by Van © 2020
		Chapter 3

Effie considered Tasha's advice that she should take a nice nap.

'Take a nice nap?'  Not frickin' likely!  Effie tugged on her wrist cuffs, then squirmed and fought all of her restraints, just for added emphasis.  The only result was a little leather-on-leather creaking.  Everything held.  Bummer.

So, here she was:

• Abducted and spirited away to an undisclosed location tentatively labeled "The Ranch."
• Naked.
• Flat on her back and strapped to a gynecological examining table.
• Her tongue freshly pierced and violated with a dumbbell-post.
• Her nipples freshly pierced and violated with rings!
• The rest of her not pierced and/or violated... yet.
• Tape-gagged (with stuffing).
• Head clamped and strapped to the table and completely immobilized.
  
• A cloth draped over her face and the lights turned off.

And oh-by-the-way, an obedience collar was locked around her neck, purportedly ready to zap her if she tried to escape through any doors or windows.  She'd already confirmed that it zapped her if she tried to yell... or even engage in "normal" gagged conversation.

And she wasn't alone.  Lady Jo Gladburn was along for the ride!  More precisely, as Lady Jo had been abducted six months earlier and Effie had stumbled into this trap trying to find out what happened to her, Effie was along for Lady Jo's ride.  At the moment Her ladyship was elsewhere on the premises, supposedly getting her exercise.  Also, supposedly there was a "herd" of other "ponies," also elsewhere on the premises.  Effie assumed she'd meet them sooner or later... and then... would help them escape as well, along with Lady Jo and herself.

And then, Kyler Drāgon would receive the justice she so richly deserved and Effie would bask in world acclaim, give interviews on all the big talk shows, write a bestselling book, and rake in the dough.  Piece of cake.  All I have to do is escape.

In any case... Effie certainly wasn't going to take a nap.  That was for damn sure.  Maybe she'd close her eyes, relax, and further organize her thoughts, but take a nap?  Hah!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ z z z z z z z ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Mrrrf?"  Effie opened her eyes and blinked.  The lights were back on and someone had whisked the jade-green cloth off her gagged face.

Not to Effie's surprise, the someone in question was Tasha, the athletic, attractive, tongue and nipple piercing brunette handler with the pixie cut.  She was still wearing the same black riding boots, gray riding pants, and cadet-blue tank-top.  There was no sign of The Dragon Lady, in or out of her riding costume.

Smiling brightly, Tasha leaned close.  "Hey there, Sleepy Eyes," she purred.

Bite me! Effie silently fumed, staring laser beams at her grinning handler.  The tall, muscular Tasha didn't oblige by bursting into flames, but she did begin unbuckling Effie's many restraints.  That was good.  Probably.

"I've reset your collar from 'hush-mode' to 'inside-voice-mode,'" Tasha announced as she worked her way around the table, releasing buckle after buckle.  "Be a good little pony and your collar will leave you alone.  You should still avoid doors and windows, of course, but you'll be able to converse with your fellow ponies."  Her smile broadened.  "When you aren't gagged, of course."

Of course... asshole, Effie fumed.  She was angry with herself that she hadn't noticed the collar was "off" when she woke up and mewled through her gag.  I need to up my game if we're going to escape, she realized, and we are going to escape... just not right now.

Meanwhile, with the exception of Effie's padded head-vice and the forehead strap, Tasha had finished releasing all the restraints.  She eased Effie's feet and legs from the table's stirrups and troughs, leaving her legs and bare feet dangling off the end of the table.  Next, she released the clamps locking the stirrup-trough assemblies in place and folded them to either side and under the table and out of the way.  She then raised a padded section of table under Effie's legs and locked it in place.  Finally, she lowered the upper section of the table.  The head-vice was still attached, of course, so Effie's gagged head went along for the ride.  The former table/lounge-chair was now just a full-length, lightly padded, horizontal table (with a head-vice) with Effie lying flat on her back.

Tasha smiled down at Effie.  "I know what you're thinking," she purred.

As soon as you release this damn head-clamp I'm going to kick your butt? Effie glowered.

"As soon as I release your head you're going to scamper away," Tasha continued.

Close enough!

"Remember."  Tasha pulled her smartphone from her pocket and waved it for Effie's benefit.  "Naughty ponies who try to escape get zapped for their trouble."

There is that, Effie sullenly agreed.  This damn collar is putting a serious damper on my courageous-unflappable-reporter routine.

Tasha pocketed her phone, then stepped to the head of the table and released the strap across Effie's forehead... loosened padded clamps of the head-vice... then folded that assembly back and down.  As far as Effie could tell, like the stirrup-trough assemblies, it also snapped in place under the table and out of the way.

"Roll onto your tummy and rest your head on your arms," Tasha ordered.

Yeah, sure, why not? Effie fumed as she rolled over and complied.  Also, bite me!  Effie figured she might as well continue being an "obedient pony."  With a pony-zapping-collar locked around her neck, she had no choice—and she was getting really tired of reality rubbing it in her face.

Effie was now lying on her stomach and resting the right side of her gagged face on her folded arms, as instructed.  And she was still naked, of course (not counting her pony-collar and tape-gag).  Her nipples had complained, briefly, as her boobs settled into the padding and flattened out, but it had been only a barely noticeable twinge.  Maybe that ointment she smeared on my nipples has a numbing agent, Effie posited.

Meanwhile, Tasha had strolled to one of the steel cabinets and returned with a folded towel and a plastic pump-bottle full of some sort of white goop.  She dispensed a dollop onto her hands, rubbed them together, and proceeded to give Effie a long, deep, full body massage from shoulders to toes, rolling Effie's limp body and manipulating her limbs as required to expedite the process... and her hands were magic... and the lotion (the stuff in the bottle) smelled like... cedar and lavender?

Effie decided to continue putting her escape on hold.  Why?

1. Tasha's aforementioned magic hands.  Also...
2. The massage felt goooood, just what her sore body needed after being abducted, tied up, transported, etc., etc.
3. Granted, her masseuse was a tongue-and-nipple-piercing glamorous gorilla, but you take what you can get, right?
   

Effie resolved to give Tasha about an hour before resuming her Righteous Resistance, but no more!  One hour!  Not one second more!

Tasha was very thorough... kneading and massaging Effie entire body from head to toe, front and back... not counting her collared neck, tape-gagged mouth, or band-aid-covered tits.  And it was what Effie believed was called a Deep Muscle Massage.  Obviously, in addition to her body-piercing and pony-handling expertise, Tasha was a trained masseuse.

And then... it was over... something Effie only realized when Tasha rolled her over onto her boobs and tummy, produced a length of black cord from somewhere, pulled her arms behind her back, and tied her wrists together with her hands palm-to-palm!  Unfortunately, the binding was more-or-less over before Effie realized something other than another round of back massage was happening.  Her belated resistance was entirely futile.

"Mrrr!" Effie complained as Tasha added tight, cinched loops of cord around her hands and thumbs and tied the final knots.

"Hush, pony," Tasha chuckled, then used a second length of cord to tie Effie's elbows together!  She then grabbed Effie and "helped" her hop off the table.

Effie rolled her shoulders and tested her new bonds, staring daggers at Tasha as the grinning handler used the towel to clean her hands.  The cords held.  Her elbows weren't happy, but somewhat to her surprise, she wasn't in actual pain... at the moment.

"Once I get to know you better," Tasha stated, "and you get more of a chance to learn you have zero control over anything that happens around here, it won't be necessary to tie you up for a simple change of venue."  She winked and her smile took a coy twist.  "Unless I'm in a kinky mood, of course."

Asshole! Effie fumed.

Tasha, stepped close, took a firm grip on Effie's ponytail, and led her from the... Piercing Chamber?  Effie decided not to dignify the space with an official designation.  Also, she noted for the record that being led around by the hair was just as humiliating as being led around at the end of a leash... not that she'd ever been led around at the end of a leash... yet.  Anyway...  Ponytail clutching is humiliating.  Who knew?

The door of the chamber-unworthy-of-a-name led to a hallway with the same exposed framing and horizontal barn-board paneling.  Light shone down from periodic rustic fixtures and modern light-tunnels.  Both sides of the corridor were punctuated by two different kinds of doors, all hefty and all closed.  They were:

1. Normal single-panel doors with conventional round doorknobs and strap hinges.
2. Two-panel Dutch doors with cipher-locks, strap hinges, and eye-level covered view-ports in the upper panels.

The two-part doors strongly reminded Effie of horse stalls.  More accurately, they reminded her of horse stalls in the high-security section of an equine prison.  Weird.  Of course, given all this talk about "ponies," she supposed high-security stalls weren't all that unexpected.

They passed a single-panel door with a neatly painted sign that read Tack Room One... followed by a door with the sign Tack Room Two.  They continued down the hallway to yet another single-panel door; however, like the horse-prison-stall doors but unlike the other single-panel doors, this one had a cipher-lock and a covered view-port.

Effie watched closely (in a casual, totally disinterested sort of way), as Tasha entered a five digit code in the lock: 2-7-8-6-7.  (Not that Effie instantly memorized it or anything.)  And then, Tasha opened the door.

The space beyond was—Effie blinked in mild surprise—a cross between a large and spartan screened porch, a covered zoo cage, and a gazebo.  The floor was smooth concrete, like all of the other floors Effie's bare feet had encountered at The Ranch so far.  The floor-plan was in the shape of an elongated capital "D" with two straight walls projecting from the main building and bridged by a semi-circular arc.  A hefty, 10-12 inch diameter, vertical wooden post in the center of the space anchored the rafters and helped support the roof.  All the walls were open, meaning were composed of taut, stretched, floor-to-ceiling panels of window screen.  However, in front of the screens (on Effie's side) there were also hefty, vertical iron bars, each roughly an inch in diameter and set about six inches apart.  The screen panels would keep flies and mosquitoes out.  The bars would keep human-size occupants in.  On the spot, Effie decided to christen the space The Gazebo Cage.

Still clutching Effie's ponytail, Tasha led her naked, bound, and gagged prisoner into the cage and towards the central post.  It was then that Effie noticed the long steel chain dangling from a steel ring set in the post up near the rafters and dangling down to pool on the floor.  Tasha stooped, retrieved the terminal link, and used a curiously shaped padlock with a hasp at both ends to secure the chain to the front ring of Effie's collar.

"Good pony," Tasha purred, planted a kiss on Effie's forehead, then spun on her booted heels, strolled back through the Gazebo Cage door, and closed it behind her.  Effie heard the lock engage with an audible click.

Naked, bound, gagged, and chained by her pony-collar, Effie stared at the closed portal.  So... I'm to wait here?

Alone again.

Effie rolled her shoulders and stretched her collared neck (which caused her new chain to rattle quietly).  The concrete floor was bare, other than a little sand and grit she could feel under her bare feet.  No mattress? she mentally complained.  No cushion?  Not even a pile of straw? Aren't ponies supposed to get straw?  Those are the rules, right?

Effie estimated the length of her chain, just for something to do.  It didn't look long enough to reach either the door or the bars, but she figured she might as well give it a try.  As she padded towards the door, the chain rattled and slithered across the concrete, lifted into the air, and let Effie know its full weight.  The chain stopped her four or five feet from the door.  Even if her hands (and elbows) hadn't been tied, the door would be out of reach.  Of course, she might be close enough to balance on one foot and touch the wood with the toes of the other.  That would have the virtue of displaying Effie's balletic grace, but would also be pointless.  She reversed course and padded (and rattled) in the opposite direction.  The curved arc of the bars was just as far out of her hypothetical reach.  Geometry can be a harsh mistress, Effie mused.

Next on Effie's agenda was an assessment of the world beyond the iron bars and screen panels.

It was a warm, sunny day at The Ranch.  A line of massive, purple mountains partially obscured by haze marched across the distant horizon.  A jumble of forested hills were closer, and the immediate area was very rural, farm-like, and surrounded by trees.  A lush, green, mowed lawn stretched right to the edge of the gravel splash-zone surrounding the main building and Effie's Gazebo Cage extension.

Off to Effie's right she noted the building had a row of conventional windows, mostly small and set high in the wall.  Some had iron bars.  Beyond the building and several yards distant she saw part of what was probably a different building, and it was decidedly barn-like.  She also noted a stretch of what was either a hiking trail or bridal path.  It crossed the lawn, turned in front of the gazebo, and gradually disappeared into the treeline.  Oaks, maples, and pine trees.  Maybe.  Effie wasn't sure of the tree species.  She was mostly an urban sort of girl.

So... where the hell am I?  Somewhere in the West?  The mountains were probably part of the Rockies.  They were tall and craggy and she was reasonably sure there was a little snow on their slopes and peaks.  But on which side of the border?  This was important because Effie needed to know who she should expect to burst in at any moment and rescue Lady Jo, the herd, herself, and drag The Dragon Lady and Tasha away in handcuffs.  Would it be the Mounties or the FBI?

There was no way Effie could be sure—after all, she could be in central China for all she knew—but The Dragon Lady was American, so logic suggested "The Ranch" was somewhere in the Western United States.  Effie continued her survey of what she could see beyond the bars... while she waited for the FBI to get their act together.

The lawn and treeline continued, and the left side of the building was similar to the right in that there were more windows, barred and not barred.  And just beyond the corner was a curved section of another trail, similar to the more distant trail or bridal path on the right.

Intending to pad back to the post (dragging her chain with her), sit on the floor, and rest her back and bound arms against the hard wood and get "comfortable," Effie turned her back to the bars and was about to take her first barefoot step... when she heard a quiet, musical tinkling sound, something like a distant set of wind chimes, and at the same time caught a flash of movement from the corner of her right eye.  She turned in that direction and both eyes widened in surprise.  What the hell?

Lady Jo had stepped into view, walking (clomping, actually) at a brisk pace on the curved path!  And Her Ladyship's curious tan-lines were now explained.  She was wearing a tight, black leather one-piece with shoulder-straps, a narrow waist, and a thong-like and very French-cut bottom that exposed her hips.  And the ensemble left her breasts, rings, and jingling bells totally exposed!

Actually, Effie realized, Jo's outfit might or might not be one piece.  It might very well be separate pieces: panties, corset, and support bra.  However, everything was quite obviously part of one system, with straps and buckles linking everything together.  Jo's arms were folded behind her back and strapped in a "U"-shaped binder, which in turn was strapped to the back of the corset and bra sections.

A harness or bridle caged her head and anchored a rubber bit in her mouth.  It had blinders on either side, to limit her peripheral vision, and her sleek brown ponytail swung and swayed behind her leather-caged head as she walked.

Also, Jo was wearing a curious pair of knee-boots that laced up the front.  They seemed to be keeping Jo up on her toes, like a pair of high-heels, only the boots had no heels.  Also, the soles were large and horseshoe-shaped!  Irony, what a concept!

And oh-by-the-way, in addition to her conventional, cranial ponytail Jo had a second ponytail attached to the bottom of her ensemble, projecting from the base of her spine.  It was a literal and artificial ponytail and swung and swayed in perfect rhythm with Jo's upper ponytail (as well as her swinging, swaying, and tinkling tit-bells).  Effie knew the lower tail was fake because she'd seen Her Ladyship 95% naked in what she'd decided not to call the Piercing Chamber, and Jo hadn't had a lower tail then.  Also, everyone knows British Peers of the Realm don't have tails.  They have rumps, but not tails.

Leather reins attached to either side of Jo's bit stretched up to the end of a horizontal steel bar slowly rotating overhead.  Obviously (Effie reasoned), Jo-the-pony was at the mercy of a conventional equine exercise machine, a motor driven, slowly turning horizontal bar spinning atop a vertical post.  Tethered to such a device, the exercising horse (or pony) had no choice but to walk in response to the tug on her bit, which Effie assumed was unpleasant... meaning the tug.  She'd worn a metal medical-clamp-bit-gag back in the Not Piercing Chamber, but not a bridle and bit like whatever was caging Lady Jo's head and cleaving her mouth.

The end of the overhead bar rotated out of Effie's sight... soon  followed by Her Ladyship.  Wow!  This 'pony crap' is... real!  Kyler Drāgon really is running a stable for naked women being forced to role-play as human ponies... like me.

Seconds later, the end of the horizontal cross-beam without an attached pony (human or otherwise) slowly swung into view... then slowly rotated out of view.

More seconds passed... and once again Jo-the-pony clomped into view.

Effie noted that all of Jo's tack was gleaming black leather with brushed steel hardware, and everything fit her like the proverbial glove.  In another minor detail, the panties section of the bottom was split, meaning it parted to reveal Her Ladyship's labia.  And in the rear, it didn't cleave her butt-cheeks with a single thong-like strap, but was also divided and looped around her upper thighs on either side.  Jo's butt was completely exposed and "free."  Finally, part of the end of her lower (fake) ponytail brushed the backs of her thighs as it swayed.

I wonder if it tickles? Effie thought, watching Lady Jo's smooth, tan churning butt and thighs as she stomped out of sight again.  It looks like it might tickle... but she's probably used to it by now.  Effie knew there was an excellent chance she'd eventually find out if the ends of a swinging ponytail did, in fact, tickle the back of one's thighs, and she wasn't looking forward to the prospect.

Mesmerized, Effie watched Jo-the-pony appear and disappear for several cycles... during which she added another detail to her observations:  Her Ladyship was glowing.  In fact, Jo was sweating like a horse.  More irony, Effie sighed.  No, wait, Effie's trained journalist mind objected, horse, pony, and other legitimate equine references applied to humans role-playing as 'ponies' are congruous, not incongruous, so it's not really irony... but it may be ironi-cal.  Sardonic?  Mordacious?  I'll have to think about it.

Having learned all she could learn (or cared to learn) from periodically watching Jo's equine humiliation as she clomped around in a circle.  Effie heaved a gagged sign, dragged her chain back to the post, and executed her plan to get comfortable by sitting on the hard concrete floor and resting her bound arms and back against the hard wood.  She then heaved another sigh.  Effie wasn't comfortable, and it sucked.  Really?  No straw?  That's just... criminal.

Suddenly, Effie heard the sound of the Gazebo Cage door being unlocked and turned to see who was about to enter her luxurious cell-with-a-view (but no straw).

The door swung open and a petite redhead padded into the Gazebo Cage. 

Jana♥Tenbrook

She was completely naked, except for a black leather pony-collar identical to Effie's (and Jo's), and she was tiny and adorable, with a winning smile, flashing green eyes, and ginger locks pulled back in a ginger ponytail.  And the irony of thinking of the naked newcomer as "tiny" and "adorable" wasn't lost on Effie, who had struggled under the burden of the twin stigmas of diminutive stature and excessive cuteness for her entire life; but in the case of the redhead, she had no choice.  The naked ginger was no taller that 5' 2" and was as cute as the proverbial and long-suffering bug.

Effie continued her assessment as the redhead padded forward.  She had the same peculiar but now explained tan-lines she'd first noted on Lady Jo, only in the case of the redhead, they were freckle-lines and not tan-lines.  She—the tiny, adorable redhead in question—was a natural redhead, as confirmed by:

• Ginger hair (including a neatly trimmed ginger pubic bush);
• Fair, pale, peachy-pink skin where the sun didn't shine;
• An abundance of freckles where the sun did shine.

Also, The redhead was physically fit in the same way Jo-the-pony was physically fit, with the same low body fat, defined muscles, sculpted abdomen, and narrow waist.  And like Jo, she had unarguably feminine curves and not exactly generous but unarguably delightful breasts. The nipples of the breasts in question were ringed, by the way, but not belled.  Anyway, the redhead was fit.

Obviously, Effie reasoned, I'm meeting my first member of "the herd."

The redhead was carrying a picnic basket (which Effie's stomach noted with keen interest), and smiling broadly (and cutely).

Right behind the ginger cutie came Tasha-the-handler, still wearing the same black boots, gray riding pants, and cadet-blue tank.  She was carrying what appeared to be a neatly rolled, oversized, thin, yoga-style mat of dense rubber foam in a soothing shade of sage-green.  "Up," she ordered as she approached Effie and her post/backrest.

Effie decided the prospect of receiving a mat to sit on outweighed the humiliation of continuing her craven obedience and rattled to her feet.  (The threat of her pony-collar remained a contributing factor, of course.)  That said, nothing stopped her from glowering in tape-gagged, sullen resentment at her tall, muscular, grinning handler, and she did.

Tasha unfurled and settled the mat on the floor, then spun on her heel and headed back towards the open door.  "Effie, Jana.  Jana, Effie," she called back over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold.  "Play nice," she added with an attractive and infuriating grin, then closed and locked the door.  Click!

Effie heaved a gagged sigh, then turned to the redhead.  Jana.  Her name is Jana.  Ginger Jana.  Jana the ginger.  Got it.

Still smiling her winning smile, Jana set the picnic basket on the floor next to the mat.  "Hi."  She gestured at the mat.  "Want to sit?"

I guess I do, Effie decided, and "gracefully" settled into a comfortable semi-lotus at the end of the mat closest to the post.

Jana also settled into a semi-lotus.  The two naked ponies' knees were about an inch apart, nearly touching.  Jana smiled (perhaps a little shyly).  "I'm not going to be so crass as to say 'welcome to the stables,' but... welcome."

Effie had no choice but to smile (with her eyes).  "Mrrrmf," she answered, then rolled her shoulders and leaned to the side to bring her bound wrists, hands, and thumbs into Jana's view.  "Mrrrf?"

Jana sighed and shook her head.  "Sorry.  Orders.  No untying."  Her smile returned.  "However..."  She leaned close, frowning in concentration, and carefully teased back a corner of Effie's tape-gag, then gently peeled it from her lips.  The process stretched Effie's skin... but finally the strip of Microfoam came free and Jana gently plucked the wads of cotton stuffing from Effie's mouth.

"Ahh... Thank you," Effie muttered, twisting her mouth and carefully licking her lips.  Her tongue had complained, but like the rest of her mouth, was glad to be rid of the tape and especially the stuffing.

Meanwhile, Jana had opened the lid of the picnic basket, crushed the former stuffing and tape into a wad, and dropped it inside.  She then reached in, produced a bottle of spring water, and cracked and removed its cap.

Effie smiled in aqueous anticipation, then accepted a generous chug from the bottle.

"Thanks," Effie sighed, then locked eyes with Jana before continuing.  "So, just to be clear, you're also Kyler's prisoner, right?"

Jana's smile returned.  "I suppose."  Her lips pursed in an adorable teasing moue as she executed an adorable little shrug.  (The adorable aspects were unavoidable, of course.)  Jana's smile returned.  "It's not so bad being a pony, Effie," she said.  "You'll get used to it.  Tasha is really very nice.  Kyler can be mean, but since Jo arrived, she spends most of her time playing with her."  Jana frowned (slightly) as she gazed at Effie.  "Here, let me straighten your hair."

Jana leaned close, reached behind Effie's head, and started combing her fingers through Effie's ponytail.  Not by coincidence, this brought her smiling lips very close to Effie's right ear.  "Microphones and video cameras everywhere," she whispered.  "They can't possibly monitor all of us all the time, but here and now is a safe bet."

"Got it," Effie whispered back.  "Thank you," she added in her normal voice as Jana finished fussing with her hair and leaned back.  So, Effie thought, she hasn't drunk the Kool-Aid.  Effie's initial impression had been that Jana might be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, that she might be a Happy Pony.  Now, Effie suspected Jana was only acting like a Happy Pony.  Maybe.  I'll have to be careful.

Effie gave the picnic basket a significant look... then turned back to Jana.

Jana's smile broadened and she took the hint by reaching inside, pulling out and snapping open a stereotypical red and white checked picnic napkin, and tucking it under the top of Effie's pony-collar.  It draped down Effie's chest and covered her breasts.  The ginger cutie then reached back into the basket and returned with a soup spoon and a shallow, cylindrical, bowl-sized insulated container.  "Warm soup," she announced as she removed the container's screw-cap and carefully set it aside.  "I believe it's pureed vegetable beef.  No chewing required," she explained with a grin as she stirred the thick soup in question.  "Carefully now," she cautioned as she loaded the spoon and held it to Effie's lips.  "You tongue is probably going to complain a little."

Effie accepted the spoon and carefully swallowed the soup.  Her pierced tongue did complain, but only with a slight twinge.  In any case, its objections were overridden by the rest of Effie's body, especially her stomach.  The soup was savory and delicious!

Effie shared her opinion, "Yum," then accepted a second spoonful.

"Good ponies eat well in Kyler's stable," Jana purred (with a surreptitious wink).  "She wants us in tiptop condition."

Effie swallowed.  "Why'd they pierce my damn tongue, anyway?"

Jana sighed, opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and showed Effie her pierced tongue and stainless steel dumbbell post.  "We all have them.  Kyler has what she calls 'Punishment Bits' that clamp over and under your tongue, behind the post.  Nasty things.  They make fighting the reins a painful proposition.  We all hate them."

"Who's we?" Effie inquired, then accepted a third spoonful of yummy soup (and ignored her tongue).

"The herd," Jana sighed.  "Lolita, Jo, Olivia, myself... and now you."

"By 'Olivia' you mean Lady Gladburn's assistant, Olivia Goodbody, right?" Effie asked and Jana nodded.  "Okay, but who's Lolita?"

Just then, and before Jana could answer, they heard a quiet but gradually increasing clattering/rattling noise from Effie's left (Jana's right) and turned their heads in that direction.

Effie's eyes popped wide and her jaw dropped.  "Dear Lord!" she gasped as she stared through the bars at the source of the racket.