by Van ©2018
		Chapter 13

The Triumphal Return of the expedition to Mysterious Mountain back to Cedar Wind Farm happened about an hour after noon.  Truth be told, Jordan Price's return was triumphal, but Leda Brewer's was not.  The Poor, Pathetic Pack-Pony was in something of a dudgeon.  They had stopped at the pond along the way, as planned, and Jordan had enjoyed a leisurely and no doubt very refreshing skinny-dip in the cool and no doubt very refreshing waters, but Leda's Callously Cruel Handler had tethered her to a convenient tree so all she could do was watch as Jordan splashed around.  Nobody likes a grumpy pack-pony, but Leda felt she had every reason to be in a huff... and she was.

The wolfhounds were the first to realize their two-legged sister (and Swan, a friend-of-the-pack) had returned.  They howled and yodeled their greetings and bounded towards the backpackers.

Miriam noticed, of course.  She emerged from the kitchen smiling and wiping her hands with a hand towel.  "Welcome home!" she shouted as the dogs bounced and pranced, wagged their tails, sniffed crotches, and licked the backpackers' faces.

Jordan laughed and managed to fend off most of the canine affection.  She also hugged and petted her four-legged brothers and sisters and patted their furry heads and backs.

As for Leda, all she could do was squeal through her panties-and-bandana-gag, stutter-step in place on her booted feet, and try her best to twist and turn away from the canine snouts lifting her All-Ireland plaid sports mini-kilt and goosing her between the legs, from the front, back, and sometimes both at the same time.  She also tried twisting away from the happy hounds as they jumped up and licked her gagged and grimacing face, but the awkward bulk of her backpack and her bound wrists made avoidance impossible.

"Stop that, you crazy mutts!" Miriam chuckled, grabbing collars and dragging the dogs away from poor, flustered Leda.  The hounds continued milling around, panting and thrashing their tails, but did stop actively greeting Jordan's pack-pony.  "Welcome home," Miriam reiterated, hugging and kissing first her daughter... and then the Swan.  "Look at you," she said, smiling at Leda.

Leda glowered in return and said nothing, mainly because she was bandana-cleave-gagged (with panties stuffing).  Miriam's Swan was also a little embarrassed (for some inexplicable reason).  She was wearing boots and socks, but the boisterous canine greeting ceremony had revealed that she was naked under her kilt.  In addition, thanks to the dogs, the knot that should have been holding the two halves of her unbuttoned shirt together had come undone and the shirt was hanging completely open.  It still draped and covered most of her breasts (including her nipples, just barely), but the swaying chain connecting her nipple-stirrups was on full display.

"Where's Robin?" Jordan inquired (casually) as she looked towards the house.

Miriam's smile broadened.  Her eyes were on the chain swaying between Leda's breasts.  "I know all about your bet with the Swan, Pumpkin," she purred, then turned and planted a light kiss on her daughter's cheek.  "Sorry, darling.  You lost."

Jordan heaved a disappointed sigh.  "Unbelievable."  She focused on her mother's smiling face.  "Wait.  You're seriously telling me that little pipsqueak didn't wimp out?"  Her mother nodded, so Jordan sighed, again.  "I don't believe it."

"Cupcake has hidden strength," Miriam purred.  She was smiling at Leda.

Leda chortled through her gag and smiled back.  "Mrrrmfh!"  'Cupcake!'  I love it!  I'm gonna use it!

"Don't gloat, darling," Miriam chided the pack-pony.  "It's unbecoming."

"No, seriously," Jordan demanded.  "She never once begged for mercy?"

Miriam shifted her smile to Jordan.  "Nobody likes a sore loser."

Jordan shook her head.  "There's no way that little wuss—"

Miriam silenced Jordan by placing her right index finger against her daughter's lips.  "I didn't raise you to welch on bets, Pumpkin."

"I'm not welching on anything," Jordan huffed.  "I just don't believe it.  She's so... little."

"Like I said," Miriam purred.  "Hidden strength.  Cupcake is neither a wimp nor a wuss... but she is little."  She planted a kiss on the tip of Leda's nose.  "Like my precious petite Swan."

Leda winked at Miriam, then shifted her gagged smile to Jordan.

Jordan glowered in return.  "I'm taking a shower," she announced, then hefted her pack and trudged away towards the house.

"You need one!" Miriam called after her daughter, then turned to Leda.  "You do too, darling—but not just yet."  She hooked her right index finger through the chain connecting Leda's nipple-stirrups, then turned and headed for the barn.

"Mrk!" Leda yelped, and followed, because where Leda's nipple-stirrups go, so goes Leda.

The wolfhounds were in a quandary.  Their Alpha was headed for the barn with the Leda/Swan in tow, but their Beta was headed for the house.  Miriam was always interesting and both Jordan and the Leda/Swan were covered with all sorts of new smells; however, on occasion Jordan had been known to sneak snacks to her ravenous pack-siblings.  The collective decision was made and the wolfhounds followed along after Jordan, still panting and wagging their tails.

Robin was miserable.  She had no idea what time of day it was, but the breakfast window had closed hours ago.  Even lunch had been a no show.  Miriam had abandoned her!

Lying on the dungeon cell's sleeping-pad—her ankles shackled in cold steel (with a hefty hobbling-chain)—her arms folded behind her back, mummified with nylon stockings overlaid with overlapping layers of silver-gray duct-tape, and encased in a leather bag-binder (which included a strap that squeezed her boobs and pinned her upper-arms to her torso)—her neck locked in one of Miriam's three steel cable-collars (and thereby tethered to the dungeon wall)—Robin was helpless, naked, hungry, and abandoned.

At least the ball-gag is on necklace duty, Robin thought, and not plugging my mouth.  She then heaved the latest in an endless series of deep, dramatic sighs.

Soon after Miriam the Wicked Witch/Mistress had abandoned her to her Cruel Fate, Robin had shuffled over to the steel commode and availed herself of its fountain/bidet function to slake her morning thirst, then had taken her morning tinkle.  Sometime later she'd visited the commode again, this time to empty her bowels.  Thankfully, the bidet had proved up to the task of cleaning her nether region afterwards, but the well water feeding the commode was very cold.  By the time Robin was satisfied that she was spanking fresh (so to speak), her crotch was numb and she was half-afraid icicles might be forming.

Anyway, Robin survived the frigid ordeal, shuffled back to the pad, and settled in to wait for the breakfast (and lunch) that never came.

This is more 'advanced languishing,' Robin decided at some point.  Miriam hadn't characterized it as such.  In fact, the Wicked Witch/Mistress had just locked Robin in the dungeon and hadn't characterized it as anything.  She hadn't even said goodbye.  That said (or not said), it was obvious.  Robin's brief but stringent hogtie of the previous day had been Positional Advanced Languishing.  This was Temporal Advanced Languishing.  Miriam is letting me stew in my own juices.  Robin's stomach growled.  'Stew'...  Bad choice of metaphor.  She's letting me starve... in her dungeon.

Hours passed.  The glow emanating from the glass blocks walling off the cell's barred window wasn't helpful.  As the earth rotated there was no change in the angle of the indirect light, no indication of the passage of time.  The blocks glowed during the day.  The glow slowly faded to black at sunset... then slowly returned at dawn.  It glowed.  Robins internal clock was on its own.  Anyway...

Hours passed... and then...

Thunk! 

That was the sound of the outer door's bolt being drawn, of course.  "Finally!" Robin muttered under her breath.  She was going to give Miriam a piece of her mind for abandoning her like this, but only after she was safely out of the dungeon and on her way to the kitchen to enjoy a late lunch.  Wouldn't want to make the Wicked Witch/Mistress angry.  Miriam might decide her Cupcake deserved more Temporal Advanced Languishing.

Eeeeee!  The steel door squealed open, Miriam stepped into the alcove (still wearing the same pretty print dress as before and smiling her ubiquitous smile), and with her—

Robin's eyes popped wide.  What the hell?!  Right behind Miriam was Leda!  And her BFF was naked!  And locked in chains!  And gagged with a bandana!  And her mouth stuffed with something!  And she was holding a picnic basket!  And she was naked!

"Look who's back!" Miriam announced (unnecessarily) as she unlocked and opened the barred gate.  Eeeeee!

"Leda!" Robin gasped (unnecessarily) as her BFF shuffled past Miriam and into the cell.

Miriam closed the gate behind Leda—Eeeeee!—then stepped back into the basement.  "You girls have fun!" she said brightly, then closed the steel door—Eeeeee!—and threw the bolt.  Thunk!  She no doubt also secured the steel door's hasp and locked the high-security padlock, but as usual the door absorbed those sounds.

Robin stared at Leda.

Leda stared at Robin.

Robin noted that her BFF's chains were what she believed were variously referred to as slave-, harem-, or serving-chains.  There was a collar, a pair of manacles, and a pair of shackles, all linked together by a vertical chain with a generous hobble-chain between the shackles and a less generous connecting chain between the manacles.  The hardware wasn't as hefty as Robin's shackles and either her hobble-chain or the chain tethering her to the wall, but was quite obviously up to the task of robbing Leda of a great deal of her freedom of motion while being completely inescapable.  The collar, manacles, and shackles were also quite obviously "comfortable," meaning their steel walls were well-rounded, smooth, and not overly tight.

Leda shuffled over to the sleeping pad, set the picnic basket on the floor, then reached behind her head and fumbled with her bandana-cleave-gag.  Standing with her ankles together and bent slightly at the waist, her chains allowed her to part her hair and reach the knot.  She removed and tossed the still folded bandana towards the barred gate, plucked a pair of crumpled and saliva-soaked panties from her mouth, and tossed them in the same direction.

Robin stared at Leda.

Leda stared at Robin.

"Uh... hi." Robin said finally, staring up at her BFF.

"Hi," Leda returned the greeting, staring down at her BFF.

Robin sat up and squirmed towards the dungeon wall, making room for Leda.

Leda took the hint and sat, then arranged her chains and reached out and arranged Robin's collar chain off to the side.  "Glad to see me?" she inquired.

"Yeah."  Is she blushing? Robin wondered.  I think she is!  And then, Robin realized she was blushing too, which caused her to blush even more.  "I'm also disappointed," she added.

"How so?"

Robin managed a wry smile.  "I was sorta hoping for a rescue."

Leda smiled, shrugged, and tugged on her manacles.  "Sorry."

"You're a mess," Robin observed.

It was true.  Leda's hair was tousled and obviously in need of a good shampoo.  Her skin (including her face) was glistening, soiled with dirt, and slightly sunburned.  Obviously, she hadn't yet showered after her four days of backpacking and three nights of camping.

"You should talk," Leda countered, still smiling.

Robin realized that was also true.  She was also a mess.  She wasn't sunburned, but it was obvious she was overdue for a shower and shampoo of her own.  She shifted her gaze to the picnic basket (and her stomach growled).

Leda took the hint, opened the basket, spread one of two cloth napkins on the pad between them, then deployed a veritable feast in the form of a fresh-baked baguette, three kinds of cheese, a summer sausage, apples, a tin of smoked oysters, a tin of some sort of meat pâte, and a large (3 liter) bottle of red wine!  There was also a plate, a cheese knife (which was also suitable for slicing the sausage and apples), and a single stemmed wine glass.

"Oh, good," Robin purred, nodding her chin at the knife.  "We can use that to escape."

Leda gasped in scandalized shock.  "Threaten Miriam with a knife?" she demanded.  "Are you insane?"

Robin grinned.  "I was talking about tunneling to freedom."

"Oh," Leda sliced off a small hunk off the end of the baguette.  "Let's eat first.  I missed lunch."

"I missed lunch and breakfast," Robin countered.

"Yeah," Leda sighed, "the service down here has always sucked."  She popped the bread into Robin's mouth, then sliced off a small wedge of cheese and took a nibble.  "Yum!  Smoked Gouda!"  She chewed and swallowed.  "Or maybe Edam."

Robin also chewed and swallowed.  "Gimme!" she demanded, "and open the wine."

Leah grinned and held the remaining tidbit of cheese before her BFF's eager lips.  "Promise to tell me everything that happened while I was away?"

"Only if you tell me what happened during the trip," Robin responded, then lunged forward and chomped on the cheese.

"Hey, watch the fingers!" Leda chuckled, then began opening the wine.  Thanks to Miriam's foresight the bottle had a screw cap.  No corkscrew was required.

"Mother!" Jordan complained.  "Come back!"

She was in the barn, in one of the horse stalls, and was locked in the family pillory.

It was another of the many gifts her late father had given her mother and was a sterling example of rustic, elegant carpentry and joinery at their very best.  It had a stable base, was adjustable in height, and the pillory section held the occupant firmly but comfortably in place.  That is, the neck and wrist openings were deep, well-rounded, and tight without being overly tight.  Of course, "comfortable" only described the actual contact of the occupant's neck and wrists with the wood.  The position enforced by the device was not comfortable.  In fact, after several minutes, the bent-at-the-waist-and-leaning-forward position became downright uncomfortable.

"Mother!"

Jordan had been enjoying a long, leisurely soak in her mother's Jacuzzi (with churning bubbles and added bath salts) when her mother entered the master bathroom and smiled at her nude, wet, and luxuriating daughter.

"Enough is enough," Miriam purred, then leaned close, turned off the tub's Jacuzzi function, and opened the drain.

"Mother!" Jordan complained.  It was only then that she noticed the pair of Peerless handcuffs dangling from her maternal unit's left hand.  "I'm trying to get clean here."

"You're clean," Miriam chuckled as the water drained away.  She took hold of her daughter's right wrist.  "Up," she ordered, and helped Jordan stand.

"Mother!" Jordan whined as Miriam spun her around and deftly cuffed her wrists together behind her back.

Actually, Jordan was clean.  She'd started with a quick shower and shampoo to scrub and rinse off the trail-dirt, then dried, combed, and brushed her hair and pinned it up to keep it dry.  Soaking in the tub had been an indulgence.

Miriam used a fluffy towel to dry her pouting daughter's body, then led her from the master bathroom.

"Why are you being so mean?" Jordan demanded as she was dragged kicking and screaming (or maybe pouting and cooperative) through the house, out a side door, and towards the barn.

"I'm sure when the Swan has finished chatting with Cupcake down in the dungeon," Miriam explained, "she'll want to start collecting her winnings right away.  I'm simply expediting matters."

"Mother!" Jordan whined, again.

Once they were in the barn, Miriam led Jordan (Leda's winnings) to the "pillory stall," and then inside.

Jordan waited stoically (meaning nervously) as her mother unlatched and opened the pillory's top half, then unlocked her cuffs.  "This is mean," she huffed as she leaned forward and placed her wrists and neck in the appropriate openings.

"I've warned you repeatedly about taking Leda for granted," Miriam lectured as she closed the pillory, incarcerating her naked daughter in its wooden embrace.  "Your bet with the Swan was both ill-advised and selfish.  This visit was supposed to be about Leda and her roommate, the adorable and delightful Cupcake.  You had no right to horn in on the program, other than as my helper."  She turned the pillory's locking latch with a click, then gave Jordan's left butt-cheek a resounding slap.

"Ow!"

"You think about that while you wait for Leda," Miriam added as she knelt and ratcheted the cuffs around Jordan's ankles—Click-click-click-click... click-click-click-click—then stood, brushed the dust from her knees, and exited the stall, closing and latching its shoulder-height door behind her.

"Mother!" Leda complained.  "Come back!"

Jordan's maternal unit didn't come back.  In fact, Jordan heard the person door set in the barn's oversized double doors open... and close.  Jordan had been abandoned, naked and—to coin a phrase—pilloried.  She heaved a sigh.  At least the pillory was set at the correct height, meaning her feet were flat on the floor and the bent-at-the-waist-and-leaning-forward angle wasn't extreme.

The pillory (and therefore Jordan) was positioned in the stall facing the back wall, and there was a tall, shallow wooden cabinet mounted on the wall in question.  Other than the wall itself and the floor below, the cabinet was the only thing Jordan could see.  Its doors were currently closed, but Jordan knew it contained a variety of whips, paddles, and floggers, all hanging from pegs.  It also incorporated a second, much smaller sub-cabinet that contained feathers, a Wartenberg pinwheel, nipple-clamps, and various other diabolical instruments and devices designed to "entertain" the prisoner-of-the-pillory.

Unfortunately, Jordan knew that Leda knew all about both the pillory and the contents of the cabinet and sub-cabinet.  Jordan had not only shown them to the Swan, but had used them on her during a previous visit.

Jordan settled in to wait, but she didn't fill the time thinking about the ill-advised nature of her bet with Leda, as her mother had ordered.  Instead, Jordan started the preliminary planning for her post-bet-settlement revenge.  That is, she started mentally designing novel, cruel, and unusual steel devices she could (and would) make and use to incarcerate and/or torment a naked Leda Brewer once they left the farm and had returned to work.  It would be a win-win for Jordan.  She'd have new products to add to her section of the ever growing Archer Metals "hobby" catalog and she'd have her revenge for whatever Leda was about to do to her.

For Leda, of course, it would be a solid lose.

Meanwhile, down in the dungeon...

Leda delivered a detailed after action report documenting the Extreme Cruelty and Obscene Erotic Torment Jordan had perpetrated upon Leda the Virtuous Damsel—and by "detailed" I mean she grossly exaggerated the distress of her naked captivity while only strongly hinting at what had happened inside the zipped-together sleeping bags at night.  Leda hadn't actually lied, per se, but had emphasized Jordan's "perfidy" and her own "suffering" while giving the erotic shenanigans short shrift.

Robin wasn't fooled.  Leda was her longtime BFF and there was nothing wrong with Robin's bullshit filter.  She was sure Leda's narrative was largely factual, but wasn't buying the Swan's Innocent Damsel routine.  'Swan!'  I love that.  Jordan and Leda played at work, so naturally, Jordan and Leda had played on the trail, and Leda had been an active participant.  Robin refrained from rolling her eyes or shaking her head, but she knew Leda had had fun and was having fun now.

And then it was Robin's turn to tell the story of what had happened down on the farm while Leda was away.  She was straightforward and left nothing out; however, she was purposely vague about Miriam rigging vibrators to erotically torture her in the barn and making the proverbial hot-monkey-love to her in the Wicked Witch-Mistress bedroom.  That was private and none of Leda's business.  Also, Robin was still processing the sensual/personal aspects of what Miriam had done to her.  It was too soon.  Anyway, she didn't actually lie and there's no such thing as erotic perjury, so everything was hunky-dory.  Robin also left out the part where Miriam had alleged that Leda loved her.  No need to let that particular cat out of that particular bag just yet.  Maybe later.  Maybe much later.
 
Leda wasn't fooled either.  She knew Robin and she knew Miriam.  It was easy to fill in the blanks.  And if, on some future occasion, she decided she wanted to know more, she'd tie up her BFF and tickle the juicy details out of her.

By the time both narratives were complete, the overwhelming majority of the picnic had been consumed, including all but a generous slosh in the bottom of the wine bottle.  That was more wine than the BFFs usually consumed in one sitting, but storytelling (and listening) is thirsty work.  Anyway, they were both a little tipsy.

Leda cleaned up by re-stowing the wrappers, plate, knife, napkins, bottle, and wineglass in the picnic basket.  Then, at Robin's direction, she placed the basket at the designated pick-up station next to the barred gate.  (Leda was already quite familiar with Cedar Winds Farm Dungeon Etiquette, but she let Robin take the lead in getting things ready for Miriam's eventual return.)

And then, they settled in to wait.  The sleeping-pad was made for one, but the BFFs made do.  They snuggled together, heaved a collective sigh, and closed their eyes.  Actually, Leda did the snuggling.  She only had serving-chains to contend with.  Robin was more elaborately restrained.  She was the snugglee.

So...  Joint Temporal Advanced Languishing.

They waited and dozed... each with a full belly and a slight buzz... nude, helpless, and together.

....... zzzzzzz .......

It was only a brief nap.  Thunk!  Eeeeee!  Eeeeee!  The bolt was thrown, the steel door opened, the barred gate opened, and Miriam was standing in the dungeon, still wearing the same sandals and pretty print dress.  She was also... wait for it... smiling.

"Ahhh," Miriam sighed.  "Just look at you.  Such a cute, adorable pair."

Robin and Leda exchanged amused, indulgent smirks and rolled their eyes.

Meanwhile, Mirian had removed the light chain holding the key to Robin's steel cable-collar from around her neck and tossed it to Leda, then picked up the largely empty picnic basket.  "Meet me in the kitchen," the Wicked Witch/Mistress of Cedar Wind Farm ordered, then spun on her sandal-clad heels and left the cell.

The naked prisoners watched the maturely hot Miriam depart, then Leda used the key to unlock her BFF's collar, set the collar on the sleeping-pad, dropped the key and chain over Robin's head and around her neck, then straightened her smiling (and blushing) BFF's tousled hair.  "Guess we might as well," she suggested, climbing to her shackled feet and helping Robin climb to her shackled feet.

"Might as well," Robin agreed.

The captives clanked, rattled, and padded across the basement in Miriam's wake.

"Ya think she's still wearing the chastity belt?" Robin whispered to her BFF.

"I can't tell," Leda whispered back.

They clanked and clattered up the stairs, entered the kitchen, and found Miriam standing next to the kitchen table.  On the table was an empty cardboard box, a key-ring, and a pair of heavy duty blunt-tip shears similar to bandage scissors.

"You girls free yourselves and put everything in the box," Miriam ordered, "then scamper upstairs and get clean and dressed.  You can use the tub in my bathroom, if you like, but please don't make a mess."

"Clothes," Robin sighed.  "I remember clothes."

Meanwhile, with little difficulty, Leda had found the rather peculiar little key that fit her ensemble and was removing her serving-chains.

"It's over?" Robin inquired, focusing on Miriam.  "The experiment's over?"

"This experiment is over," Miriam chuckled.  "I'm sure there will be others."

Robin sighed in relief (with a soupçon of disappointment).  But Leda just got here!

Leda knelt at Robin's feet, fumbled with the key-ring until she found the right key, and unlocked her BFF's shackles.  She then stood, spun Robin around—"Hey!"—and started unlocking the many tiny padlocks securing the straps of the arm-bag-binder's many straps.

"Where's Jordan?" Leda asked as she unbuckled the now unlocked buckles and pulled the binder from Robin's arms.

"She's playing in the barn," Miriam purred.

Leda was staring at the tube of silver-duct-tape encasing Robin's folded arms.  She shook her head, then focused an even stare on Miriam.  "Overkill much?"

"You girls are so much fun," Miriam chuckled.

Robin looked back over her shoulder and the BFF's exchanged a rather pained smile.  "Yeah," Robin drawled, "we're a regular laugh riot."

"The proverbial barrel of monkeys," Leda agreed.

"The proverbial barrel of naked monkeys," Miriam chuckled.

The BFFs sighed, Leda used the blunt tip of the shears to probe under the tape, then began carefully slicing her way through the last of Robin's restraints.

Finally—naked, sweaty, and with smudged skin and dirty, tousled hair—Robin and Leda were free.

They looked each other up and down from head to toe... and smiled.  "Get her!" Robin shouted, and the BFFs pounced!

Miriam found herself under attack from a pair of grubby, naked "monkeys."  She was hugged, kissed, and tickled!  It was a disrespectful outrage!  She had no choice but to cringe and giggle.  This happened for several seconds... then the monkeys scampered from the kitchen, hooting and laughing.

"You girls just wait!" Miriam shouted after them, then smiled and dropped the newly shed nylons-and-duct-tape cocoon in the trash, picked up the box, and set about the serious task of returning the various items within to their designated storage locations.  "Cupcake and Swan, the Monkey Twins," she chortled to herself, smiling and shaking her head.  "So much fun."

Jordan was seriously considering matricide.  Not really, but her back was beginning to ache and standing in the pillory with her ankles cuffed together was getting very old, was not fun, and might be considered grounds for crossing her maternal unit off this year's Christmas list!

Then—Finally!—Jordan heard the sound of the barn's person door opening... followed several seconds later by the opening of the door to her stall.  Either Mother was returning to the scene of the crime or the Swan had arrived to start collecting her winnings.  Until whoever they were stepped into Jordan's rather limited field of vision, she wouldn't be able to tell.  There was a pause... Jordan waited... stoic, brave damsel that she was... and then...

"Eeek!  Stop that!" Jordan demanded.   Several drops of... something had landed on her back, and now a smooth, warm hand was sliding up and down her spine, spreading the drops into an even layer!

"I said stop!" Jordan repeated, squirming in the pillory.

It was a massage.  Some unknown party was rubbing some sort of oil or lotion on her back.  Then, the first hand was joined by a second!

"Who's there!" Jordan growled.  She knew perfectly well the hands gliding over her shoulders, back, and arms belonged to Leda.  "Eeek!"  It certainly wasn't Mother!  One of the hands had passed between her butt-cheeks and thighs and was massaging her pussy!  "I said stop!"

The hands didn't stop.  In fact... hands one and two were joined by hands three and four!

Jordan scowled and squirmed.  Obviously Leda and her diminutive twerp of a BFF were the perpetrators of this outrage.

"Sorry, darling," Leda's voice announced.  "Mother's orders."

"What?" Jordan huffed.

"Your mother ordered us to take care of your sunburn," Leda explained.  "I already rubbed aloe lotion on my skin."

"I helped!" Robin's voice added, confirming her presence.

"Yes, you did, Cupcake," Leda agreed.

"I certainly did, Swan," Robin said solemnly, and the diminutive geeks giggled.

Jordan rolled her eyes and managed not to vomit in disgust.  The BFFs were doing a thorough job of moisturizing and medicating her skin, a very thorough job.  Both her upper and lower body received attention.  This continued for a while... with no further comments from the pipsqueaks.  At one point hands reached around her bent-over body and moisturized her breasts and tummy.  Again, they were thorough, especially with respect to her semi-pendulous breasts.

And then, one of the pairs of hands broke contact and Leda stepped into view around the side of the pillory, smiling a disgustingly smug smile.  She had two things in her oily hands: a plastic tube of lotion and a handcuff key.  "I'll let you do your own face," the grinning little twerp purred.  "You'd probably bite my fingers if I tried."

"Good call," Jordan growled.  She noted that Leda was clean, including her hair, and was wearing a pretty sundress.  She looked downright vivacious.  It was nauseating, as was the Swan's radiant, self-satisfied smile.  She watched as Leda set the lotion and handcuff key on top of the whip, paddle, and flogger cabinet.

Leda stepped directly in front of Jordan and leaned close, mimicking her bent-at-the-waist posture but with her hands on her knees.  Her smiling face was mere inches from the pilloried prisoner's glowering visage.  "Your mother sends her regards and orders you to stop messing around in the barn and report to the kitchen for supper.  I left the key to your pretty ankle-bracelets right there," she added, pointing behind her at the cabinet, "so you won't have to mince the entire distance to the house."

"How very thoughtful of you," Jordan muttered.  "I'll take it into account while I decide how I'm going to torture you."  This elicited a giggling response from Robin. the petite, unseen dingbat still behind the pillory and moisturizing her naked body.  "That means you too, Cupcake," Jordan huffed.

Robin continued giggled.  Leda continued her humiliating smile.

"That reminds me," Leda purred.  "Your mother also decreed that I'm not to start collecting on our bet until morning, so all this pillory nonsense doesn't count.  It's between you and Mommy Dearest."

"In general," Robin intoned, "I've found it good policy not to get involved in other people's family disputes."  She was still moisturizing Jordan's breasts.  At this point it was arguable that the breasts in question were over-moisturized and the kneading and squeezing was totally gratuitous.

"I quite agree, Cupcake," Leda giggled.

"Thank you, Swan."

Leda stepped from view, Jordan heard the click of the pillory's latch being released.  Then, the top beam lifted and Leda and her accomplice giggled and scampered away.  The sound of their much amused passage faded as they no doubt skipped the length of the barn... passed through the barn door and out into the night... and were gone.

Jordan eased herself from the pillory and began the laborious process of mincing around the wooden structure with careful, tiny, steel-impeded, barefoot steps.

Ow, ow, ow, ow...

Jordan appreciated a good prank as much as the next naked, pilloried, and ankle-cuffed damsel, but that didn't mean she'd forego plotting her revenge.  And now, Robin Clery (aka "Cupcake") had added herself to the list.

Ow, ow, ow, ow...

All I have to do is find an excuse to give Cupcake a tour of Archer Metals, Jordan thought... at closing time... on the Friday of a three-day weekend.  The Swan will already be waiting in my workshop, of course.

Ow, ow, ow, ow...

She finally reached the cabinet, fumbled for the key, then bent at the waist, planted her naked butt against the closed cabinet for stability, and carefully unlocked the handcuffs from around her ankles.  She set the key and empty cuffs atop the cabinet, next to the half-full tube of moisturizer.  Then, in accordance with her loving mother's orders, she moisturized her still scowling face.  Jordan didn't bother squeezing additional lotion from the tube.  There was more than enough of the oily fluid to do the job already coating her excessively moisturized boobs.