by Van ©2019
		Chapter 13

Settling in for a nice, long, protracted languishing session is a process.

Penny squirmed and snuggled her neoprene bound and gagged body against the canvas-covered cushion of her inadequately-sized cage of iron bars.  Foam pad, she diagnosed, referring to the padding under the slightly rough, slightly scratchy canvas, possibly memory foam.  Penny had experience languishing on padded surfaces, from plush carpets to yoga mats to piles of cushions.  The pad would do.  It would have to do.

Some of the straps of her neoprene body-harness were slightly stretched and a little annoying (like the crotch-strap, for example), as was the black rubber tubing binding her feet and big toes, but Penny knew she'd be okay.  The same went for her muzzle-panel-ball-gag.  Would she have a few red marks and/or creases in the fair, smooth, arguably perfect skin of her beautiful face once she was un-gagged?  Yes, but like the marks left by expertly applied hemp ropes, they'd fade with time.  The elastic embrace of the neoprene was a constant reminder of her utter helplessness, but she knew that eventually her brain would start editing out the relevant inputs.  That was how things worked with rope and leather, anyway, when they were properly applied.

Next came a general assessment of the environment.  The attic space was dry, dusty, and warm... possibly too warm.  Penny would know for sure when and if she felt her perfect skin take on a delicate, feminine glow.  She'd already decided that such glowing was probably inevitable, but at least the attic atmosphere wasn't what she could call hot, not at the moment, anyway.  I'm in no danger of sweating like a pig, she decided, or a horse... or a kitten?  No, I don't think overheated kittens sweat... except for their pads and noses.  Also, they pant.  Anyway, I'm in no danger of sweating like a pig... or like Rada in the sauna.

As for the ambient light, there was no ambient light, and Penny's pre-languishing analysis was greatly hampered by the inky darkness.  She couldn't see anything... other than the usual ghostly, negative, floating, slowly fading images of what she'd been looking at immediately before Rada turned out the lights.  However, Penny thought, 'inky' doesn't adequately describe the current lack of illumination.  Stygian?  Yes, Penny decided.  This place is Stygian, very Stygian.  Stygia, itself, might not be this Stygian.  By the way, where the hell is Stygia?

And then, Penny's eyes finished adapting... and she realized the Gallery of Rafters & Joists wasn't so Stygian after all.

Faint, indirect light was shining from somewhere directly over her head.  Specifically, a small rectangle near the top of the cage and the other side of the the cage bars was glowing.  The cage was tucked against the Gallery's vertical wall... and a part of that wall was definitely glowing... faintly... with indirect light.

Penny squirmed and struggled and managed to sit up, scooted close until her face was nearly touching the iron bars, and peered at the rectangle.  It was... a ventilation grill?  This was odd (in Penny's humble opinion).  The aluminum heating and ventilation duct she'd noticed earlier took a 90° turn up from the floor, another 90° turn to continue across the top of the cage, then turned again and snaked around the closest of the vertical rafter/joist timber supports.  If there's a heating duct right there, she reasoned, why a ventilation grill in the wall?  Cross ventilation?  Or is the damn thing a mood light to improve the general languishing ambiance?

The truth dawned and Penny realized she wasn't looking at a ventilation duct but a view-port disguised as a ventilation duct.  It was made of bronze and cast in an elaborate Victorian floral design, and beyond she could see... more rafters?  The rafters in question were massive, lit from below, and elaborately carved, but they were definitely rafters.

Oh.  Great.  How thoughtful.  Thanks a frakkin' bunch.  More rafters.  Pretty, Gothic rafters.  Penny heaved a disgruntled sigh, then squirmed as close to the bars as she could and looked downwards. 

Oh!

Penny found she had a perfect view of the Grand Staircase, all the way down to the Grand Entryway, itself!  Actually, "perfect" was a bit of an exaggeration, given her bondage, incarceration, and the intervening iron bars.  Also, the angle was steep and the distance great, but she could see the fancy-schmancy staircase and expansive entryway.  Also, Penny now knew where she was with respect to the mansion's floor-plan.  Her view-port was tucked up among the rafters of the complicated, over-decorated, and vaulted ceiling, lost in the deep shadows that were doing their bit to put the Spooky in Spooky Roget Manor.  Even on a sunny day (like today), with light streaming through the fancy windows (like now), Penny's view-port/ventilation-grill would be totally lost in the Gothic clutter when "seen" from below.

Given her background, training, and kinky proclivities, Penny couldn't help but concoct a scenario that explained and justified the Roget's going to the trouble and expense to creating the current venue.

Hmm... Penny imagined, it's the 1890's, and a beautiful young Roget daughter and Gwyn ancestor (who looks amazingly like Gwyn) is wearing an full-length, strapless, formal ballgown... either that or she's naked.  Yes, naked, Penny decided.  You can't go wrong with naked.  Anyway, the 'Gwyncester' is bound from her bare shoulders to her dainty little ankles with enough hemp rope to rig a small sailboat, effectively gagged with a plethora of rags and scarves to keep her from calling out, and locked in the cage... this very cage.  And the guests of her daddy's latest Society-Soiree/Party-of-the-Season are arriving, all dressed to the nines and including her best friends from her exclusive boarding school, including her freminies, the Mean Girls.  Also arriving would be several handsome young bachelors and the Crown Prince of Hunkenstein, the certified dreamy stud she'd read about in all the papers and had been hoping to meet, flirt with, and possibly marry so she would someday become the Queen of Hunkenstein.  It was all her Wicked Step-Mother's doing, of course.  Penny heaved a sympathetic sigh.  Poor kid.

Penny squirmed back down and reclined on her side on the canvas-covered foam pad.  It was as comfortable as she could get, given the confines of the cage.

No, Penny changed her mind, I'll go with the strapless gown. Naked is always appropriate, but there's something about a damsel in a formal, strapless gown with yards and yards of hemp rope pressing the long, full, ruffled skirts against her legs, winding all the way up her body, framing her half-exposed boobs, pinning her arms behind her semi-bare back, and crisscrossing her bare shoulders.

Penny closed her eyes.  She was still trying to decide whether the beautiful young Gwyncestor in her imaginary melodrama would be barefoot or wearing dancing slippers when she drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Penny's eyes opened.  She was hearing voices!  She quickly heaved herself up onto her neoprene-cleaved rump, squirmed close to the view-port, and gazed down.

As she'd suspected, the voices belonged to Gwyn and Mandy.  Both of her fellow students/vacationers had just finished strolling across the Grand Entryway, from the direction of the kitchen, and were starting up the Grand Staircase.

They were clad in boots, socks, cargo shorts, t-shirts or tank-tops, and long-sleeved, summer-weight, fly-fishing/hiking shirts with the sleeves rolled up and secured with the little button-up flaps typical of such shirts. Their shirtfronts were unbuttoned and the tails tied across their stomachs.

Obviously, they'd completed their nature hike and were going upstairs to change.  There was no sign of their day-packs, water bottles, binoculars, and walking sticks, but they would have left them somewhere.  Spooky Roget Manor probably has an entire Hiking Equipment Storeroom dedicated to day-packs, water-bottles, binoculars, and hiking sticks, Penny reasoned, probably between the garage and the kitchen... and probably a separate storeroom for actual camping equipment like tents, folding chairs, and damsel cages.

Penny's alleged friends were holding hands (which Penny found to be only mildly irritating).  Their long black/dark-brown and ginger tresses (respectively) were pulled back in ponytails and they clutched floppy, wide-brimmed hats in what would otherwise have been their free hands.  Mandy's ensemble was redhead-appropriate, various forest colors with olive-green predominating.  Gwyn's costume, on the other hand, was... wait for it... predominately black, but with slate and heather-gray accents.  Penny shook her gagged head.  Even in a stereotypical hiking outfit Gwyn managed to pull off the whole Goth/Vampire-wannabe/Emo thing.

"But who are they?" Mandy said, continuing the conversation that had so rudely interrupted Penny's nap, returning her to the realm of naked, neoprene-bound-and-gagged, caged languishing.

Gwyn shrugged.  "Friends of Mother's."

Even at this distance, Penny could see Mandy roll her eyes.  "Duh!  But who are they?"

"Jeez, I don't know, Ginger," Gwyn responded, "but I do know they're not locals.  Rada said so.  She also said we'd meet them later.  They're staying the night."

"Well then... okay.  I guess we'll learn more then."

Gwyn smiled.  "I guess."

Her alleged friends and potential rescuers were now halfway up the stairs and Penny realized she was losing her chance to turn potential rescuers into actual!  If the acoustics allowed her to clearly hear Gwyn and Mandy's conversation, and it did, perhaps it would work the other way!  Penny took a deep breath, and...

"MRRRRRF!"

Green eyes suddenly wide, Mandy froze in place (also bringing Gwyn to a halt as they were still holding hands).  "What was that?" she demanded.

Gwyn shrugged.  "I don't know."  Her smile took a sinister curl.  "Maybe... a ghost?"

Mandy favored her girlfriend with a skeptical stare.  "The restless spirit of one of your evil ancestors?"

Gwyn shrugged again.  "All old houses make weird noises."

Mandy managed a wry smile.  "Especially Gothic monstrosities belonging to kinky families with more money than sense."

Gwyn gasped in mock outrage.  "Oh, I like that.  Be hateful why don't you?"

Mandy wasn't at all contrite.  "As I recall, 'Gothic monstrosity' is a direct quote from when you first told me about this place."  Her smile broadened.  "I'll grant you the 'more money than sense' remark was pretty cold, but 'kinky' is spot on."

Gwyn laughed.  "You're right.  'Kinky' is spot on."

Penny's Brave & Heroic Rescuers resumed climbing the stairs.  In fact, they were nearly at the top of the stairs and would soon be gone!  Penny decided to give it one more try.

"MRRRRRF!"

"There it is again," Mandy said.  "You don't suppose―"

Penny heaved a sigh of tragic proportions.  Mandy's voice had suddenly faded into faint, unintelligible noise... and now was gone altogether.  The acoustics had decided to suddenly shift to Cone of Silence mode.  Penny's fellow students/vacationers and clueless, potential rescuers were gone.

So... back to languishing.  Penny wiggled away from the bars and flopped down onto her side.  Maybe I can get back to sleep, she thought (hoped), and closed her eyes... then opened them again.  Wait...  We have visitors?  Who are they?  It was the same question Mandy had asked, but the inky darkness of the Grand Gallery of Joists/Rafters & Languishing Parlor was no more forthcoming than Gwyn had been in solving the mystery.

Penny heaved a resigned, well-gagged sigh... then closed her eyes, again.

The big honkin' spiders with long, hairy, creepy legs were a no-show... so...  Penny did a strategic withdrawal into Slumberland... (and dreamed of the hypothetical bound and gagged Gwyncestor (who looked a lot like Gwyn) languishing in Penny's place while the faint strains of Strauss waltzes wafted up to her attic prison from the mansion's Grand Ballroom... where all the poor, pathetic Roget-damsel's exquisitely gowned and coquettishly giggling friends and freminies were taking turns dancing with the Crown Prince of Hunkenstein and all the other hunks).

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Wake up, Kattunge."

Penny opened her eyes, heaved a sigh, and glared through the bars of her cage.  The lights were on and Rada was back, smiling down at her with her smug, irritating, and incredibly beautiful smile.  The tall, tan amazon was dressed in a simple but form-fitting dress and a pair of sensible but stylish shoes, the same Senior Servant Uniform she'd been wearing when Penny first arrived at Spooky Roget Manor.  If the intent of the ensemble was to make Rada look frumpy, it was a pathetic and absolute failure.  Rada was as gorgeous as ever.  Penny didn't think it was possible for Rada to be anything but gorgeous.  It was infuriating.

"Mistress Roget has visitors she'd like you to meet," Rada announced, then unlocked the cage, reached inside, grabbed Penny's neoprene-bound ankles, and pulled her from the cage.

How rude! Penny fumed as Rada picked her up and heaved her onto her shoulder in another fireman's carry.  Feet to Rada's front and gagged-head to the rear, Penny's hair flounced and settled around her head, partially obscuring her view of Rada's linen-clad rump and striding legs.

Obviously, Penny thought, Bethany's 'visitors' are the same 'friends' Elf and Ginger were discussing on the stairs, and if I'm gonna meet visitors, that means no neoprene bondage, a hot shower, and clothes, right?  The journey from the attic gallery continued.  Clothes, Penny mused.  I remember clothes.  I used to wear clothes.

As it turned out... not so much.  Rada carried Penny through the attic, down two sets of service stairs to the ground floor, through the maze of sitting rooms, parlors, and whatever-rooms, into a greenhouse of some sort, and past the manor's indoor swimming pool.  Penny heard water splashing, but couldn't see who was swimming.  Rada continued through a set of French doors and out onto the back lawn.  Penny didn't know where they were going (other than outside) but she very much doubted it was to a dressing pavilion with a neatly stacked cache of her previously stolen clothes.

"Mrrrf?"

Rada lightly tapped Penny's left butt-cheek.  "Settle down, Kattunge."

Yeah, sure, why not? Penny silently fumed.  Apparently, Bethany's visitors were the kind that didn't mind meeting naked, bound, and gagged kidnapped damsels.  Why not?  It's not like that's disturbing or anything.

Penny didn't have much of an opportunity to ponder the possibilities.  They left the lush lawn and Rada stepped onto a tiled surface.  Penny could smell chlorine, which suggested another pool, and then―"Mrrrf!"―she was heaved off Rada's shoulder, spun around, and her bound feet and toes planted on the sun-warmed tiles.  Rada's hands on her bare shoulders held her steady.  She shook her tousled blond curls from her gagged face―"Mrrrm?"―and her blue eyes widened.

Rada had, indeed, delivered Penny's naked, bound, and gagged self to a big, naturalistic, really nice outdoor swimming pool, complete with waterfall.  Bethany was reclined on a lounge chair to Penny's left, and sitting to her left (directly in front of Penny) were a pair of remarkably beautiful women.  Seriously.  Remarkable.  If Penny hadn't been muzzle-panel-ball-gagged, she would have made a remark to that effect.  'You two are really beautiful!'  Yeah, something like that... only clever and not embarrassing.

Like Bethany, the strangers were brunettes.  Unlike Bethany, they were wearing very attractive, designer-label, summer-weight dresses and obviously expensive sandals.  Bethany was almost naked in a skimpy, black, string bikini, and her feet were naked, meaning bare.

Penny noted that the stranger directly in front of her was... elderly, like Bethany... maybe.  Penny wasn't entirely sure.  The brown-eyed woman had this Timeless Beauty thing going.  Also, she had a killer bod, with generous (but not overly bulbous) boobs, a wasp-thin waist (within reason), and legs... really nice legs.  She exuded (so to speak) health and fitness, like an elite athlete or a highly trained dancer.  Also, she had a stunning smile to go with her stunning body.

		Jennifer Beals
		"Jane"
		(Penny has no idea that Jane is a senior operative of the mysterious "Sisterhood.")
		¢ 50-something ¢ 5' 8" (1.73 m) ¢ dark-brown hair ¢ brown eyes

The second stranger (the brunette on Bethany's far left, the "elderly" stranger's left, and Penny's right) was only semi-elderly, like Rada.  She had blue eyes... remarkable blue eyes, and like her older fellow stranger, had a gorgeous, athletic, very feminine, very athletic, but not quite as big-boobed figure.

		Cobie Smulders
		"Frankie"
		(Penny has no idea that Jane is also an operative of the mysterious "Sisterhood.")
		¢ 30-something ¢ 5' 8" (1.73 m) ¢ brown hair ¢ blue eyes

Smiling a sweet (and in no way gloating and infuriating) smile, Bethany indicated the first stranger with a graceful gesture.  "Penny, allow me to introduce my good friend, Jane."

"Hello, Penny," the stunningly beautiful and possibly-even-older-than-Bethany stranger said, smiling broadly.  "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Bethany indicated the Rada-aged stranger with a second graceful flip of her wrist.  "And this is Frankie."

"Hello, Penny," Frankie purred.  "And may I say, your surveillance photos and videos don't do you justice."

Penny blinked in surprise.  Surveillance?  Are these guys cops?

"Before we go any further," Jane continued, smiling at Penny, "please note that I am using the words 'raillery' and 'fortition' in the same sentence."

Penny continued blinking.  That was a Doctor Bondage authentication code, one of several prearranged word pairs Cousin Beebe or Suki could use in a letter, e-mail, or text message to let her know it was genuine and not coerced!

"Your cousin, Beebe Bond, sends her love," Jane continued.

"As does her associate, Suki," Frankie added.

Bethany turned to Rada, placed her right hand over her mouth, then nodded at Penny.

Rada's smile widened.  "Are you trying to tell me you'd like to be gagged?"

Jane and Frankie laughed, Bethany favored her supposed servant with a wry smile, and Penny started blinking again.

Bethany heaved a tolerant sigh.  "Please remove Penny's gag, then bring your little 'Kattunge' a nice cool drink."

Rada stepped behind Penny, parted her tousled blond hair, used her specialized snap-buckle tool to release the muzzle-panel-ball-gag's strap, then eased the gag's spherical plug from her mouth.  Penny worked her jaw, licked her lips, and watched with keen interest as Rada stepped to a side table, filled an acrylic tumbler with ice from an insulated bucket, lifted an insulated carafe, and poured some sort of pulpy, red-orange liquid into the tumbler.  She then carried the drink to Penny and held it so she could take a careful sip.

It was some sort of fruity cocktail, a blended concoction with rum.  Penny deigned to accept another sip.  Yes, there was definitely rum, and whatever it was, it was good, an excellent gag chaser.

Bethany, Jane, and Frankie had icy, fruity tumblers of their own and they all took sips.  Penny decided it was one of those monkey-see-monkey-do moments.  If she wasn't so effectively neoprene-bound, she would have scratched herself to see if they'd do that as well.

"I have something to take care of," Rada announced as she carried Penny's tumbler to the low side-table next to Bethany's lounge chair.  She then beamed her infuriatingly smug and beautiful smile at Penny in farewell, turned, and sauntered back to the mansion.

Bethany scooted to one side and patted the cushion next to her bikini-clad form.  "Over here, Penny darling," she suggested (ordered).

Penny eyed the lounge chair, speculatively.  It was wide enough for two (for two very chummy friends, anyway).  Also, it was adjacent to her only twice-sipped, icy, and delicious rum cocktail.  Sure, she decided, why not?  Then, Penny realized she'd been standing on her toe-bound, foot-bound, and ankle-bound feet all along, meaning ever since Rada planted her on her feet.  Ow! she belatedly and mentally complained, then carefully executed the three careful, humiliating, but not particularly precarious hops required to reach the lounge chair.

(Hop.)  Ow!  No doubt...  (Hop.)  Ow!  They like...  (Hop.)  Ow!  Watching my boobs flop.

It had been obvious that while Penny made her brief journey, Bethany, Jane, and Frankie had been poised to leap from their chairs and catch her if she started to fall, but they let her make the short, kangaroo-style sojourn on her own.  Bethany's proclivities Penny knew about, but the interest with which Jane and Frankie smiled and watched her progress spoke volumes about their tolerance and even appreciation of damsel-in-distress related activities.

I guess these two are friends of Beebe and Aunt Suki, Penny thought as she eased herself down onto the lounge chair's cushion... and against Bethany's right hip.  The High Mistress snuggled close, embraced Penny's bound and naked body from the side, and planted a kiss on her blushing left cheek.

"Is my face disfigured?" Penny asked Bethany in a near whisper.

Bethany chuckled, reached across Penny's bound body to lift her tumbler (her arm brushing Penny's neoprene-strap-framed breasts in the process) and held it to Penny's pouting lips.  "Your face is as beautiful as ever, darling girl," she purred.

Penny watched (and blushed) as Jane and Frankie exchanged a smile, then, once again, focused on her allegedly not disfigured face.

"To put more of our cards on the table, Penny," Jane said, "Frankie and I represent a large organization, of which Bethany is also a member."

"A junior member," Bethany purred, "not nearly as senior as my good friend Jane."

"But a valued member, nonetheless," Jane chuckled, then shifted her gorgeous smile back to Penny.  "Your cousin Beebe and Suki have been recruited and are undergoing... shall we say... indoctrination."

"That's one way to put it," Frankie chuckled, then took a sip from her tumbler.

"Behave," Jane chided her companion.  "Anyway, while Beebe and Suki find their places in our organization, I'm afraid your training program will have to be extensively revised."

Penny realized her heart was hammering.  Apparently (being so close), Bethany had also noticed.  She gave Penny another hug and kissed her cheek, once again.

"Uh... I don't understand what you're talking about," Penny muttered.

"Put another way," Jane continued, "Dr. Bondage and her partner in crime have experienced an abrupt change of career, which mean's Dr. Bondage's beautiful and talented young apprentice will have to change her plans."

Penny was surprised (and disappointed in herself) to find her eyes welling and her lips on the verge of trembling.  "I-I want to talk to Beebe," she mumbled.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," Jane answered with a sympathetic smile.  "Not at this time, and possibly not for several months."

"Why?" Penny inquired (whined).

"Beebe and Suki are immersed in their indoctrination and retraining programs," Jane explained.

"At an undisclosed location," Frankie added.

Jane favored Frankie with an unmistakable reprimand that took the form of a warm smile.  "Stop.  Helping."

"Yes, ma'am," Frankie answered, also smiling (and instantly contrite).

"But..."  Penny couldn't continue.  Beebe had taught her to maintain complete control of her emotions at all times.  Apparently, she needed more lessons... and now she wasn't going to get them!  All of Penny's plans and dreams were tumbling down around her!

"Don't you worry about a thing, darling," Bethany cooed.  "Your tuition and stipend will continue, as will your education at Lewis and Clark.  I'll see to it.  And you will be able to communicate with your cousin, eventually."  She shifted her focus to Jane.  "Correct?"

"Almost certainly," Jane nodded.

"Almost?" Penny whined.

Still smiling, Jane shrugged.  "I'm not a seer, but I'd put the odds at roughly 99.9%."

"'Roughly,'" Frankie chuckled, earning herself another smile and an eye roll from Jane.

"When?" Penny demanded.

"That I'm not so sure about," Jane sighed.  "It will almost certainly be a few months.  First, you'll start receiving letters, and you'll be able to reply.  When you return to school, I urge you to concentrate on your studies.  I know that's what Beebe wants you to do, and Suki agrees."

Bethany hugged Penny, again.  "We know it's a lot to take in all at once, Penny darling."

"No kidding," Penny mumbled.

"We realize we're throwing you in the deep end and hoping you can swim, so to speak," Jane said earnestly, "but our psychologists agree you have the strength of character, maturity, and intelligence to adapt to the situation, and eventually, you may become a valued member of our organization."

"What organization?" Penny demanded.

Jane's smile widened.  "We'll talk more later, Penny, after you've had more time to digest what I've told you."

Frankie rose from her chair.  "I think that's an excellent idea," she said as she began unbuttoning her dress, "meaning the 'deep end' metaphor."

Jane rolled her eyes, again.  "Frankie."

Frankie didn't reply.  Instead, she continued smiling what Penny considered to be a rather predatory smile as she disrobed.  Penny, Bethany, and Jane watched―Penny with wide eyes and Bethany and Jane with indulgent smiles―as Frankie shrugged and stepped out of her dress, unbuckled and removed her sandals, then removed her bra and panties.  She then neatly folded her clothes and placed them on her chair.

"If you give me a moment," Bethany purred, "I can have Rada bring you a bikini."

Frankie grinned.  "Thanks, but no thanks."

Penny blinked in appreciation.  Yowser!  Frankie fully clothed was beautiful.  Frankie in the nude was breathtaking!  She was strong and tan and gorgeous and athletic.  Rada was taller (of course) and the Norwegian Troll's breasts were fuller (a little), but Frankie's sweater puppies would do quite nicely, especially once free of that annoying proverbial sweater!  Also, Frankie had a really nice pubic bush, neatly trimmed, but thick and dark and curly and... she was padding in Penny's direction!

"Hey!" Penny complained as Frankie lifted her into her arms.  "No!"  Frankie was carrying her towards the pool!  Penny looked back and appealed to her hostess.  "Bethany!"

"You'll be fine, dear," Bethany purred.  "Frankie is an expert rescue swimmer."

"She is," Jane confirmed, "among many other things."

Penny squirmed in Frankie's arms.  "Can we talk about this?" she whined as they reached the edge of the pool.

"No," Frankie answered, then jumped.

"Eeeeee..."―Splash!―"Glub!"

Actually, a dip in the pool was refreshing, but Penny wasn't about to let anybody know that was how she felt, least of all her new friend Frankie.  After several aquamarine, bubbling seconds... Penny and her naked handler bobbed to the surface.

Penny shook her wet hair from her face, as best she could, and stared very sharp, very wet, but totally ineffectual daggers at Frankie's gorgeous, smiling face.  "You rat!"

"Frankie laughed.  "Water-rat!"  She then released her hold and swam away.

"Glub!"  Penny wiggled and righted herself until she was floating with her head (and boobs) above the surface.  She kicked her bound legs and continued glaring at Frankie.  Bound as she was, treading water was difficult, but Penny was a good swimmer and managed to save herself from drowning.  The fact that her bonds were all made of neoprene and plastic probably helped... or at least weren't an added encumbrance.

And then, Penny had a somewhat disturbing (maybe) minor epiphany.  Neoprene.  Plastic.  No metal.  Did Rada know all along I was gonna wind up in the pool?  Or is this a happy coincidence and it just happens to be Neoprene Day?

Back at poolside, Bethany and Jane were having a quiet conversation.

"In her place," Bethany said as she watched Penny "swim" and Frankie make sure she didn't drown, "I think I'd be a blubbering wreck.  She's such a strong and adaptable young woman.  I'm impressed."

"I agree," Jane purred, "but her talents, intelligence, and energy need to be channeled in a better direction than kidnapping-for-hire.  I think that subcommittee of the Council of Great Mothers made a good call.  Penny Parr needs nurturing, not stifling."

"Actually, she needs both."  Bethany smiled at Jane.  "I'll do my best, and my Gwyneth will help."

Jane's smile widened.  "I know.  The Council has plans for your Gwyneth, as well."

Bethany blushed with pride.  "We all serve as best we can," she intoned, "some as humble affiliates, like myself, and some as future members of the Council, like yourself.  And don't give me that self-deprecating smirk.  Everybody knows you're on the short list.  But tell me, with your busy schedule of juggling your many earthshaking projects, how is something as minor as directing Penny Parr to the straight and narrow even on your radar?"

"Sally," Jame answered.

Bethany lifted an eyebrow.  "Sally."

"Sally is a big help with all our endeavors," Jane chuckled, then grew more serious.  "And I've found that when she brings something to my attention, no matter how trivial it might appear on its face, it's a very good idea to listen.  Sally started following Penny's 'career' soon after she started monitoring the FBI's Dr. Bondage task force.  I assume you're familiar with the Butterfly Effect?"

Bethany nodded.  "A butterfly in China flaps its wings and sometime later a hurricane blows through the Caribbean.  Tiny changes in initial, small-scale conditions can drastically alter large-scale outcomes.  That's one reason extended weather forecasts are of limited value, and why the fine details of climate prediction models are somewhat tenuous."

Frenzied splashing and hysterical soprano laughter interrupted the conversation.  Frankie was taking advantage of Penny's helplessness to deliver a very wet tickling to the thrashing, kicking, giggling and shrieking young blonde.  Frankie's actions were truly despicable and totally unfair.  Bethany and Jane smiled and sipped their drinks.

"Anyway," Jane continued, "when Sally suggests that one particular butterfly merits my attention, I take the time... especially as Sally winds up doing most of the actual work."

Bethany frowned.  "It's a little scary having an artificial intelligence that deeply embedded in the Sisterhood's planning and operations."

"Sally agrees," Jane purred.  "She allows us to use her capabilities for things like surveillance, expert systems analysis, and data-mining, but refuses to be entrusted with unsupervised power.  Sally isn't Skynet, and she doesn't want to be Skynet.  Imagine the hassle of chasing down each and every butterfly and persuading them to flap their wings or not flap their wings according to your plan.  She says ruling the world would be an incredible hassle... and a colossal bore."

"So she says," Bethany sighed, "but then, the Sisterhood is neither the Freemasons nor the Illuminati, and we certainly don't want to rule the world, right?"

Jane's smile widened.  "So we say."

Gwyn and Mandy were in a cozy reading room on the mansion's second floor, but that was "cozy" on the scale of Spooky Roget Manor.  It was actually a generous, complicated space, a series of interconnected nooks and alcoves that provided semi-privacy.  There were decadently comfortable overstuffed sofas and easy-chairs, as well as elaborately carved desks and side tables, bookcases, stylish, expensive lamps and knickknacks, etc., the sort of thing you'd expect to find in an exclusive gentleman's club, with the exception of elderly aristocrats and titans of industry in expensive suits reading newspapers, smoking pipes and cigars, and hushing anyone who dared to utter a word.

The girlfriends were dressed in bikinis as they'd recently completed numerous and vigorous laps in the indoor pool (in lieu of the time in the gym they'd promised Rada earlier).  As they finished their watery exercise and were climbing from the pool, Mandy had glanced through the glass window-wall and noticed Rada carrying a naked, bound, and gagged Penny across the lawn towards the outdoor pool.  She pointed this out to Gwyn and the dripping wet brunette had grinned and grabbed her towel.  "C'mon!" she urged.  They'd taken the time to dry themselves and remove their swim-caps, but not to get dressed.  Gwyn explained she knew the perfect venue from which they could spy on what was happening, but they had to move!

The venue was their current reading room location, of course, and Gwyn and Mandy were gazing through a bay window that afforded a perfect view of the pool and its associated lounging area.  Gwyn's right eye was pressed against the eyepiece of a brass, antique telescope on an oak tripod.  "Whoever they are," Gwyn muttered as she adjusted the focus, "they're beautiful."

"No kidding," Mandy huffed.  She could see Penny, Bethany, and the two strangers/visitors, but only in distant, non-magnified detail.  "When is it my turn?" she muttered.

"Now," Gwyn chuckled, then stepped away from the telescope.

Mandy smiled, took her place, and peered through the eyepiece.  "Yeah... they're beautiful."  She shifted the telescope, slightly.  "Is that neoprene on Penny?  The harness looks tight.  Oh, look, one of your mother's visitors is undressing!"

Gwyn tapped Mandy's shoulder.  "Ahem."

"Stop," Mandy complained.  "It's my turn!  Nobody likes a telescope hog.  Anyway... whoever she is... she's gorgeous!"

"A-hem!" Gwyn reiterated.

"What?" Mandy demanded, turned her head to glare at her girlfriend, noticed that Gwyn's blue-eyed stare was directed at something behind them, turned to see what was so interesting... and her green eyes popped wide in alarmed understanding.  "Oh!"

Rada, resplendent in her Senior Servant Uniform, was standing across the reading room and smiling (leering) at the bikini-clad youngsters.  A black canvas duffel was clutched in her right hand (which Gwyn and Mandy didn't find to be at all ominous).

"There you are, ladies," Rada purred.  She stepped forward several paces and dropped the duffel to the floor.  It landed on the plush carpet with a metallic clatter (which Gwyn and Mandy also didn't find to be at all ominous).  "I've been looking for you."  Rada's ubiquitous smile widened.  "Strip for Rada."