by Van © 2025
		Chapter 8

The Master/Mistress Bedroom of Grey Mansion... a little after midnight.

---

Nikki glowered at her old college chums with resentful (and tired) eyes.  She was still naked, suspension-cuffed to "Ol' Man Lacing Bar," her ankles rope-bound about three inches apart, up on her toes, and gagged with a silicon-rubber-gobstopper-panel-gag from her own collection.  Also, selected portions of her tan skin (approximately thirty percent) were flushed from having been recently and repeatedly flogged by Birdie with Nikki's very own flogger and "touched up" by Rosie using her very own riding crop.

Adding insult to outrage (but not injury), this was probably the most extensive use of Nikki's instruments of flagellation and discipline had ever received—and they'd been used on her, not her using them on somebody else!  There had been the single very memorable occasion when John (Nicole/Nikki's beloved husband who was currently in Europe on business) had used the flogger to "warm up" her butt, but that had been teasing, nothing like the workout Birdie had given the thing (and her butt).  Also, Rosie's use of the crop, mainly on her breasts and nipples, had been superfluous, egregious, and uncalled for!  In any case, Nikki had procured both instruments mainly as fashion accessories, to make her look wicked and scary when wearing the appropriate costumes, not for use on her own body!

At least her alleged friends had been careful when applying the flogger and crop to her helpless anatomy.  It hadn't been a pleasant experience, not in any way, but as Nikki basked in the tingle of the aftermath, as far as she could tell her flushed skin was undamaged.  She suspected that by morning the offended areas would have taken on the appearance of a barely noticeable (and inexplicable) sunburn.  The pink zones might even have faded away altogether.

Nikki was "none the worse for wear," to use the tired cliché.  The Americanism of having been "rode hard and put away wet" also applied.  Why wet?  The Mistress of Grey Mansion was... glowing.  That is, her tan skin was shining (but not dripping) with perspiration.  As it turned out, being flagellated and/or whipped while naked, bound, and gagged is something of a workout.  Who knew?

As for Poor Nikki's torturers/playmates, after perpetrating their wicked deeds and while still wearing their spandex exercise outfits, Birdie and Rosie had retired to the bed (Nikki's own bed), where they snogged briefly (mainly in mutual congratulation and without any great passion as far as Nikki could tell).  Then, they'd reclined against the the bed's many piled pillows, snuggled close again, and were now smiling at her... gloating like maleficent imps from the depths of the underworld.

It was an outrage!  It was unacceptable!  First chance she got (like tomorrow night) Nikki fully intended to haul either Birdie or Rosie (or maybe both of them) down to her subterranean dungeons and torture chambers and... do things to her/them.  Nikki's problem was, of course, that she had so many choices.  There were so many exquisite torments and predicaments patiently waiting to be imposed by her fiendish furnishings and torture engines, but fortunately (so to speak) there was no need for haste.  Nikki had the rest of the night and all day tomorrow to make plans.  She glowered at the oh-so-self-satisfied flagellation enthusiasts and soon-to-be victims, deep in thoughts of revenge... and sweated.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and Cook strode into the chamber!

(!!!!!)

Nikki's blue eyes popped wide above her gag (and she continued sweating)!

Birdie and Rosie bolted upright into full sitting positions!  Their blue eyes were also wide.

By the way, inexplicably, Cook was dressed from the neck down in skintight, body-hugging, and tactically accessorized black, including gloves.  She was the very picture of a stealthy secret agent on a covert mission!  It was a new look for Nikki's chef and senior servant.  Also, Cook appeared to be completely unarmed.  No holstered pistol, no sub-machine gun on a sling, no belt-fed chain-gun, no bazooka, and no RPG launcher.  She wasn't even toting a katana or battleaxe.  Some Action Heroine.

"This simply won't do!" Cook declared as she continued forward, her green eyes flashing and her short ginger hair bobbing.  Soon, gloved hands on hips, she was standing to the immediate left of her naked, semi-suspended, bound, gagged, sweating, and incredulous/perplexed employer and glaring at her employer's house guests.

"It isn't what it seems!" Birdie exclaimed, pointing at Nikki.

Cook shifted her angry gaze from the flogger and crop resting on the seat of a nearby chair... to Mistress Grey's pink and gleaming skin... then back to the bed and Ms. Brandon.

Nikki and Rosie rolled their eyes.  Birdie blushed.  Cook continued staring.

"Okay," Birdie admitted, "it is what it seems, but..."  Her blush deepened, "we're just... playing?"

Cook, Rosie, and Nikki stared at Birdie.

Birdie batted her big blue eyes at Cook.  "We didn't hurt her," she said earnestly.  "We'd never do that.  It really is just a game."

Cook smiled (slightly) for the first time since she'd entered the bedchamber.  "I know that, Robyn, and I hope you know that I'd never hurt either of you."  She nodded at the nude, shining, and helpless Mistress Grey.  "Just as Mistress would never hurt you."

Birdie (aka "Robyn" when she wasn't reliving their Cambridge years with Rosie and Nikki) nodded.  She also managed a marginal smile.

Cook shifted her smile to Rosie (aka "Roslyn").  "You, as well, Ms. Reid."

Rosie/Roslyn managed a weak (and somewhat quirky) smile of her own... then also nodded.

"Good," Cook stated.  "Now, as I'm sure you understand, I am Mistress Grey's most trusted servant and it is my responsibility to maintain the peace and regulate the stability of her household; therefore, it falls upon me to restore the balance of the current situation.  Do you understand?"

Birdie/Robyn and Roslyn/Rosie exchanged somewhat sheepish semi-smiles.

"Busted," Birdie whispered.

"Busted," Rosie agreed.

The brunettes turned to Cook and nodded.

"Excellent," Cook nodded.  "I expect your full cooperation."  Then her smile faded and she made an imperious gesture.  "Strip.  Both of you."

Still in the Master/Mistress Bedroom, a few eventful minutes later.

---

Cook took a step back, crossed her arms under her breasts, and for the first time since her arrival smiled fully.  The situation in the bedroom had changed significantly.

Robyn and Roslyn had followed her order and divested themselves of their exercise costumes... which they neatly folded and stacked on the seat of the chair already holding the flogger and riding crop they'd used to "play" with Mistress Grey.  Naked, blushing, and barely suppressing the urgent need to use their hands and arms to shield their breasts and crotch areas from Cook's green eyes and thereby preserve some vestige of their dignity and/or modesty.  Then, they watched as the Ninja-Cook turned and strolled into the bedroom's walk-in closet.

Nikki also watched as her senior servant disappeared into the closet... her closet.  She'd expected to be released immediately, but it hadn't happened.  Mistress Grey was still naked, suspension-cuffed, gagged, and the prisoner of Ol' Man Lacing Bar.

Seconds passed... then Cook returned with two pair of stainless steel "Irish-Eight" one-piece handcuffs in one hand, and in her other two more of the same black leather panel-gags with red tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstoppers currently silencing Mistress Grey.

Cook tossed everything on the bed except for a single pair of cuffs, backed Birdie against the lower left bedpost—"Hey!"—pulled the naked house guest's hands behind the post, and cuffed her wrists together.  Click!

Birdie tugged on the cuffs, blinked her remarkable blue-green eyes, bit her lower lip, and watched as Roslyn received similar treatment with respect to the second set of cuffs and the lower right bedpost.

Next (to nobody's great surprise) came the deployment of the gags.  Robyn and Roslyn could think of nothing clever or sympathy-inducing to say, so they waited stoically for it to happen.  Also, they trusted Cook to not get carried away and do something drastic.  In addition, they were still supremely embarrassed and chagrined to have been caught in the aftermath of "pinkifying" Nikki's butt, breasts, thighs, back, etc.  Soon, both brunettes were "at their posts" and as naked and well-gagged as their arms-over-head-bound hostess.

True to their cunning, restrictive design, the cuffs had no connecting chain and therefore clamped Robyn and Roslyn's wrists together with the naked, bound, and gagged prisoners' hands permanently palm-to-palm.  Their backs, butts, and thighs were pressed against the elaborately turned Gothic Revival bedposts and their shoulders rolled back.  Therefore, their naked breasts were jutting out more than usual.  The brunettes exchanged gagged expressions of mutual commiseration as they waited for Cook to release Nikki/Nicole, who would no doubt unleash inevitable and unpleasant retribution... and this time the Mistress of Grey Mansion would have a Loyal Assistant, clad from her neck to her soft boots in ominous black!

However... that wasn't what happened.

Cook sauntered to the bedside table, picked up the touchscreen remote, and began tapping its tiny screen, sliding her finger, and maneuvering her way through its various menus.

Hmmm...  Birdie, Roslyn, and Nicole looked up as the motor powering the lacing-bar system hummed to life, the cable lowered briefly—Hummm-click!—then locked.  The Mistress of Grey Mansion was finally able to come down off her toes.  Her heels were finally resting on the plush carpet, but that was the only change.

Nicole sighed in gagged relief, looked down at her bare and still rope-bound ankles, up at the unseen and now silent motor somewhere overhead, then focused on Cook.  She tugged on her suspension-cuffed wrists.  "Mrrrf?" she inquired, tugged on her wrists again (causing her bare breasts to bob slightly), then frowned above her gag.  "Mrrrf!" the still helpless blonde demanded (begged).

Cook ignored her employer's "order" and instead tucked the remote into an empty pouch on her utility belt, stepped forward, wrapped her arms around her employer's waist—"Mrrrk?"—lifted Nicole's bound feet off the floor—"Mrrrpfh!"—spun her around until she was facing the gigantic hi-resolution TV mounted on the wall across the bedroom, then lowered her bound feet back to the carpet.

Nicole tugged on her cuffs yet again—"Nrrmrrffrrrgh!"—and glowered at her employee's back as Cook sauntered across the bedroom... then turned and stood beside the TV.

Cook smiled at her naked, bound, and gagged audience of three, pulled the remote from its pouch, tapped the screen, once again, and began negotiating its menus... and after a few seconds the TV began to glow.  All three captives had an excellent view of the screen.  They processed what they were seeing... and their blue eyes popped to maximum width and they screamed through their gags!

"MRRRPFH!"  (That was the simultaneous reaction of Nicole, Robyn, and Roslyn.)

On the huge screen, depicted in hi-resolution and enhanced color, Cook and her captives beheld the video image of three additional captives: Eppi, Enid, and Faith!

The setting was a stone-walled chamber with a vaulted ceiling lit by glowing iron braziers tucked in the corners and iron and glass lanterns dangling from chains overhead.  The mothers' three darling daughters were in a row with Enid on the left, Faith in the middle, and Eppi on the right,  Also, they were naked, tape-gagged, and elaborately and strictly bound with a great deal of expertly applied conditioned hemp rope!

All three damsel-daughters were box-tied.  Their upper-arms were pinned to their sides, their shoulders yoked with strands of rope, and their wrists bound behind their backs and against their spines, just below their shoulder blades; however, from that point the details of their predicaments diverged significantly.

Faith was hogtied.  In point of fact, Faith was stringently hogtied.  Her ankles were crossed and bound, her folded legs separately frog-tied, and only a few inches of very taut rope linked the nexus of her box-tie-bonds to her ankle-bonds, bending her spine and forcing her into a severe back-arching bow.  Her breasts and thighs hovered above the stone floor and she was balancing on her taut tummy!  Clearly, Faith was going nowhere.  Finally, a length of rope was tied to her box-tie-bonds, well beyond the reach of her weakly fluttering and groping fingers, and its far end tied to an iron ring embedded in the stone wall about three feet off the floor.  The tether appeared to allow sufficient slack for the weakly squirming blonde to roll onto her side if she wished to do so... maybe... but was otherwise making very sure that she remained in the immediate vicinity of where she'd been placed.

Eppi was shrimp-tied.  She was sitting in a semi-lotus with her knees splayed wide apart and her ankles and thighs bound.  Also, she had no choice but to lean forward at the waist.  Taut ropes linked the front of her box-tie bonds to her ankles and passed over her shoulders and across the back of her neck.  It could have been worse—Eppi wasn't in a truly severe crunch—but she couldn't possibly be comfortable.  Her rope-framed breasts dangled and wobbled... slightly... as she struggled and squirmed.  Like Faith, Eppi was tethered to the wall using a rope and iron ring of her very own.

Finally, Enid was ball-tied and lying on the stone floor in a fetal tuck on her right side.  Her legs were bound together at the ankles and just above her knees, her breasts pressed against her thighs, and a tight matrix of ropes passed around her entire body and was hitched and cinched through her box-tie and other bonds.  Like her fellow captives, Enid was tethered to the wall with a rope and a third embedded iron ring.  It was appeared to be highly unlikely that she'd be able roll over onto her other side or significantly change her location.

"MRRRRRK!" the naked, bound, and gagged mothers in the bedroom reiterated, struggling furiously against their respective bonds.

Cook smiled (slightly) and gazed at the screen for several seconds, ignoring Nicole, Robyn, and Roslyn's naked, bound, and gagged tantrums... then turned her green-eyed and unperturbed gaze to the distressed mothers.

"You weren't aware your darlings were playing a game of their own," Cook purred, "were you."  It was a statement (accusation), not a question.

The maternal captives abruptly stopped struggling, their blue and green eyes blinking as their wobbling breasts came to rest.

"That's right," Cook reiterated, "a game of their own."  She focused her smile on her employer.  "Pumpkin borrowed—by which I mean stole—your diary from your Cambridge years the last time she was home... and you didn't even notice, did you."  (Another statement.)

Nicole tugged on her suspension-cuffs and continued blinking, but didn't otherwise respond.

"Faith talked her friends into adapting your gaming system for their own purposes," Cook continued, "and they've been tying each other up every night since their arrival at Grey Mansion... but none of you even suspected.  You were too busy playing your own game."

The captive maternal units were still somewhat exercised, but were also looking at each other with manifestly sheepish expressions... sheepish gagged expressions.

"I feel I have no choice but to intervene," Cook stated, then turned her back to her employer and the two house guests and resumed gazing at the video stream of the weakly struggling naked, bound, and tape-gagged daughters.  "I'm taking charge," she decreed.  "Starting tomorrow, the two games will be combined into one.  I've drawn up a revised set of rules and procedures which I will strictly enforce.  We'll hold a briefing in the morning."

The naked, bound, and gagged mothers started blinking again.

"To be clear," Cook continued, "from now on, I will be in charge of all rope, restraint, and dungeon-related activities, and I will be the sole arbitrator of all game-related disputes."

Cook turned and focused on her naked, bound, and gagged employer.  "I know you're proud of the subterranean playrooms you've had constructed over the last few years and are anxious to start using them on your friends.  I promise you that I'll make sure that happens.  As you're well aware, I've been involved in every phase of your various dungeon projects, keeping the maids out from underfoot and unawares, if nothing else; but what you might not be aware of is that back in the cottage I have a duplicate set of plans for each and every dungeon and torture chamber, including the operating manuals of all the torture furnishing and engines."  Her smile broadened (and turned sinister).  "I also have a full set of duplicate keys, and when you're away from the mansion on extended trips I see to the cleaning, lubrication, and periodic scheduled maintenance of all of your sinister devices."

Nicole stared at her senior employee in naked, bound, and gagged amazement... or something similar.

Robyn and Roslyn exchanged gagged expressions that were equal parts wonderment and trepidation.

"So," Cook continued, "here's what's going to happen."  She gestured at the screen (and the stringently bound and gagged daughters).  "I'm going to 'rescue' the young ladies, move them back upstairs, and tuck them into bed."  Her smile turned semi-sinister, once again.  "Don't worry.  I'll make sure they're significantly more comfortable than they are now before turning out the lights."

The mothers tugged on their respective cuffs and stared mournfully at the video stream of their weakly struggling and totally helpless daughters.

"That will take a while, of course," Cook purred.  "Therefore, I suggest the three of you relax until I come back to 'rescue' you."

With that pronouncement Cook tapped the remote and the TV screen went dark.  She then tossed the remote onto the seat of a nearby chair, turned, and strolled towards the bedroom door.

The naked, bound, and gagged mothers watched as their captor made her exit.

Then, with a series of awkward hopping steps... Nikki turned her back to the now dark TV and rotated 180°.  Her generous breasts bounced and bobbled with every hop.

Birdie and Rosie noted that the shaking, oscillating, and quivering bristols, as well as the rest of Nikki's smooth, tan skin seemed to have already lost most of the blush imparted by the flogger and crop.  Also, her nipples were no longer erect.  Apparently, they'd gone flaccid with distress when the naked, hogtied, and tape-gagged predicament of her darling Pumpkin was revealed.

Finally, Nikki stopped hopping.  Her back (and still slightly pink butt) was to the TV and her gagged face (and wobbling breasts) to her fellow maternal units.

Nikki, Birdie, and Rosie focused on one another.  They had a lot to discuss, but obviously that wasn't going to happen until Cook returned... if then.  They heaved simultaneous sighs, then settled in to wait, as their ninja/secret-agent/captor had suggested... meaning ordered.

A Subterranean Undisclosed Location.

---

Faith was trying her best to be furious with Cook, but despite her best efforts she found she just couldn't carry it off... even though she had good reason... very good reason!

Cook had betrayed her!  Faith was naked, bound, gagged, and sequestered in some sort of dungeon cell with stone floor, walls, and ceiling and a heavy timber door banded with iron straps and studded with iron bolts!  Classic medieval accommodations!  Also, she had no idea where she was, other than somewhere under the mansion.  Cook hadn't removed her light-tight hood/blindfold until after her arrival, her bonds had been enhanced... significantly.  Finally, she was tethered by means of an iron ring embedded in the stone wall with a semi-slack length of hemp rope!

Faith had always suspected (and fantasized) that the mansion had Secret Dungeons, ever since she was a little kid, but despite her extensive explorations she'd never located any... and the "secret" maid's corridors didn't count.  They were hiding in plain sight.  Anyway... apparently there were Secret Dungeons... or at least a Secret Dungeon, singular.

Oh-by-the-way, Eppi and Enid were sharing the dungeon cell and they were also naked, bound, gagged, and tethered to their own iron rings!

In terms of detail, Eppi was shrimp-tied on her left and Enid was ball-tied on her right, which meant Faith was hogtied in the middle... stringently hogtied in the middle.  Also, her brunette friends were still sporting what very much looked like the same tape-gags (with balled-anklets stuffing) Faith herself had inflicted on them prior to the appearance/intervention of Cook!  Adding imitation to incarceration, Faith's own tape-gag was superficially identical; however, her mouth-plug was a tongue-trapping and bite-protecting silicon-rubber blob that had been stuffed in her mouth by Cook!

Cook the traitor!  Cook the wicked villainess!  Cook the meanie (who had looked surprisingly hot and domineering in her skintight black spandex ninja/cat-burglar/secret-agent outfit)!

Faith heaved a sigh and struggled against her manifestly inescapable bondage.  She couldn't free herself, and thanks to their tethers there was no way any of the captives could possibly wiggle close enough to even attempt to free each other.  It was infuriating... but only in a generalized and unfocused sense.

In spite of everything, Faith still wasn't truly mad at Cook, her suddenly villainous childhood friend.  Peeved?  Yes.  Confused?  Yes.  Furious?  No.  Go figure.

Faith was also somewhat titillated by her changed situation, which did nothing to bring balance to her psyche.  She was doing her best to ignore her unexpected change-of-status from Vengeful Binder to just another naked, bound, and gagged Bindee, but found that on at least on some level she was enjoying the situation... sort of... after a fashion.

Suddenly, the cell's formidably medieval door was unlocked—Click!—opened—Creee!—and Cook reappeared.  She was still wearing her secret agent outfit.

"Enough play," Cook announced.  "Time for bed."

Faith exchanged gagged looks with her fellow captives.  Cook didn't appear to be angry, nor was she gloating, but her expression wasn't exactly friendly.

At that point Cook began untying Enid's ball-tie bondage.  The process took a while... but eventually the majority of the tight ropes melted away and the wide-eyed brunette's bonds were reduced to the box-tie Faith herself had originally tied.  Also, Enid's rope leash was still tied to the nexus of her bonds and tethering her to the iron ring.

Eppi was next.  Her shrimp-tie was reduced to a box-tie and tether.

Then (finally) it was Faith's turn.

Next, all three gamesters found themselves naked, box-tied, tape-gagged, standing in a line (Enid, Eppi, then Faith), and their rope tethers retied to form a coffle of three.  They watched as Cook quickly and efficiently coiled and secured the loose jumble of their former ball-tie, shrimp-tie, and hogtie predicaments to form a substantial bandolier of conditioned hemp bundles that she slipped over her right shoulder.  The naked captives continued watching (with growing alarm) as once again Cook (still all business and not smiling) slipped black spandex hoods over their heads, one-by-one!

The bound brunettes and blonde complained as this was happening, of course—"Mrrrk!"  "Mrrpfh!"  "Nrrrm!"—but were ignored by their 40-something ginger captor.

"Don't worry, ladies," Cook intoned.  "We'll take it slow and I won't let you bump into walls or trip on the stairs."

And with that, the captive daughters' rope leashes snapped taut... one-by-one... and they were off.  True to her word, Cook set a stately and prudent pace.

The Master/Mistress Bedroom...  Zero-Dark-Thirty.

---

Robyn/Birdie, Nikki/Nicole, and Roslyn/Rosie lay side-by-side (and in that order) on the gigantic bed, naked and in identical inescapable bondage.  Specifically, their ankles were tied together, then tethered to the foot-board and their wrists cuffed together behind their backs with the one-piece handcuffs.  (Cook had fetched a third set of joined steel bracelets from wherever they'd been stored in the walk-in closet.  At least in this case, apparently, the ginger ninja had decided the uniformity of her prisoners' bondage was aesthetically important.)  Their upper-torsos and shoulders were bound with hemp rope using the "Kimono" technique, then tethered to the headboard.  Finally, the panel-gags (with tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstoppers) still silenced all three captives with depressing effectiveness and efficiency.

As the key to everybody's cuffs was unavailable and the key knots of everybody's ankle and kimono-tie tethers were well beyond the reach of everybody's groping and fluttering fingers, the senior damsels were totally dependent on Cook to eventually return to the bedroom and release them.  That's right!  Cook had "put them to bed" and abandoned them to their fate!  And this was after they'd watched on the titanic bedroom TV as she'd put their darling daughters to bed in Faith's bedroom on Faith's bed!

Their daughters had been naked, ankle-tied and tethered to the foot-board of Faith's bed, box-tied (with their wrists crossed and raised past the horizontal behind their backs), their box-ties tethered to the headboard, and silenced by Elastoplast® tape-gags.  The titanic TV was now dark, but the mothers had every reason to assume their daughter' sleeping arrangements remained unchanged.

There would be no self-rescuing happening in either venue.

In summary, Cook had put the younger generation of irresponsible gamesters to bed, then had returned to the Master/Mistress Bedroom and done the same to their elders.  She'd been careful, insuring that all six damsels remained totally helpless during every phase of the transition.  Cook really was an experienced and well-trained rigger.

Remarkably, Cook had not gloated, nor had she even smiled.  She'd been all business, the business of making sure all six gamesters were completely helpless, unable to free each other, and would remain that way until she decided otherwise.  She did engage/indulge in a classic exposition/lecture delivered to a captive audience, but only in the Master/Mistress Bedroom, and only with respect to the elder naked, bound, and gagged damsels.

"It's very late," Cook observed, "I've been very busy, and that's on top of a full workday.  So... we'll all be sleeping in this morning.  Instead of breakfast I'll be preparing a late brunch... perhaps quiche, pastries, fruit, and the appropriate charcuterie items."

The captive college chums exchanged blinking expressions.  Brunch sounded good; however, "sleeping in" while naked, bound, and gagged did not.

"At that time I'll reveal the revised rules of the new combined game," Cook continued.

"Mrrrf!" Mistress Grey objected.

"I've put a great deal of thought into how best to rectify the current situation," Cook purred (still not smiling), "and once you hear my changes I'm sure you'll accept the result.  Good night."

"Mrrrpfh!" all three prisoners on the bed complained/objected, squirming, twisting, and tugging on their tethers, but they were ignored by their captor.

Cook strolled to the bedroom door, turned off the overhead lights, and made her exit, locking the door behind her.  Click!  As the titanic TV was dark (as previously mentioned), the only illumination in the bedroom was the green glow of a couple of dim nightlights down near the baseboards on either side of the bed.

Nikki, Birdie, and Rosie heaved simultaneous sighs... and settled in to wait for morning... or possibly mid-morning.  It was their only option... that and worrying about their captive daughters... who apparently had been conducting a covert and totally unauthorized bondage game of their own!