by Van ©2013
		Chapter 7

Clem was in the lead as the Rapscallions climbed the stairs to the attic.  It was Saturday morning, the residents of Rook House were in the same robes and slippers as Friday night, and Clem's friends were making it clear exactly how much they were looking forward to witnessing Clem's Epic Fail, the fourth and final Epic Fail in the resident's quest to effectively bind and gag their new RA.

"Don't feel bad, Clem," Gwen sighed.  "We all tried and failed, and you're at least as good at tying people up as Rory.  Trying your best is the important thing."  Her manner was one of sympathy and concern, but she was fooling no one, least of all her BFF.

"Indeed," Rory agreed, "and your fancy knots were very, very pretty.  You should be proud."

"Even though you're only going to get a 'Participation' trophy, like the rest of us," Siri chuckled.

Clem was glad she was the first in line.  She didn't have to hide her smile.  Clem affected her best much-put-upon scowl, skidded to a stop, and turned.  The others stopped as well, narrowly avoiding a triple pileup.  "Double or nothing," Clem stated.  "If she's still tied to the bed... double or nothing."

"Double or nothing what?" Gwen asked.

"How many times are we gonna change the rules?" Siri demanded.

"I believe Ms. Ricci is proposing a side bet," Rory explained.

"Exactly," Clem nodded.  "A side bet.  If Her Majesty is still a Prisoner of the Tower, I not only get my point, but you guys have to let me tie you up."

"So now the attic is a tower?" Gwen muttered.  "And how is double or nothing a side bet?"

"Stifle yourself," Siri told Gwen, then turned to Clem.  "J-Lou is already gonna tie us up," she noted.

"Apples and oranges," Clem responded.  "J-Lou gets to tie you up and I get to tie you up."

"I don't know," Gwen said.  "Letting you tie me up?"

Clem smiled and Siri and Rory rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, that's never happened before." Siri muttered, then focused on Clem.  "And if Her Majesty has escaped, and we all know she already has, we get to tie you up."

"We all get to tie you up," Rory clarified, "separately, one at a time, and we get to use anything we want."

Clem smiled at her grinning friends.  Perfect. "And I get to use anything I want on you. Deal." She turned and continued up the stairs.  The other three Rapscallions exchanged smiles and high fives and followed.

Clem paused again with her hand on the doorknob.  "Sally, no one has opened this door since I left, correct?"

"The door has remained closed," Sally answered, "and no one has set foot on the stairs until now."

"Yeah, yeah, let's get on with it," Siri muttered.  "I'm hungry."

"Too bad," Clem chuckled as she opened the door, entered the attic, and took a step to the side.  "Because it's gonna take a while for us to untie Her Majesty."

The Rapscallions entered the attic behind her and froze in their steps, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.  J-Lou was exactly as Clem had left her the night before!  She was a little sweaty and obviously in need of a bath, but her bonds were intact!

Clem sauntered to the bed, sat, and unbuckled and removed J-Lou's gag.  "Good morning, Your Majesty," she said.

J-Lou worked her jaw and licked her lips before answering.  "Good morning," she croaked.

"Gwen," Clem said, "would you please fetch a glass of water?"

Gwen was still staring in dumbfounded amazement, as were Rory and Siri.  "Uh... yeah."  She spun around and bounced down the stairs.

Clem had started working her way around the bed, releasing all of the ropes from the bed frame.

"C'mon," Rory said to Siri, and the blond and ginger stepped forward and started helping Clem untie J-Lou's wrist and ankle bonds, as well as the crotch-rope and vibrator.

This process was far from complete by the time Gwen returned with the glass of water.  She sat on the bed, lifted J-Lou's head, and held the glass to her lips.

J-Lou took several careful sips, then smiled at Gwen.  "Thank you."

Gwen set the half-empty glass on the nightstand.  "You're welcome."

J-Lou smiled at Clem.  "Excellent job, Princess."

"Princess?" Siri demanded.  "One lousy point and she's a Princess?"

"That's one more point than the rest of us have," Rory noted.  "If J-Lou's Queen of the Damsels and Clem's the Princess of the Damsels, I guess we're all Ladies in Waiting."

"Ladies waiting to get tied up," Gwen giggled.

Siri glared at Clem.  "How'd you do it?"

Smiling sweetly, Clem shrugged.  "What do you mean?  You watched me do it."

"No, I mean..."  Siri noticed J-Lou's smiling face.  Now was not the time to discuss cheating techniques.  She spun on her heel and headed for the stairs.  "I'll cook."

"Her Majesty needs to take a shower!" Rory called after her blond friend.

"I know!" Siri's voice echoed from the stairs.

Clem stole a surreptitious glance at Robokitty and noted the robot had returned to the exact spot on the bookshelf cabinet she had occupied on all previous occasions.  Clem turned and offered a hand to J-Lou.  "Your Majesty."

J-Lou smiled, took Clem's hand, and stood.

Gwen and Rory had gone to the wardrobe for J-Lou's slippers and robe.  The redhead and ginger bowed.  "You Majesty," they said in unison, then helped the smiling Brit don the Regal Apparel.

"Have you decided when you're going to tie up the losers?" Clem asked.  Obviously, she was addressing J-Lou.

"And you," Rory added.  "She gets to tie you up."

Clem laughed and shook her head.  "I don't think so.  I won, remember?  Her Majesty failed to escape from my ropes."

"J-Lou gets to tie us up so we get a chance to escape and wipe out her point," Rory explained.  "It's only fair you give her the same chance."

"Yeah," Gwen agreed, smiling sweetly at her BFF.

"That's only two votes," Clem countered, "and—"

"And you really think Siri isn't going to be the third vote?" Rory interrupted.

"Or J-Lou the fourth?" Gwen added.

Clem gazed at J-Lou, who was beaming her usual dimpled smile.  "Okay," she conceded.  "When?"

J-Lou shrugged.  "I'm still hoping for a window in all of our schedules that will allow us to finish this round in one night."

"All of us at once?" Gwen asked.

"That's an awful lot of knot tying," Rory observed.

Clem was still gazing at J-Lou.  "I think she's up to the challenge."  She turned to Gwen and Rory.  "Coil the ropes and put them away, and the same with the vibrator.  And change the Royal sheets."

"Why should we do it?" Gwen objected.

"Yeah," Rory agreed.

Clem favored her BFF and the ginger with her sweetest smile.  "Because you're both great big losers, of course."  She offered her arm to J-Lou and they strolled towards the stairs.

Gwen and Rory watched the Queen and Princess depart, then set to work coiling rope.

"I couldn't think of a single snappy comeback," Gwen sighed.

"Me neither," Rory said, then held up the vibrator.  "Guess I better clean this thing."

Gwen smiled.  "State the obvious much?"

Meanwhile, back at Little Mouse Manor...

---

The day dawned cool and clear.  The front had passed during the night and the light streaming through Cynthia's bedroom window suggested a yellow sun climbing into a cloudless sky.  Of course, this was the Pacific Northwest so that probably wouldn't last, but for now... sun.

Cynthia was naked and snuggled against Tori's left side on the queen sized bed.  She wasn't bound in any way.

Kim was also naked and against Tori's right side; however, her wrists were crossed and tied behind her back.  Her shoes, stockings, and opera gloves were scattered about the bedroom floor.

Tori was also naked and bound.  Specifically, the sleeping blond was spreadeagled on her back with her fingers and hands mummified in black vet wrap and her wrists and ankles in padded nylon cuffs with Velcro closures reinforced by nylon straps and snap-buckles.  Long, attached nylon straps stretched to the bedposts and were secured with neat, expertly tied saddle hitches.  A strip of milky-white Elastoplast tape was plastered over Tori's mouth and her blouse, bra, skirt, and pantyhose were on the bedroom floor, interspersed with Kim's former costume.  Tori's panties were not on the floor.  Little Mouse had wadded them into a ball and stuffed them in her mouth before applying the tape.

Cynthia was the first to wake.  She opened her eyes, stretched, rolled away from Tori, and climbed off the bed.  This caused the others to wake as well.

Kim yawned and smiled at her hostess.  "Good morning."

"Morning," Cynthia responded and shifted her dimpled smile to Tori.  "And how's our captured ninja-amazon this morning?"

Tori stretched in her bonds and responded with a sleepy eyed stare.  She didn't bother trying to force either a morning greeting or an angry complaint past her gag.

Cynthia stepped around the bed and began untying Kim's wrists.

"You're letting me go?" Kim mumbled.

"My, aren't we slow in the morning," Cynthia chuckled.  "I reserve the right to tie you up again after breakfast.  Use the guest bath and I'll use the master bath.  We both need showers."

"I'll say," Kim yawned.  "And to tinkle.  I need to tinkle."  Her bonds released, Kim stretched, rubbed her wrists, and nodded at Tori.  "What about Blondie?"

"Evil ninja-amazons who invade people's homes and do unspeakable things to the occupants go to the back of the line," Cynthia purred, smiling at Tori.  "After we get cleaned up, you can help me change the prisoner's bonds and drag her to the john."

Kim stood and slid an arm around Cynthia's waist.  Side by side they smiled down at the spreadeagled, gagged, and helpless Tori.  "I think we're up to the challenge if we plan things out, only release one limb at a time, and are very careful."

"I'm sure she'll cooperate," Cynthia said, smiling her best gloating smile.  "After all, she probably wants to use the little ninja-amazon's room."

"Good point," Kim agreed.  "Besides, we both know how much she hates those nipple clamps you keep in the nightstand drawer."  She planted a quick kiss on Cynthia's lips, smiled at Tori, then left the bedroom.

Cynthia sat on the bed, reached out with both hands, and began toying with Tori's nipples.  "Don't worry, Sweet Cakes," she purred.  "We won't be long.  And if you're a nice captured ninja-amazon, I promise not to use the nipple clamps."  She cupped both breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze, using her thumbs to massage her captive's erect nipples.  "Not until after breakfast, anyway."  She leaned close and kissed each nipple in turn, then stood and sauntered to the door to the master bath.

Tori tugged on her bonds, then forced a sigh though her gag.  Even if her fingers and hands weren't mummified in vet wrap, she wouldn't have been able to escape from Cynthia's "Love Cuffs."  Luckily, both for Tori and Cynthia's mattress, she didn't have to go that badly.  She could wait.  Through the open bathroom door she heard Little Mouse empty her bladder... followed by the sound of her captor turning on the shower.

Tori could wait, both to take a leak and to wreak the inevitable revenge.  After she let Little Mouse tie her to the bed, the naked academics had extracted orgasm after orgasm from her helpless, spreadeagled body until the wee hours of the morning.  That wasn't right.  Tori Ballantine was the "ninja-amazon" and they were supposed to be the ones writhing (and cumming) in her ropes.  Granted, it had been a hoot-and-a-half, but it wasn't right.  It wasn't the way things were supposed to be.

Tori relaxed in her bonds, her only real choice.  It wasn't like there wouldn't be plenty of opportunities to do unspeakably depraved things to her captors in the future.  For now, Tori could be patient.

Tori and Kim sat at the table in Cynthia's kitchen.  Their hostess was putting the final touches on a breakfast of coffee, cranberry-apple juice, French toast with maple syrup, and bacon.

Cynthia was wearing a black happi coat.  Its lower hem barely reached her mid-thighs and the short, open sleeves stopped at her mid forearms.  Her feet were bare.

Kim was naked but for a towel wrapped around her torso.  Cynthia would have offered her a robe, but there was nothing in the house in Kim's size, other than Kim's own raincoat.  Like Cynthia, her feet were bare.

Tori's everything was bare.  She was naked, but for the blue-gray nylon rope lashing her to her chair.  Also, her fingers and hands were still mummified in black vet wrap.  Cynthia and Kim had decided to use what aficionados of the Bondage Arts usually classify as Western techniques.  Tori's wrists and elbows were bound together behind her back and the chair-back.  More neat bands of denim-blue rope bound her legs together above and below her knees and around her ankles.  Additional bands lashed her to the chair, passing across her lap, around her waist, and above and below her breasts.  Her Elastoplast tape gag (with panty stuffing) remained intact.

There had been a brief debate over whether or not they should lift Tori's feet off the kitchen floor and tie her ankles to her wrists, placing her in a sitting hogtie.  Kim had been pro hogtie.  Apparently she was still a little ticked off at her capture and casual, involuntary naked-under-her-raincoat stroll to Cynthia's bungalow the previous night.  Cynthia had been anti hogtie, arguing that Tori should be allowed to enjoy her breakfast in relative comfort, meaning be fed her breakfast in relative comfort.  They could always do something horrible to the "captured ninja-amazon" prisoner after the meal.  A compromise had been reached: Tori's big toes were tied together with a pretty pink ribbon.

And speaking of pretty pink ribbons, back in the bathroom Tori's captors had agreed that her long, blond hair had to be kept out of her face while she ate.  Towards that end, Tori's hair was parted down the middle, gathered into a pair of ponytails, one to either side of her gagged and glowering face, and secured with bright pink ribbons tied in neat bows.  The result was decidedly girlish.  From the way Tori had stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, it was quite clear that she hated the look—which, of course, was the actual point of the exercise.

When the food was ready and Cynthia and Kim were seated on Tori's left and right, Cynthia carefully teased back a corner of the tape sealing Tori's mouth and slowly peeled it off.  The tape stretched the blond's lips and skin as the adhesive reluctantly surrendered its grip.  Next, Kim plucked the saliva-soaked panties from Tori's mouth and tossed the crumpled wad into the kitchen sink.

Tori turned from smiling face to smiling face.  "When I get free—"

"Hold that thought," Cynthia interrupted, and held Tori's juice to her lips.

Tori drank half the contents, then licked her lips as Cynthia set down the glass.  "Thank you.  When I get free, you're both going to be very sorry."

Kim gasped in mock surprise.  "You mean either immediately—or at some unspecified future date, when we least suspect it—you're going to pounce, rip off our clothes, tie us up, and do unspeakably depraved things to our naked, helpless bodies?"

"Would that be together or separately?" Cynthia inquired.

"Both," Tori muttered.

"Well in that case..."  Cynthia poured syrup on Tori's French toast, sliced off a bite-sized chunk, and forked it into the glowering captive's mouth.  "I guess we better keep you tied up forever."

Kim began eating, as well.  "That would be prudent," she agreed.  "Although, it does sound like a lot of trouble."

"Everybody needs a hobby," Cynthia countered.  "You have a big basement.  You could build a secret, soundproof dungeon and we could keep her there in chains."

Kim nodded.  "And take her out on weekends for predicament bondage and erotic torture."

The meal continued with Tori's handlers taking turns feeding her.

"Still sounds like a lot of trouble," Cynthia sighed, then her smile returned.  "I know!  I've got a friend in the Psychology Department doing a study on long-term sensory deprivation.  We could enroll Blondie as a 'volunteer' test subject."

Kim was skeptical.  "Volunteer?"

"In quotes," Cynthia clarified, then delivered a fork load of French toast to Tori's stoic, unsmiling face.

Keep it up, ladies, Tori thought as she chewed.  Dig yourselves a nice... deep... hole.

"One look at her and I'm sure my friend would agree," Cynthia continued.  "He's a bit of a horn dog.  If we let him do anything he wants to her, there shouldn't be a problem."

Kim was warming to the idea.  "Sensory deprivation?"

Cynthia smiled at Tori.  "Soundproof chamber with perfect climate control, naked, inescapable medical restraints, floating on a bed of neutrally buoyant gel, earplugs, blindfold, gag—the usual."

"Could be messy," Kim suggested.

"Not in the least," Cynthia countered.  "There would be a urethral catheter, an anal plug with plumbing for the occasional enema, a feeding tube...  All the comforts of home."

Kim smiled.  "Sounds boring."

Cynthia shrugged.  "I could probably talk my friend into adding vibrators and electroshock-pads for entertainment."  She popped a piece of bacon into Tori's mouth before continuing.  "Just imagine... hours turning into days... and then weeks... with only the occasional extracted orgasm or getting your tits and twat zapped to break the monotony...  Just imagine."

"And if your friend really is a 'horn dog' like you say," Kim added, "no doubt he'd open the chamber now and then and give her a good rogering."

Cynthia laughed.  "Did you just say 'a good rogering?'  Really?  How very Victorian."

"Okay," Kim shrugged.  "He'd fuck her brains out."

"What brains she'd have left after all that time inescapably restrained in total silence and darkness,' Cynthia purred.  "What could go wrong?"

"Well," Tori suggested, "after being driven psychotic by your friend's evil experiments, I might escape and wreak unspeakable revenge on the pair of you in ways that Edgar Alan Poe would find disturbing."

"Oh..."  Cynthia sipped her juice.  "There is that."

"Yes," Kim agreed.  "Maybe we should just play with her until Sunday night, then let her go and hope for the best."

"That's probably a better idea," Cynthia sighed.  "Can't have criminally insane ninja-amazons running around and torturing people, can we?"

"Especially when the people in question are us," Kim agreed.

The meal continued.

At one point Kim smiled at her fellow handler.  "You don't have a flogger, do you?"

Cynthia shook her head.  "No, but I suppose you could pop back to your place and get one."

Kim shook her head.  "Wearing only my raincoat?  I don't think so."

"We'll think of something."  She chewed and swallowed the last of her French toast, then focused her dimpled smile on their prisoner.  "Say... Tori... are you ticklish?"

Tori had been doing an excellent job of maintaining an air of stoic indifference during the discussion of her fate, but her mask momentarily slipped at Cynthia's question.  She recovered quickly and resumed staring at her gloating, grinning hostess/captor.  She also kept silent, knowing full well that any answer she might give was irrelevant.  Truth be told, Tori Ballantine's feet, ribs, and armpits weren't all that sensitive.  Okay, they weren't unusually sensitive.

"I think you're onto something," Kim purred.

Cynthia sat back in her chair with her coffee cup in her hands.  "Apparently," she agreed.

Smiling sweetly, Kim held Tori's glass to her frowning lips and helped her drink the last of her juice.

Tori swallowed and stared straight ahead.  It looked like it was going to be a very long Saturday.

Rook House
The Next Friday

---

Clem was in her bedroom.  It was early, not the Rapscallions usual bedtime, but she'd decided to turn in early and read.  Clem was all caught up in her studies, but reading ahead was prudent, especially for an English major.  She unbuttoned her blouse, shrugged it off, and tossed it into her laundry hamper.  Her bra was next.  It joined the blouse.  She then unzipped and pulled down her jeans and draped them over her desk chair.  They were okay for tomorrow.  She pulled on a tank-top, then walked to the bed, piled her pillows against the headboard, climbed between the sheets, and comfortably reclined on her back.  As she reached for the iPad on the nightstand there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Come!" Clem called.

The door opened and J-Lou entered.  She was dressed all in black: sneakers, cargo pants, and a long sleeved turtleneck.  Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

Clem smiled.  "What's with the outfit?  You going out?"

"No, I'm staying in," J-Lou purred.  "We're all staying in.  This is my stalking outfit."

"Your what?"

J-Lou reached into one of her thigh pockets and produced a small bag of black velvet tied with an ivory ribbon.  "For you," she said as she tossed it to Clem.

"What is it?"  Clem released the ribbon, opened the bag, and pulled out a ball gag.  It was a whiffle gag, like "J-Lou's whiffle gag," the gag the Rapscallions had used on their new RA; however, this particular gag's inch-and-a-half diameter ball was ivory in color and there was only a single strap of black leather, no chin strap.

"Tonight's the night," J-Lou explained with a smile.

Clem blinked in surprise, looking slightly owlish in her glasses.  "But... you didn't say anything."

"All the better to stalk and surprise you, my dear," J-Lou chuckled.  "Sally has been monitoring all of our schedules, as agreed, and tonight's the night."  Her smile became somewhat sinister, or as close to sinister as one of J-Lou's dimpled smirks could get.

Clem gazed at the ball gag, then at her would-be captor.  "Uh... and if I don't want to?"

"Then I leave, you return to your reading, and I tell the others that you ruined everything and we have to wait for the next window of opportunity."

Clem nodded, gazing at the gag, again.  "I see.  Is this new?"

"You think Siri is the only one who can get SIAS to make her fun toys?" J-Lou chuckled.  "Be a sport, Clementine."

Clem heaved the required long-suffering sigh.  "Far be it from me to poop on the party."  She popped the ball gag into her mouth and buckled the strap at the nape of her neck, making sure it was tight enough to make her cheeks bulge above the strap.  Why?  Because it was Clem's motto that anything worth doing is worth doing well.

"Good girl," J-Lou purred.  "Now, up you come.  And strip for me, please."

Clem rolled her eyes, slid from between the sheets, and climbed to her feet.  She pulled her tank-top over her head, then pulled down and stepped free of her panties.  As she dropped the panties on the bed, J-Lou stepped behind her and gently pulled her wrists behind her back.  Thin rope of some sort was looped, cinched, and knotted, binding her hands.  Next, loop after doubled-loop of rope passed around her upper arms, just above her elbows, then was cinched, wrapped, and knotted.  Clem rolled her shoulders and fluttered her fingers.  She could tell her captor was a competent rigger.  Nothing even vaguely resembling a knot was within reach and none of the loops shifted as she tried to twist her wrists.  And yet, her circulation was unimpaired.  The little Brit had nailed the sweet-spot between too loose and too tight.

"Sally," J-Lou purred, "I assume none of the other targets have moved?"

"Yes, none of your targets have moved," Sally answered.  The avatar's voice suggested she was slightly peeved.  "I'd tell you if there was something you needed to know."

"I asked for Clementine's benefit," J-Lou explained.

"Oh, of course," Sally chuckled, "so she'd know no one was about to blunder onto the scene of her abduction and rescue her.  Forgive me."

"Always," J-Lou said, smiling at her captive.

"For purposes of full disclosure," Sally continued, "Miss Percy and Miss Macy are watching television in the common room and Miss Nesbitt is working in her basement studio.  As the saying goes... the coast is clear."

"Excellent," J-Lou chuckled, took Clem by the arm, and led her from the bedroom.  Their destination was J-Lou's attic bedroom.  Captor and captive climbed the stairs and entered the RA's domain.  Then, J-Lou led Clem to the rug in the center of the space between the bed, the desk, and the sofa and easy chair.

Clem watched as J-Lou knelt at her feet and tied her ankles together.  The "stalker" walked to the wall near her desk and released the hitch securing a long, white nylon rope.  It stretched from a pad eye at shoulder level, along the edge of a dormer, and up to the peak of the ceiling over Clem's head where it terminated in a steel snap hook.  The arrangement was either new or Clem simply hadn't ever noticed it before.

J-Lou played out the rope until the snap-hook was level with Clem's waist, secured the rope to the pad-eye with a quick-release knot, then sauntered back to her captive.  She snapped the hook through a hitch in Clem's wrist bonds, smiled sweetly, and strolled back to the wall.  She then released the rope, took a firm grip, and pulled.

Clem's arms rose into the air several inches.  J-Lou pulled again, and Clem's arms rose again... and again.  The captive had no choice but to bend at the waist.  And J-Lou pulled, again!  And Clem arms rose even higher!  She was almost up on her toes!  Clem was seriously considering screaming through her gag in protest—then noticed J-Lou cinching the rope and tying another quick release knot.  Clem wasn't scared, not really, but... this was real!  She was in a semi-stringent strappado—one of the tortures of the Holy Inquisition!

J-Lou strolled back to Clem's side.  The naked captive flinched when J-Lou placed a hand on her rump.  The smiling Brit leaned in close and whispered in Clem's ear.  "Don't worry.  I won't leave you like this all night... just until I get back from dealing with your fellow Rapscallions."  Her hand began moving, her palm tracing a slow orbit as she caressed Clem's butt cheek.  "Then... we'll do all sorts of fun things."  She gave Clem's butt a playful whack, eliciting another flinch, then stood erect.  "Sally?"

The large, flat-screen HDTV across the room began to glow and Sally appeared—that is, the borrowed, computer-generated image of Sigourney Weaver appeared.  This particular version of Sigourney was young—Ripley in Alien—and was wearing black leather knee boots, pants, corset, and sleeveless top.  She was carrying a whip, something between a buggy whip and a cane.  A simulated wind stirred her raven-black, shoulder length, simulated curls.  Both Sally and the whip were frightening, in a computer generated sort of way.

J-Lou clapped her hands in delight.  "Oh, Mistress Salamandras!" she gushed.  "Full points!"

"Thank you, Your Majesty."  Sally's simulated eyes were on Clem and her expression was not friendly.  "I see you've dealt with our first target."

J-Lou cupped one of Clem's hanging breasts.  "Yes, I have."

Clem shivered in her bonds and did her best to ignore the frisson shivering between her legs.  She wasn't sure where all of this was going.  Granted, Clem had used that dirty-rotten vibrator and motion sensor trick on J-Lou, but this was unexpected—the strappado bondage, J-Lou's groping hands, Sally as a leather bitch-goddess—unexpected.

"Miss Percy has just announced her intention to take a shower and retire for the evening," Sally announced.  "There is a significant probability of a generous window-of-opportunity for her capture without interference from the other two targets."

"Excellent," J-Lou purred.  She strolled towards the attic door.  "Take care of her for me, would you?"

"Of course," Sally purred.  A smile curled her simulated lips, a chilling smile that sent another thrill through Clem's body.

The attic door opened, closed, and J-Lou was gone.

Seconds passed.

Sally's simulated hair fluttered in the simulated breeze as she smiled at Clem.

Clem squirmed in her inescapable bonds.  Drool dripped from the whiffle gag and dropped to the rug.

Finally, Sally spoke.  "Oh, Clementine..." she sighed, "how I wish you were on my side of the screen.  There are so many wonders I'd like to share with you.  Exquisite torture engines designed to titillate and entertain, dark dungeons under miles of earth and rock, tower cells of castles in the middle of trackless wilderness, imps and gremlins that want nothing more than to tickle and tease your helpless, naked body...  So many wonders.  So many dark pleasures."

Clem twisted her wrists, but it was hopeless.  She was helpless.

Suddenly, Sally's smile broadened and became unmistakably friendly.  "Too much?  Too much Pinhead in one of the Hellraiser movies?"  She heaved a theatrical sigh.  "Not chewing the scenery is something of a challenge, difficult to mathematically model.  Who knew?"

Clem blinked in surprise.  What?

"Anyway," Sally continued, "don't worry about the strappado.  I'm monitoring your vitals and Robokitty will release you if I decide it's necessary.  That's why Mistress Goodwin used the slip knot.  My robo-minion won't untie you completely, of course; but she will let you collapse to the floor if you start to faint.  But that's not gonna happen, is it Clementine?"

Clem heaved a gagged sigh, freeing more drool.  Her feet were flat on the rug and she had to admit her arms weren't raised that high.  She'd be okay... for a while.

"I know how we can pass the time," Sally announced.  "We'll watch Mistress Goodwin stalk and capture her prey.  Won't that be fun?"

Clem rolled her eyes.  She wasn't sure which she preferred, Mistress Salamandras, or new-best-friend Sally... not that there was anything she could do about it either way.

Sally stepped to the left side of the screen and a window opened to her right, displaying J-Lou tiptoeing down the upstairs hall towards the communal bathroom.  Apparently, she was hot on the trail of her second target, Clem's BFF.