by Van ©2021
		Chapter 9

It's somewhat awkward to conduct a proper Early Tea when the two participants of highest social rank aren't eating (and are wearing bikinis), and the rest are eating (and are naked and box-tied with their hands encased in layers of stretch-wrap and white duct-tape).  There are few precedents and the accepted etiquette references are of no help whatsoever on the subject.  But somehow, Bernadette, Paige, and the youngsters (their precious prisoners) soldiered through.  Eventually, the last of the plates were cleared of yummy comestibles and the last rum drink sucked dry through its thin straw.  "Slurp."

"Okay, Mother," Alice muttered.  "No more excuses.  Why did your roar out here without any warning and ruin our Games?  You know we look forward to The Games all year... every year."

"Yeah," Chelsea agreed, nodding at her sister.  "What she said."

The remaining members of both teams watched their team captains with keen interest (and poorly disguised amusement).  Clearly, Paige was also interested (and she was overtly enjoying the Corbyn family "confrontation").

"Actually," Bernadette purred, "we discussed my reasons for being here, last Christmas."  She sipped the last of her drink.  "My presence here shouldn't be a surprise at all."

Alice and Chelsea exchanged a confused look... then Alice remembered.  "Mother!" she muttered.  "We told you!  Fashion Week in London is fine.  Christmas in Vienna is fine.  Skiing the Alps is fine... only not at Innsbruck or one of the other tourist traps... but lounging around an English castle in the middle of nowhere for a full month, making nice with your stodgy old friends?  Not fine."

"And the same goes for that stupid resort in the Caribbean," Chelsea added.

"Damosel Island is not a 'stupid resort'," Bernadette chuckled.

"Hah!" the sisters said in unison.

"We looked it up!" Chelsea crowed triumphantly.

"The Damosel Island website talks about snorkeling, deep sea fishing, and eco-tourism," Alice added.  "Also, all-you-can-eat shrimp buffets."

"Boring!" the sisters chorused.

"Granted, their public website is both plebeian and innocuous," Bernadette conceded.

"Possibly by design," Paige purred quietly.

"Certainly, by design," Bernadette agreed, also quietly.

"Boring!" the sisters reiterated.

"I like shrimp," Chelsea huffed, "but all-I-can-eat?  Every day?  For a month?"  She shuddered and shook her head.

"Tydwell Castle and Damosel Island are not boring," Bernadette responded.  "Tell them," she said to Paige.

"Tydwell Castle and Damosel Island are not boring," Paige said, perfectly deadpan, then left her chair, gathered the empty plates and glasses, and carried them to the serving cart.

Meanwhile, Ivy, Betty, Sophie, and Ripley were exchanging furtive, slightly perplexed looks.  Finally, Betty caught Alice's eye with an inquisitorial smile.

"Later," Alice stated.

"No, dear," Bernadette purred, "tell your friends how you turned down a month long vacation in either England or the Caribbean."  she indicated all present with a sweep of her right arm.  "A month-long vacation for all of you."

"England?" Sophie sighed.  "I've always wanted to see England."

Ripley rolled her eyes.  "Buckingham Palace, the changing of the guard, and tea with the Queen?  No thank you.  I don't look good in silly hats."

"Actually," Betty said, "I've always wanted to tour the Cotswolds and the Lake District."

Ivy frowned.  "Isn't the Lake District part of the Cotswolds?"  The others turned to her and she shrugged her cord-yoked shoulders.  "I watched a travel show on PBS.  Sue me."

"The Lake District is further to the north, dear," Bernadette smiled, "in Cumbria."

Betty shrugged again.  "Oh.  Now that I think of it, maybe they were in different episodes... of the show, I mean.  It's been a while."

"Dork!" Ivy jibbed her friend.

Betty considered her grinning teammate with great dignity.  "I am not a dork.  I am a PBS Nerd, and proud of it.  I have the t-shirt."

At that point, Paige stood, produced a pair of trauma scissors (from somewhere) and padded behind Sophie.  The other captives watched as Paige quickly and deftly untied Sophie's box-tie-cords... then used the scissors to carefully slice through the layers of duct-tape and stretch-wrap mummifying the smiling blonde's hands.

Once Sophie was completely free, Paige pointed to the serving cart.  "Push the cart to the kitchen and load the dishwasher for me.  Would you please?"

Sophie went up on her toes and kissed Paige's smiling lips.  "Of course."  She pushed the cart towards the Lounge doorway—"Eek!"—then giggled.  Paige had hurried her on her way with a playful swat on her naked rump.

Ripley was next.  Soon, her box-tie was untied and her hands de-flipperized.

"Coil all of this cord for me, would you?"

"Okay," Ripley agreed warily, "but not if you spank my butt."  She set to work, starting with her own former bonds and making sure the butt in question was out of Paige's range.

Next, Paige freed Betty... and then Ivy.  The only remaining prisoners were Alice and Chelsea, who exchanged expressions of exasperated angst as Paige returned to her comfy chair, sat, and smiled.

While their naked teammates finished coiling and stacking their former bonds and disposing of the ruined stretch-wrap and duct-tape hand-sheathes, the naked and still bound and flipperized Corbyn sisters heaved simultaneous and truly piteous sighs... then focused on their bikini-clad maternal unit.  "Mother!" they whined in perfect unison.

"Ripley, Betty," Paige said, still smiling, "would you handle volume control for me, please?"

Ripley and Betty exchanged smirks, then shrugged.

"Sure," Ripley answered.

"Why not?" Betty agreed.

"Don't you dare, you traitor!" Alice warned Betty, twisting her upper body and tugging on her bonds.  "Mrrrpfh!"  The perforated ball formerly around her neck was back in her pouting mouth and Betty was buckling the strap at the nape of her neck, under her hair and tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.

Chelsea was also unhappy.  "No!—Nrrrf!"  Ivy had restored her gag and was buckling it equally tight.

The naked, bound, and now ball-gagged sisters shifted their disgruntled, glowering gazes to their smiling mother.  Paige might be dishing out the orders, but Bernadette was the center of power.... the petite, bikini-clad, smiling center of power.

Bernadette affectionately gazed at her glowering offspring with serene, uh, serenity.

Paige pointed first at Alice... then at Chelsea.  "Aftercare!" she ordered, and clapped her hands.  "Clap-clap!"

Smiling broadly, Betty and Ripley took firm grips of their team captains' arms and started leading them away—but both Alice and Chelsea shook off their handlers, drew themselves up to their full heights, and stomped (padded) to their tragic fates, like the hero marching to the guillotine at the end of A Tale of Two Cities.  They were very brave.  It was moving.  Their teammates and Paige and Bernadette managed not to laugh.

"I'll send Sophie out to help when she's finished in the kitchen," Paige said to Ivy.

Ivy's reply was a broad smile and a sweeping bow... then she scampered after the others.  Paige and Bernadette were alone.

Paige focused on Bernadette.  "You realize, of course, that absolutely nothing has been resolved."

Bernadette smiled at her old friend.  "You mean, soon the girls will realize that, once again raise the topic of future vacations, and once again I'll be the center of attention?"

Paige rolled her eyes.  "I ought to tie you to my bed and tickle you silly," she purred.

"But if you did that," Bernadette countered, "the girls would be scandalized."

"There is that," Paige conceded, then padded close to her beloved former employer and current landlord and loomed over her tiny, smiling form.  "But if I gagged you well enough, they wouldn't hear your screams, would they?"

Still smiling, Bernadette gazed up at the menacing (sort of) redhead and blinked her big brown eyes.  "There is that," she acknowledged.  "Or... we could take another swim."

Paige stared at the smiling Bernadette for several seconds... then turned and padded towards the doorway.  "Do whatever you want.  I need to start on the barbecue.  And I need to get one of the girls to launder all of the dirty bikinis."

Bernadette smiled, then turned her gaze to the picture windows.  Out on the lawn, in the full sun, her daughters were being ruthlessly moisturized by Betty and Ripley.  Alice and Chelsea writhed on the grass with their respective teammates straddling their bodies and massaging their tan skin, rubbing some sort of oily lotion into their shoulders... necks... ball-gagged faces... abdomens... breasts... etc. 

Ivy was sitting nearby, her legs crossed in a semi-lotus, smiling, watching, moisturizing herself, and ready to spell one of the others if they needed a break.

Poor things, Bernie mused... then stood and padded towards the French doors leading out onto the patio.  She'd decided she would take another swim, and this time there wouldn't be any horny redheads with grabby hands and leering smiles hijacking her recreational agenda.

The barbecue was a big hit.  Everyone ate their fill of burgers, hotdogs, and grilled chicken, as well as potato, tossed, and fruit salad.  Alice and Chelsea remained naked, box-tied, flipperized, and wearing ball-gag necklaces (much to their dissatisfaction) and their teammates were back in their bikinis and neither bound nor gagged.  The lavender-purple and aqua-green bikinis were all freshly laundered, of course, and the girls took turns shoveling Paige's delicious cuisine into their team captains' pouting mouths, each feeder with their own gloating and teasing style, of course.  Sophie giggled, Ripley gloated, Betty teased, and Ivy was totally nonchalant.  Bernadette and Paige watched the fun as they ate.

Before the barbecue, the girls had had plenty of opportunity to discuss The Great Vacation Dispute among themselves.  They even removed Alice and Chelsea's ball-gags and grilled them (so to speak) for additional information.  Unfortunately, the Corbyn sisters didn't know much more about Tydwell Castle and the Damosel Island Resort than they'd already divulged.  Anyway, the girls gossiped as they helped Paige with the preparations, and when the delicious meal was over, everybody gathered around the fire pit built into the deck.  Paige was the only exception.  She was busy cleaning up.  (Sophie and Ivy had offered to help, but were refused.)

The final red-orange glow of a spectacular California sunset competed with the dancing flames of the fire to light the girls' and Bernadette's nearly naked (and the sisters' naked) bodies as they gazed into the flames.  Minutes passed in companionable silence...  And then...

"Well, get on with it!" Chelsea huffed.

"Get on with what, darling?" Bernadette inquired with a sweet smile.

"In her tactless and artless way," Alice drawled, "Chel is demanding you tell us why we should want to waste a month of our precious time in an English castle or at a tacky island resort crowded with white-haired retirees."

"That's it," Chelsea confirmed, "except for the tactless and artless part.  And it was a request, not a demand."

The sisters stuck out their tongues at each other and their teammates and mother smiled.

Bernadette sipped from her wineglass before answering.  "Jane Tydwell is a dear old friend.  She's also fabulously wealthy, and it's important that you meet Jane and her daughter, even if you are writers—of which I am very proud—and have no interest in following me into business."

"But couldn't we meet them, tour the castle, maybe spend the night, then go to London?"

Bernadette set down her glass.  "Tydwell Castle is historically significant and full of interesting, historical, and gorgeous furnishings.  It's one of the last significant English estates owned and occupied by a peer, not locked up in a trust, and without busloads of gawking tourists coming and going to pay the bills.  Tydwell Castle doesn't even have a gift shop.  It will take much more than a day to appreciate all that Castle Tydwell has to offer.  And finally, Lady Jane and Cressida are wonderful people and I insist you meet them."

Alice and Chelsea exchanged a look, sighed, then turned back to their mother.

"But... London," Chelsea muttered.

"We'll see London," Bernadette smiled.  "I promise."

"And everybody gets to come?" Alice confirmed, nodding at their surrounding friends.

"If they wish," Bernadette confirmed.

"Oh, they wish!" Ivy laughed, then noticed the stares of her fellow non-Corbyns.  "What?  Tell me you don't want to spend a month in a real English castle, I dare you."

"It would have been polite to wait until we all made our feelings known," Betty said primly, then turned to Bernadette and smiled.  "By which I mean hell yes!  Thank you!"

Sophie and Ripley were grinning and nodding their heads.

"I've always wanted to see the British Museum," Ripley sighed, "and the Tate Gallery."

"I've always dreamed of being a princess in a great big castle," Sophie gushed.

"Yeah, Princess Airhead," Chelsea jibbed.

Sophie pulled herself to her full height (5' 2") and dismissed Chelsea with a disdainful glance.  "Silence, peasant," she sniffed.

All present laughed.

"It's settled then," Bernadette grinned.  "I'll contact Lady Jane and tell her we're accepting her standing invitation.  Does everyone here have an up-to-date passport?"

Everyone nodded or blinked uncertainly.

"If the answer is no," Bernadette continued, "see to it.  I'll take care of all the other arrangements."

"You mean your already overworked staff will take care of all the arrangements," Paige chuckled as she joined the group.  "I take it next year's games are off and the invasion of England is on?"

Bernadette smiled and nodded.

"What about Damosel Island and all that shrimp?" Chelsea muttered.

"It will still be there when we return from England," Bernadette purred.

"Wonderful," Paige drawled.  "Okay, ladies."  "Clap-clap!"  "Everyone inside.  The bats are trying to keep the mosquitoes at bay, but you're all tempting targets.  Also, it's starting to get chilly."

"Or maybe too chilly for bikinis," Alice amended.

The group agreed, rose to their feet, and carried their wineglasses, highball glasses, or beer bottles into the mansion.

The last of the red clouds were fading fast, the first of the stars had already emerged, and various species of bat were, indeed, doing their fluttering best to rid the skies of bloodsucking insects.

It was totally unacceptable!  Totally!

Once they were inside and comfortably ensconced in the Main Lounge, Mother Corbyn still refused to tell her darling, devoted daughters anything substantial about Tydwell Castle.  They still had only a frustratingly vague idea exactly why the place would be such a blast.

As for Damosel Island, it was relegated to the distant future, to be visited after Tydwell Castle, Lady Tydwell, and her daughter, meaning not next summer, but the summer after at the very earliest.  Anyway, Alice, Chelsea, and their friends charmed, cajoled and tried every trick in their respective books to get Bernadette to divulge what was so really special about the castle, but to no avail.

"Will we get to cosplay Downton Abby?" Sophie asked at one point.  Mrs. B's only answer was a smile and a shake of her head.  "Oh," Sophie sighed in profound disappointment.

Paige was no help either.  All she did was sit there in her white bikini, sip her drink, and smile.

Unacceptable!

Alice and Chelsea exchanged a significant (but furtive) glance, and at their first opportunity had a clandestine and whispered conversation.  And over the course of the evening, similar secret discussions happened between the Team Captains and their troops.  Bernadette and Paige noticed nothing (apparently).

Finally,... sometime around midnight... the group made the collective decision to retire... and the mansion settled into quiet darkness.

Paige Livingston might be in her sixties, but she was physically fit and a formidable opponent; however, the combined Team Alice and Team Chelsea Bedroom Invasion Force were sure that six equally fit, battle tested, and bikini-clad amazons would be able to handle her (literally), and especially if they pounced on her while she was sound asleep.  And that was what they did.

The joint team strike force eased open Paige's bedroom door... tiptoed inside... eased the door closed behind them... then tiptoed to the bed.

Paige was, indeed, asleep.  She was also naked.  The retired redhead's habit of sleeping in the buff was known to the Corbyn Sisters, but not their guests.  The bedroom was only semi-dark, thanks to the moonlight beaming through the open drapes and a nightlight greenly glowing through the open door of the attached bathroom.  The poised attackers paused to make their final mental preparations (and appreciate their target's toned, lightly freckled, luscious body as Paige lay... sprawled and semi-exposed among the tangled top-covers of her bed... then executed their cunning plan.

"MRRRF?"

Paige came awake to find several more-or-less naked women holding her down on the bed!  And one of them was sitting on her stomach with her knees nudging her armpits, lower legs pressed against her ribs, and was stuffing a ball of foam into her sputtering mouth!  And the ball was followed by a wide strip of what felt like Microfoam tape!  Paige struggled and fought, but it was already too late!  Loops of cord were tightening around her wrists and ankles, and she was being stretched and lashed to the mattress in a stringent spread-eagle!

Despite the limited illumination, Paige was able to identify her attackers early in the assault.  Sophie's giggle and Ripley's signature "sinister grin" as she leaned forward and smoothed her tape-gag were irrefutable confirmation.  Ripley was the one sitting on her chest and gagging her mouth and Sweet Sophie was binding her right wrist.  Betty was binding her left wrist and Ivy her right ankle.  Chelsea was binding her left ankle and, apparently, Alice was supervising, smiling down at Paige from the left side of the bed, her hands resting on her hips.

"Mrrrf!" Paige complained again, this time with the imperious dignity appropriate to the occasion.  Twenty or more flat, uniformly tight (but not too tight) strands had been wrapped around each of her wrists and ankles and knotted where her groping and/or fluttering couldn't possibly reach anything important, and doubled strands bound her extremities to the four corners of the bed, tied to the bed-rail and/or corner posts somewhere near the floor and tight enough to dimple the edge of the mattress.  Her bonds were the same white paracord she'd procured for the abandoned Bondage Olympics, and she knew the stuff was also known as "550-cord," a reference to its 550-pound breaking point.  Obviously, she wasn't going anywhere.

And then, Paige's fingers and hands disappeared under layers of white stretch-wrap... followed by layers of white T-REX duct-tape!  She didn't bother offering any serious resistance, knowing that if she'd fought the flipperization process, all she'd have been able to accomplish would be ruining the neat, uniform, pattern of the overlapping wrappings, and nobody likes messy flippers.

Anyway... Paige was stretched, helpless, and naked.  Alice turned on the reading lamp on the bedside table, and Paige found herself surrounded by her half-dozen bikini-clad, smiling captors (except for Ripley, who was still sitting on her tummy).  The youngsters were very pleased with themselves.  They were adorable.  Paige wanted to hug and kiss every one of them, but at the moment that wasn't possible.

Betty and Ivy pulled the tangled top-sheet and light summer blanket out from under Paige's spreadeagled body and tossed them aside, while Ripley climbed off of Paige's body and sat on the left side of the king-size bed in a cross-legged, semi-lotus pose.  Sophie settled onto the right side in a similar fashion... then both members of Team Chelsea rested a palm on Paige's taut, stretched tummy.  Alice and Chelsea were standing on the left and right sides of the mattress, respectively, and close to the head.  Now both sets of hands were on their hips, and they were smiling (leering/gloating) down at their fellow resident of St. Ignatius Island.  Ivy and Betty were at the foot of the bed and were also smiling (leering/gloating).

"We're going to make Mother reveal everything she's so obviously hiding about Tydwell Castle," Alice explained, "and we didn't want you to hear her screaming, come roaring in, and spoil the fun."

Chelsea nodded at Sophie and Ripley.  "My loyal teammates volunteered to remain here and make sure you don't escape."

"We figure four of us are more than enough to handle a munchkin like Mother," Alice added, then turned out the reading light, plunging the bedroom into its former semi-darkness.

"Mrrrmfh!" Paige objected.  She had to protect Poor Bernie!  And the least they could do was take her with them so she could watch!

Meanwhile, Alice, Chelsea, Betty, and Ivy leaned close and kissed various parts of their prisoner's anatomy and wished her good night... then departed, easing the door carefully closed behind them.

Paige heaved a gagged sigh.  Well... this is unexpected.  And oh-by-the-way, Sophie and Ripley's hands were moving!  That is, the hands were slowly, gently gliding across Paige's stretched abdomen... from the base of her semi-flattened breasts... to the top margin of her dark red pubic bush!  She found herself shivering in response.  She couldn't help it.  Also, the foam ball filling her mouth and the tape sealing her lips prevented her from ordering them to stop and branding the blonde and brunette as the scamps, scallywags, rogues, and rapscallions that they so obviously were.

They wouldn't dare bring her to orgasm!  Paige closed her eyes and continued shivering.  They wouldn't dare!

The hands continued slipping and sliding, and the youngsters continued smiling.

Sophie yawned, politely covering her mouth with her free hand.

The gentle, teasing massage continued...

And then it stopped.

Paige opened her eyes and lifted her head.  Sophie and Ripley had still reclined against her sides, and now, by all appearances, they were asleep!  The very nerve!  She considered squirming and mewling and waking them up, but the blonde and her "Goth" companion had had a busy day.  Their hands were still resting on her tummy, their faces resting against her outer thighs, and their bodies snuggled against and/or atop her legs.  Paige closed her eyes, again, figuring she might as well go back to sleep.

Paige's last thoughts were about the diminutive matriarch of this branch of the Corbyn clan and the assault that was currently underway (or even over) in Bernadette's bedroom.

Bernie... you're on your own.

"Mrrrpfh?"

Bernadette's eyes popped wide!  She was under attack!  Someone was sitting on her stomach and pinning her hands to either side of her head!  A strong hand was pressed against her lips and lower face, forcing a ball of foam or sponge into her mouth, and stretching a strip of some sort of tape across her lips!  She was gagged!

"Mrrrmmf!"

It was Bernadette's habit to sleep in one of her extensive and expensive collection of designer negligées, and such was the case tonight.  It was a whisper-thin, lacy babydoll, with spaghetti straps and matching panties.  The lower hem barely reached her upper thighs, the entire ensemble left very little to the imagination, and was a very pretty shade of coral-pink (what there was of it).

The reading lamps on the left and right bedside tables clicked on and Bernadette could now see that her attackers were wearing lavender-purple bikinis!  No, one of them was wearing a jade-green bikini!  One had very dark skin, but the others had much lighter complexions, with healthy tans.  And there were four of them!  She was sure of it!  Four!

Finally, Bernadette came fully awake and realized she'd been gagged by Ivy and was being pinned to the bed by Betty and her daughters!  Alice and Chelsea!  Her very own offspring!

Bernadette was conflicted.  She was outraged, of course, but at the same time she was a little delighted that the girls and their friends wanted to play.  She decided to go with the flow, but then, it wasn't much of a decision.  Her attackers were strong!

"Mrrrf!"

Bernadette was flipped onto her stomach, her arms pulled behind her back, her wrists crossed, and thin cord was tightening and binding them together!  Her ankles were next.  More cord was tightening around them!  Now, she was bound hand and foot (as the saying goes), as well as being adequately gagged.

And then, Bernadette's bikini-clad captors flipped her negligee-clad body back over and arranged themselves as follows: 

          1.  Alice and Chelsea reclined on their sides against a pile of pillows with their bound and gagged mother reclined on her back in between.

          2.  Ivy sat to Bernadette's left with one leg across the captive's thighs, helping to pin her to the bed.

          3.  Betty sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed with Bernadette's bound feet in her lap and held in her firm grip.

"And now, Mother," Alice said, smiling sweetly, "you're going to tell us all the juicy secrets about Lady Tydwell and Tydwell Castle that you're so obviously keeping concealed.  Otherwise... my two charming assistants"—She indicated her smiling teammates with a graceful gesture—"will tickle you until you comply."

"What she said," Chelsea said, also smiling.  "Except the part about those two being my assistants.  Those two are her assistants.  My assistants are making sure Paige doesn't rescue you."

"We don't want to tickle you," Ivy sighed, "but she is our team captain."

"Yeah," Betty agreed, also sighing.  "It's tragic, really."

"Dreadful," Ivy added.

Betty shook her head.  "Pitiable.  We're very sorry."

Ivy shook her head as well.  "We feel terrible about it."

"Simply terrible," Betty agreed.

Bernadette's big brown eyes were wide as the proverbial saucers.  "Mrrrrf!"

"Oh, that's right," Alice said, "the gag."  She reached for the strip of Microfoam tape sealing her mother's lips, but Chelsea quickly slapped her hand.  "Hey!" Alice complained.

"Leave it on for a while," Chelsea purred.  "Let her get in the mood to talk."

"Oh, good idea, sis," Alice beamed, then shifted her smile to Ivy and Betty.  "Ladies... do your worst."

Ivy and Betty's fingers danced over the soles of Bernadette's feet (in the case of Betty), and the prisoner's thighs, ribs, and tummy (in the case of Ivy).

Bernadette bucked, kicked, squirmed, tugged on her bonds, and mewled through her gag, making herself a moving target and requiring all four of her captors to tighten their grips to keep her under control.  Her negligée-covered breasts wobbled and shook as she struggled.

The unconscionable, insidious tickle torture lasted a full minute before the tickling assistants relented.  Then, Alice gently peeled the tape from the maternal lips and Chelsea plucked the foam ball from the maternal mouth.

"You girls are in big trouble!" Bernadette huffed, after swallowing and licking her lips.

"Talk, or they'll do it again," Alice warned.

"What she said," Chelsea agreed.

"We," Ivy said, earning herself an inquisitive stare from the Corbyn sisters.  "We'll do it again," Ivy clarified.  "Betty and I aren't taking the fall for this attempted palace revolution.  We're all doing this."

"Okay, we," Alice conceded, then refocused on her mother.  "Talk."

"No!" Bernadette barked.

"Do it," Chelsea added.

"No!" Bernadette reiterated.

"Please?" Chelsea begged.

Alice rolled her eyes.  "Smooth," she muttered under her breath, then focused on her assistants.  "Do it again," she ordered, "only harder and longer."

Betty and Ivy exchanged a smile, then climbed off the bed, releasing their holds on Bernadette in the process.

"Do it yourselves," Betty suggested as she padded to the bedroom door.

Ivy was close behind.  "Yeah.  This is enough skullduggery for one night.  Goodnight Mrs. Corbyn."

"Yeah, goodnight Mrs. Corbyn," Betty added.

"You girls are still in big trouble!" Bernadette called after the bikini-clad duo, "but goodnight!"

"It's hard to find good help these days," Alice muttered as the bedroom door closed.  Chelsea nodded in agreement.  Then, the sisters rearranged the pillows until their maternal captive was comfortably flat with a pillow under her head, turned off the reading lights, then snuggled against their mother's still bound form.

"Goodnight, Mother," Alice said quietly.

"Yeah, g'night, Mommy," Chelsea added.

"Big trouble," Bernadette growled, then leaned close and kissed the tops of her rebellious daughters' heads.  "Very.  Big.  Trouble.  ...  Goodnight."