reaching out with the duster, I'll fall and break my... something."

"Then put it off 'til tomorrow," Emily purred, still smiling.  She released Kelly's chin.  "That assumes, of course, that Mistress decides you only merit one day of punishment."

"Very funny," Kelly huffed, still blushing.  "I'm gonna tell OSHA.  This has got to be against some set of domestic workplace regulations, or something."

Emily frowned.  "OSHA?"  Then, her smile returned.  "Ah, yes.  Back home we call them the Health and Safety Executive, H-S-E for short."

"This is mean," Kelly pouted.

"I'm sure you did something to deserve it," Emily giggled, leaned close, planted a kiss on Kelly's lips, then returned to the kitchen counter.  "Back to work," she ordered.  "And in future, do try not to blot your copybook.  Anyway, I have to resume preparing lunch and dinner."

Kelly gave her wrist-cuffs a final, incredulous tug, then turned and clinked, clattered, and shuffled her way from the kitchen.  Her mobility wasn't that impaired by her new metallic accessories; however, sprinting from job to job (or anywhere else) was now firmly out of the question.  The chains and cuffs were heavy, but not that heavy, although Kelly realized she might feel differently by the end of the day.  That said, she was okay... for now.

One thing's for sure, Kelly thought, if I wasn't a player in the York Castle Games after what happened yesterday... I am now!

The rest of Kelly's chain-encumbered workday passed... uneventfully.

On her own authority—which she was free to do even when she hadn't been "placed in irons" on spurious charges—Kelly rearranged the maid's work schedule so she'd be doing the high-dusting tomorrow and the low-dusting today.  A foolproof plan, assuming Wendy intended to limit her unmerited punishment to a single day.

Both Mistress Alice and Mistress Wendy were quite aware of her condition, and Kelly had brief encounters with both sisters as she went about her remaining tasks.  Neither of her employers gloated or mocked her semi-captivity.  Granted, the sisters' initial encounters with their clinking, clanking maid were met with brief smiles (and blushes on Kelly's part), but there were no coy or catty comments.  That would have been below the station of a super-rich mature hottie.  To the "suffering" maid it was humiliating.  Okay, it was hilarious and exactly what Kelly expected would happen.

And speaking of expectations, Kelly remained surprised that Emily had been totally unfazed and totally ready to follow Wendy's nefarious instructions to clamp her in irons.  Obviously, Cook played some role in the York sisters' games, but the exact nature of that role remained unclear... other than as keeper of the key to the closet storing the hardware required to make the maid's workday totally miserable—or at least pretend totally miserable.  Does Emily ever allow herself to be a bound and gagged prisoner? Kelly wondered, or to be clamped in irons, or strapped to her bed?  Whatever Emily's role, Kelly had at least established that Cook's position trumped that of the lowly live-in maid.

Also, Kelly asked herself more than once before bedtime, why the hell did I just stand there and let it happen?  Why did I let Emily do this to me?  Why didn't I punch her in the face?  Of course, Kelly knew she wouldn't punch Emily's face under any conceivable circumstances.  The always smiling face in question was just too damn cute, but the question remained: Why?  Kelly had no immediate answer.

All good things come to an end... as do semi-depraved, semi-despicable, semi-humiliating, and semi-kinky fun things.  All too soon, meaning not soon enough—after cleanup of the evening meal and just before bed, to be precise—Emily produced her keyring, unlocked Kelly's "irons", and returned them to the small closet in the kitchen.  Being too busy rubbing her "cruelly chaffed" wrists, which were a tiny bit red but otherwise unharmed, it belatedly occurred to the newly released prisoner that she wanted a good look inside that closet!

"Hey, wait!" Kelly gasped as she shuffled forward (forgetting that her "cruelly chaffed" ankles were no longer hobbled.  Too late!  "What else is in there?" she demanded as Emily turned the key in the closed door's substantial deadbolt lock.

"Nosy Goose," Emily giggled as she pocketed the keyring.  "I'm sure that eventually you'll become familiar with each and every item waiting within."  She rapped her knuckles on the locked door for emphasis.  "But only under Mistress' explicit orders."

"Which one?" Kelly pouted, "Mistress or Mistress?"

"Mistress and Mistress," Emily answered, her lips curled in a coy, mega-cute, and very irritating smile.

"Shrivel up and die," Kelly decreed.

It didn't happen.  Instead, Emily giggled and pointed to the kitchen door that led to the back stairs and up to the servant's level.  "To bed!  And feel free to use the sauna before retiring."

"Shrivel up, die, and blow away!" Kelly reiterated (and amplified) then dragged her sulking self from the kitchen.

"Good night to you too, Kelly!" Emily giggled as the kitchen door swung closed.  Kelly was a little tired and sore from lugging the half-ton or so of Cruel Irons around with her all day, so decided Emily's suggestion was a good one.  She made her way to the staff bathroom and turned on the sauna, then went to her bedroom, undressed, reached for her robe, and paused.  Screw it! she decided, and stomped (padded) back down the hall to the bathroom wearing nothing but her birthday suit.

The bathroom in question, which she shared with Emily the Cruel, was smaller than either of the baths attached to the York sisters' bedrooms or the additional baths attached to the generous guest suites elsewhere in the mansion, but it was more than adequate, one might say even somewhat luxurious.  She brushed her teeth, scrubbed her face, then took a quick rinse in the generous shower alcove.  By this time the sauna wasn't quite up to proper temperature, but Kelly decided it was close enough.  She entered the cedar-lined space, filled the wooden bucket within and ladled water on one of the upper-tier seats, then settled her back against the sloping backrest, closed her eyes, and sighed.

The heat was glorious!  The Servant's Sauna was much smaller that the main sauna off the gym down below, but plenty big for Kelly and Emily.  Actually, Kelly realized, it might hold up to eight cozy friends, but half of them would have to be squeeze together on the "cold" seats on the lower tier.

The heat continued feeling glorious... and Kelly's body began sweating in response... then began really sweating in response.  Glorious!

Suddenly, she heard the sound of the shower running through the thick, insulated and cedar-lined sauna door.  The water stopped, there was a brief pause... then the door opened, admitting a blast of cold air and a very naked and very wet Emily.

"My, how delightfully toasty!" Emily giggled.

Kelly gave the smiling Brit the evil eye.  "That is the general idea," she drawled, "and shut up.  I'm not talking to you."

"Oh, very well," Emily responded, still smiling.  "I quite understand and I won't say a word.  It was very cruel of Mistress to require me to place you in irons and you have every right to be resentful and upset.  Although, one might expect some degree of understanding.  As Mistress' loyal and faithful servant I have little choice but to obey her every order, no matter how callous or inhumane it might be.  Also... pouting doesn't become you."

"Ya know," Kelly muttered, "for somebody who's not saying a word, you sure talk a lot."

"Silly Goose," Emily giggled.

Kelly watched as Emily wet down the opposite upper-tier seat, then climbed up and settled against the backrest.

The dripping wet Brit was now more or less Kelly's mirror image.  They both had pixie-cuts and were what any objective observer would call feminine, physically fit, and having fair complexions; however, that same observer might characterize Emily as slightly more svelte, but not by much.  The main differences between the two basking beauties were Kelly's red hair and concomitant peach-pink skin, Emily's blond hair and marginal tan, and Kelly's slightly more generous breasts.  Kelly's boobs were somewhat perky, but Emily's were undeniably perky.  The comely Brit wasn't flat-chested, by any means, but while they both may have been towards the back of the line when sweater-puppy volumes were handed out, Emily had been behind Kelly.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Emily asked, "toiling in chains for half a day?"

"Three-quarters of a day, actually," Kelly drawled, "and I've never suffered a more punishing, uh, punishment in my entire life."

"You poor thing," Emily giggled.  "How horrid!"  She jumped off her seat and used the bucket and ladle to wet the entire bench below Kelly.  "Down you come," she ordered, patting the damp cedar.  "On your belly."

"Why?" Kelly demanded.

"I'm going to give you a massage, of course," Emily giggled, then patted the wood, again.  "It'll be good for you."

"Well," Kelly groused, "you do owe me."  She carefully climbed down and reclined on the bench, face down, rested her head on her crossed arms... then sighed in blissful content as Emily's hands began kneading her shoulders and gliding down her back.

Apparently, not only was Emily a bona fide master chef, she was also an expert masseuse.  Her hands were magic!  In less than a minute Kelly was totally relaxed... and trying her best not to fall asleep.   It occurred to her that she might be able to squeeze a little gossip out of Emily (so to speak), gossip about The York Castle Games... like exactly what sort of restraint hardware went with the brackets mounted on the underside of Bess' bed—which at the moment was Kelly's bed—but...  All of that could just wait.  Everything could...  Just.  Wait.

Only three days later Kelly found herself climbing out of a cab in front of Lin Reed's studio, gallery, and residence, a nondescript red brick building on the Lower East Side, fulfilling her promise to pay the gorgeously dangerous Hojōjutsu/Kinbaku mistress a visit.

All the panes of all the windows were silver, reflective glass, but otherwise the edifice matched the other structures in the neighborhood, all of which were repurposed and gentrified tenements.  She mounted the front steps, noting the tasteful modern sign beside the front door, then entered what she assumed would be the lobby.  Instead, Kelly found herself in a thirty-by-thirty foot cube of mirrored glass broken only by the door behind her, a second door of mirrored glass directly in front, and recessed lighting in the mirrored ceiling.  Even the floor tiles underfoot were more-or-less reflective.  There was no furniture, hanging art, or additional signage.

Kelly took the occasion to gaze at her reflection(s) and straighten her royal-blue sundress, flattening the minor creases caused by the cab ride, and checked her appearance in the mirrored... everything.  Finding nothing to fault, she crossed the lobby/hall-of-mirrors and reached for the door's "L"-shaped handle—but just then the door opened and Lin appeared.

"Welcome, Kelly," Lin said with a warm smile, taking Kelly's outstretched hand and giving it a firm squeeze, "and don't worry, you look beautiful."

Kelly blushed and allowed herself to be led across the threshold.  Obviously, Lin had been watching her primp through the door's one-way glass.  "Why the mirrors?" she asked.

"The featureless light box encourages visitors to clear their minds before entering the gallery," Lin explained.  The smiling artist/gallery owner was wearing a very hot (in Kelly's humble opinion) little-black-dress that really showcased her bare arms, narrow waist, and legs up to her mid-thighs.  Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a ponytail with that flip at the end that Kelly liked so much.

"Uh... I guess it works," Kelly sighed.  She skidded to a halt and found herself staring at the space beyond—or rather, at the exhibits in the space beyond.

Immediately to Kelly's left a chair and some rope stood under a spotlight.  Other than the fact that the chair appeared to be made of gunmetal-gray steel, it was a perfectly normal straight-back chair with a solid seat, just like countless such chairs Kelly had encountered in the course of her waitress career.  As for the rope, it was bronze, or maybe rust-red steel... oxidized metal of some kind.  In fact, one might say it was thick, three-strand, braided wire with a texture that made it resemble rope; however, it was neither coiled and sitting on the chair's seat nor was it draped over the back.  In point of fact, it was binding an invisible and/or imaginary woman!

"Wow," Kelly gasped.

Lin stood at Kelly's side and watched her examine the exhibit. 

And just to be clear, the chair-bound damsel-who-wasn't-there was unquestionably a damsel.  Bronze rope bound and outlined her not-there-boobs, encircled her narrow not-there-waist, and a crotch-rope cleaved her not-there-pussy!  Yep, Kelly reassured herself, she's a she! 

The next exhibit on the right was also an invisible damsel bound with metal rope, and she was in a very stringent hogtie, what Kelly considered to be a twelve-alarm hogtie!  The unfortunate damsel's wrists were pulled past her crossed and bound ankles, her mouth was cleave-gagged by several strands of metal rope, and additional strands caged her head and were plaited with her long, braided, pretend hair and tied back to her pretend big toes and feet.  She was balanced on her hypothetical stomach with her rope-harnessed breasts and nonexistent frog-tied legs in midair.  Yes, she was in one hell of a fix and would have to be in agony... if she was there.  Lucky for her she isn't there, Kelly thought.

The third exhibit carried forward the theme of rust-red rope and absent damsels-in-distress.  This time the unfortunate and nonexistent maiden was lying on her back atop a steel table with her arms at her sides and bound by yard upon yard of rope from head to toe (including her head and toes) as well as being lashed to the table.  Her bonds were so numerous and well-placed (as well as symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing) that she'd be able to do little more than wiggle... if she was there... which she wasn't.

"Uh..." Kelly tore her gaze from the table-bound invisible maiden and focused on Lin.  "How do you do that?" she gasped.

Lin smiled and gestured to a set of double doors in the rear of the gallery.  "I'll show you," she promised.

There were other exhibits.  "Uh, we can come back, right?" Kelly asked.

"Of course," Lin chuckled, took Kelly's hand, and led her towards the doors.

The double-doors led to a hallway.  Directly ahead was a staircase and to the right a glass partition wall provided a view of a several desks, worktables, filing cabinets, computers, printers, etc.  In short, it was a well-equipped, modern office.  To their left was a series of doors in an otherwise blank wall.  First in line was a set of double doors, like the doors behind them from the gallery.  Lin opened one of the doors and led Kelly into the space beyond.

Kelly found herself in a very large... artist's studio?  ...laboratory?  ...metalworking shop?  ...all of the above?  Everything was neat, clean, and modern, including the shelves lining two of the three walls and several worktables and office-style chairs.  There was a welding rig of some sort, or at least Kelly thought it was a welding rig, as well as a rack with dozens of different sized clamps and a second rack supporting large spools of heavy wire.  It appeared to be the same wire as the metal "rope" binding the invisible damsels out in the studio, but was steel-gray rather than rust-red.  There was also a long table with a desktop computer and a bank of screens.  All of that Kelly absorbed in a glance; however, what was in the very center of the room was more difficult to understand.

The centerpiece was a round pedestal about two feet in height and three feet in diameter.  A hefty metal arm of some sort projected from a horizontal slot around the entire circumference of the pedestal and supported the base of a vertical steel pole.  The top of that same pole was supported by a second metal arm projecting from a motor mounted in the ceiling.  Kelly surmised the arms rotated in concert completely around the pedestal and took the pole with them.

"The camera travels up and down the pole as the armatures turn," Lin said, "capturing whatever is on the pedestal."

Kelly frowned.  "Camera?"

Lin pointed to a small steel cylinder near the bottom of the pole.  Kelly had taken it for some sort of bracket or support clamp.  "It's more-or-less a high end smartphone camera," Lin explained, "very compact, lightweight, and state-of-the-art."

Kelly nodded.  "So... you use it for what?  I mean, you said it captures stuff on the pedestal, but... what stuff?"

"Well," Lin purred, smiling at Kelly, "stuff like one of my model or artist friends..."  Her smile broadened.  "Or possibly a volunteer."

Kelly still didn't understand.  "Volunteer?" she asked, staring at the empty pedestal.  "Volunteer for what?"

"I'll explain my process," Lin said, then walked to a set of shelves and took down a large storage tub made of translucent plastic.

Kelly followed, looked inside the tub and noted several neat bundles of nylon rope.  All were of the three-strand-twist variety, as opposed to the bundled-fibers-in-a-braided-sheath kind, and each strand was a different neon-bright color, specifically: lime green, hot pink, and lemon yellow.

"The model wears a blue body-suit," Lin explained, "I bind her with the rope, the camera system scans her bound body, and an image processing program tracks the various colors and generates a detailed 3-D computer model.  I use the resulting measurements for reference as I bend wire and sculpt the composition, holding things together with spot welds and a special epoxy.  Once satisfied, I powder-coat everything and call it my final sculpture."

Kelly nodded, staring at the coils of spectacularly garish rope.  "Volunteer," she whispered under her breath.

"Thank you, Kelly," Lin said.  "I was hoping you would."

Kelly's eyes popped wide.  "Wait!-what?-no!  I mean..."  She swallowed nervously and locked eyes with Lin.  "It was a question."

Lin continued smiling.  "It didn't sound like a question," she purred.  "I have a tableau in mind and would really appreciate your help.  Please?"

"Tableau?" Kelly whispered.  Her heart was hammering, but she wasn't sure if it was from apprehension or something else, like... excitement?

"Now that was a question," Lin chuckled, opened a second, much smaller storage tub, and pulled out a bundle of royal-blue spandex.  She gestured to a black curtain between a pair of shelves across the room.  "You can change in there while I get things ready."

Kelly took the blue bundle, turned and took a step towards the curtain, then immediately turned back to face Lin.  "What?-no!  I mean... change?"

"The image processing software finds it much easier to subtract the contours of a uniformly monochromatic object.  Flesh tones and hair colors sometimes confuse the program."  Her smile took a teasing turn.  "I suppose you could dip yourself in blue latex, but I've found my suits to be perfectly adequate."

"Oh," Kelly muttered.  "That makes sense.  I mean... what?"

"Adorable," Lin chuckled, then stepped forward, lifted Kelly's chin, and planted a kiss on the wide-eyed redhead's lips.  "You trust me, don't you, Kelly?"

"Kelly nodded.  "Yeah, sure, but... volunteer?"

"I can't work without a model," Lin said quietly, "and you're perfect for my needs.  Please?  I know you'll find the experience to be very interesting."

"Interesting," Kelly whispered, then, her green eyes locked with Lin's brown, beautiful, almond-shaped eyes.  "Uh... okay... I guess.  I will get to see the rest of the gallery at some point, right?"

Lin chuckled and kissed Kelly's lips, again.  "I promise."  She gestured to the curtain, again.  "Let me know if you need help donning the suit.  No underwear.  The software doesn't like panty- or bra-lines either."

"Who does?" Kelly said in a dazed manner, then turned and walked towards the curtain.  It's good to know I'm perfect for her needs, she thought.

"Adorable," Lin chuckled.

Kelly blushed as she approached the curtain.  Why does everybody call me that?  It's... embarrassing.

Behind the curtain was a changing room with a padded bench, a row of hooks, a couple of hangers for clothing, and a full-length mirror.  Lin had specified nudity under the "body-suit", so Kelly stripped to the skin and hung her sundress, bra, and panties from the hangers, then neatly arranged her high-heeled pumps beside the bench.  Only then did she let the bright blue spandex bundle fall open so she could examine it, her costume-to-be as Lin's "volunteer."

It was, as Lin had said it would be, a body-suit, more-or-less a long-sleeve leotard with attached feet, gloves, and hood.  Kelly remembered hearing such things referred to as... Zamboni Suits?  No, that isn't right.  Zentai Suits?  I think that's it.  Whatever the accepted designation, this particular specimen had a zipper running up its back.  However, there was a problem: the damn thing was downright tiny.

Kelly frowned.  "Lin?" she called out.

"Yes, dear?" Lin shouted back from the other side of the curtain.

"I think this one is too small!"

"It stretches, "Lin advised, "and its supposed to be tight!  Give it a try!  And pull as hard as you need to.  The fabric is super strong."

Kelly favored the blue garment in her hands with a dubious expression.  "Whatever."  She heaved a sigh, sat on the bench, and set to work.

The suit's feet had separate spaces for her big toes, like Japanese socks.  Also, the gloves were actually mittens.  Weird, Kelly thought as she slid her left foot down the leg and tugged and squirmed her foot into the foot and pulled the suit up and past her left ankle, then all the way to her knee.  She did the same with her right foot, then continued until the suit was up to her waist.  Truth be told, donning the suit was no more difficult than donning a hefty pair of pantyhose or tights, at least so far.  And the garment did stretch.  It stretched a lot.  Kelly worked her left hand, arm, and shoulder into the suit.  This was made possible by the open zipper running down the back, of course.  Her right hand, arm and shoulder were more difficult, thanks to the slightly slippery nature of the fabric, but she finally managed to wiggle and stretch her way into most of the rest of the suit.  She knew zipping up the zipper on her own was a lost cause, as was stretching the suit's attached hood over her head.  She'd have to rely on Lin to complete the, uh, enclosure.

Kelly stretched her legs, twisted her torso, flexed her arms and smoothed her encased hands over her body and the stretched spandex.  Tight?  Yes.  Restrictive?  Surprisingly... not really.  The suit had seams, of course, but they were nearly invisible.  Kelly gazed at herself in the dressing room mirror.  It really does look like I've been dipped in blue latex, Kelly mused.  The lack of fingers and toes, not counting her thumbs and big toes, was a little odd, and she still didn't know how she was going to look in the hood.  It had eye holes, but no other openings.

By the way...  Camel toe and pokies?  You betcha!

She turned and examined the open zipper in the mirror.  It ran from her upper butt-crack to her neck, and the fob was too small for her to grip with her spandex-mitten-covered fingers.  She really was going to need Lin's help.  With a final look in the mirror she opened the curtain and padded back into the studio.

Lin had been busy.  A clear, vertical, cylindrical column about six-inches in diameter was now clamped between the raised platform and the motor assembly overhead, and Kelly could tell it wouldn't interfere with the rotating armatures and the steel pole supporting the camera.  Also, a wheeled cart near the pedestal held several dozen coils of the neon, tri-color rope of various lengths.

Kelly continued padding forward.  "Is that glass?" she asked, pointing at the clear column with her right hand (meaning her right flipper).

"Acrylic," Lin answered.  "The camera will ignore it."  She was smiling and examining Kelly's blue body.  "I told you it would fit."

"Yeah, it fits," Kelly agreed.  She turned her back.  "But I need help with the zipper and hood."

"Of course," Lin purred, "but first..."

Kelly watched as Lin picked up a three-inch roll of off-white medical tape from the cart and used a pair of bandage scissors to sever a six or seven inch strip.  Still smiling, she held the strip between her hands.

"Lips together," Lin ordered with a grin.

Kelly's eyes widened.  "Huh?"  Lin's intentions were obvious, of course, but also unexpected.  "Why?"

"I need to protect your lips," Lin explained.

"From what?" Kelly demanded.

"You'll see," Lin chuckled, then pressed the stretched strip of tape home and smoothed it against Kelly's lower face.

"Mrrrf?" Kelly asked.

"Trust me," Lin purred.  "Now, let's see about that hood.  This will be much easier than usual, thanks to your pixie-cut."

I am such an easy mark, Kelly thought as Lin tugged the hood over her now tape-gagged head, but I did agree to trust her.  The world disappeared behind a blue spandex screen... then reappeared as the hood's eye-holes slid into place and were properly aligned with careful adjustments by Lin's strong, nimble fingers.  It took more tugging and adjustment, but soon Kelly's entire head was as tightly and uniformly encased in blue as the rest of her body.  Kelly was relieved to find she could easily breathe through the blue fabric.  Neither nostril holes nor panicked clawing at the skintight cranial covering were required.

Lin zipped up the zipper and Kelly's transformation into an anonymous, mute, royal-blue "gynoid" with blinking green eyes was complete.

"Perfect!" Lin exclaimed, then led Kelly to the pedestal and helped her step up.  "Back against the post, please."

Kelly complied, then watched as Lin selected a coil of rope from the cart, released its retaining hitch, doubled the rope and found its center, formed a loop, then stepped behind and out of Kelly's sight.

"Hands behind the post," Lin ordered.

Once again, Kelly complied, but involuntarily flinched when Lin, with quick competence, began binding her crossed wrists.

Again, Kelly's heart was thumping like crazy, if it had ever stopped.  She stared tight ahead as loop after loop of rope tightened... were cinched several times... and a knot was tied.

This is nuts! Kelly thought as Lin stepped back into view, selected a second, much larger coil of multi-colored rope from the cart, and prepared it for use.  She was smiling at Kelly the entire time, and Kelly couldn't help but tug on her wrist bonds.  She could tell Lin had done her usual competent job.  Bound as she was, her fingers weren't up to the task of touching the key knot, much less untying the damn thing, and her fingers' spandex-flipper status only made the already impossible task even harder.  Nuts!

"This is going to take a while," Lin purred, then once again stepped behind and out of Kelly's sight.

As rope tightened around Kelly's elbows and the acrylic post, Kelly remembered that those had been Lin's exact words when she started shrimp-tying Mistress Wendy in the yoga studio.  What's she gonna do to me? the blue prisoner wondered.  Also, a pesky, low-level thrill had set up shop between Kelly's legs.  That's right, her pussy had started purring.

Nuts, weird, bizarre, strange, however Kelly wanted to describe what was happening—what she had acquiesced in letting happen—it was too late to back out now, that was for sure.  She was on the pedestal with her back against the post and Lin was making sure she was going to stay there!