by Van ©2022
		Chapter 6

Eventually, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed decided exercise period was over, ended her ascent to nowhere, and stepped back from the step-climber.  Nude and sweaty, she padded to the window-side lounge-chair, untied Tippi's kimono-tie-hogtie, helped her to her feet, then led her to the café table, where Coco's neatly folded clothes were still patiently waiting.  She rummaged in the pockets of her black designer jeans until she found her keys, unbuckled and removed Tippi's ball-gag, unlocked and removed her handcuffs, then gestured towards the dry sauna. "Go," she suggested (ordered).

Tippi swallowed, licked her lips, worked her jaw, and padded to the tiled shower area next to the sauna's cedar door.

Meanwhile, Eliza was walking (padding) on the running machine's rolling treadmill at a sedate pace.  The machine's dedicated control panel had chimed—Bong!—about three minutes earlier and the message "COOLDOWN" had appeared on the display.  Eliza suspected that had probably been Coco's clue that her cunning plan to force poor innocent, handcuffed, and ball-gagged Eliza to exercise was reaching its successful conclusion.  The final result was Eliza dripping with sweat, her boobs heaving as she panted through her ball-gag, her bare feet throbbing and complaining about all the bloody running, with her calves and other muscles in total agreement... and her wrists were still cuffed together behind her back.

Over by the sauna, Tippi endured the cold shower just long enough to get thoroughly drenched, paused to favor Eliza with a shivering, water-dripping expression of pathetic, pitiable trepidation, then disappeared into the sauna.

By this time, Coco had arrived at the running machine and was returning Eliza's ball-gagged scowl with her usual dimpled smile.  Both were shining with sweat, of course.  Apparently deciding to override the remainder of the machine's prescribed cooldown period, Coco stabbed the touchscreen's virtual CANCEL button.  With a musical farewell—Bing-bong!—the machine's program expired, the display went dark, the roller under Eliza's bare feet ground to a halt, and the motor stopped humming.

Still smiling her insufferable smile, Coco led Eliza to the sauna, joined her under the shower, and they both suffered the same icy, drenching fate, as per pre-sauna etiquette.  Only then did Coco unbuckle and remove Eliza's ball-gag, unlock and remove her handcuffs, drop the hardware and her key-ring on the floor, and lead her wet and naked young guest into the sauna.

Continuing proper sauna protocol, and so as not to burn their butts on the dry, hot cedar benches, Coco used a wooden bucket and ladle to wet down a section for Eliza and herself, including the sloped backrests.

As she sat on the wet wood on Coco's right (with Tippi on Coco's left), Eliza reflected that their hostess/captor had removed her restraints only after they'd shared the shower so she'd had no choice but to go halfsies on the punishing arctic downpour.  It was one more trivial example of the total control of every situation Coco seemed to enjoy with such relish.  Eliza heaved a sigh.  The part about Coco relishing Eliza's suffering wasn't quite fair.  Coco didn't gloat like a super-villain... much... but she was self-satisfied past the point of annoyance (in Eliza's humble opinion).

"How long are you gonna leave her down there?" Tippi inquired.  She was referring to Pepper and her current boxed and sequestered state, of course.

"And who might be this 'her' you're referring to, Tippi darling?" Coco purred, being deliberately and irritatingly slow.

"P-pepper," Tippi clarified.  "How many?"

Coco's smile widened.  "How many what?"

Eliza rolled her eyes.  "Stop it!  Hours.  How many hours?"

Tippi nodded in wide-eyed confirmation.

"I see," Coco chuckled.  "Well... I'm not all together sure."  She directed her smile at Tippi.  "How many hours do you think I should let my sister suffer for what she did to you?"

Eliza focused her frown on Tippi, as well.  "Don't fall for it," she warned.  "She wants you to give her a number so it'll all be your fault."

"Is that what I'm doing?" Coco asked innocently.

"Now!" Tippi blurted.  "Let her go now."

Coco's smile never wavered.  "At least let us finish our sauna."  She closed her eyes and settled back against the cedar backrest.  "Hmm... Let me decide.  I think... until after dinner.  I'll put you girls to bed, then release her."

"Before!" Tippi blurted.  "Please?"

Coco opened her eyes again.  "Very well, darling.  I'll release her just before dinner.  Around sunset."

"Told ya so," Eliza huffed.

Tippi blinked in surprise.  "Huh?"

"All those hours 'til sunset," Eliza clarified, "and now it's your fault."

Tippi's eyes widened in horror, then her pout morphed into a wounded frown.  "Shut up," she whispered, then closed her eyes and heaved a truly tragic sigh.

Eliza closed her eyes as well, letting her body soak in the intense, therapeutic heat.  Unless it had been her imagination, just after Tippi had ordered her to stop talking, a ghost of a smile had curled her partner's lips.  Maybe Tippi wasn't quite as rattled as she seemed.

"I'll give you girls a tour of the gardens when we're done here," Coco announced.

"After we get dressed, of course," Eliza muttered.

"Oh no, Tomboy," Coco replied.  "Exposing the skin to sunlight promotes the production of vitamin D."

Eliza didn't reply.  Neither did Tippi.  They both knew what Coco had said about vitamin D was true, but they didn't have to like it.

Vespini mansion had what Eliza and Tippi readily acknowledged were very nice gardens.  There were only a few actual flowerbeds, and most of the species thriving in the pleasing landscape were native to the region.  The lawn more-or-less blended into the surrounding forest.  It was all very natural.  They padded from venue to venue, with Coco pointing out the various plants.

All three were naked (and no doubt producing scads of vitamin D).  It was a sunny day, insects were buzzing or flitting about, and the occasional songbird swooped from tree branch to bush to lawn to tree branch, even though the mansion's birdfeeding station was on the far side of the mansion's greenhouse and indoor swimming pool.

Oh-by-the-way, the rubber-lined, hinged handcuffs were back around Eliza and Tippi's wrists, behind their backs, and the black-on-black ball-gags were back around their necks in ugly necklace mode.

Why?  Why else?  'Power, restriction, and manipulation,' Eliza fumed silently.  Tippi seemed unconcerned (but maybe still a tad fretful about nothing in particular).

"I've always wanted a 'Secret Garden' venue," Coco sighed as they neared the plantings near the greenhouse.  She smiled at her guests.  "Know what I mean?"

"Of course," Tippi beamed.  "Like in the story.  An English flower garden with roses and all the other usual species abandoned and left to grow wild.  I like that too, but..."

Coco grinned.  "It's not so easy in the real world.  Keeping invasive weeds from totally dominating the venue and choking out everything else is nearly as much work as caring for a formal garden... or so the landscaping company tells me.  Showing up now and then to mow the lawns, trim the verge, and prune a few overenthusiastic shrubs is one thing.  A proper Secret Garden would require the services of a full time gardener."

"You could do it right here," Tippi said, awkwardly gesturing with her cuffed hands to indicate the immediate area.  "You could have a dry-fit stone wall built, running from there... to there... then remove most of the lawn and lay out your plantings, still using mostly native species, but mixing in non-natives that you really like.  Also, a water-feature with a wet sand beach for the butterflies.  And build a warren of weasel and mouse-size chambers into the rock wall, for shelter, refuge, and nesting dens.  It would take a few years for everything to grow out, but it would be worth it."  She pointed at the nearest bank of windows (awkwardly).  "That's a sitting room, right?  You could rearrange the furniture and make it perfect for laying back, sipping tea, and enjoying all the action... by which I mean the bees, butterflies, birds, and flowers.  Have you ever seen a Short-tailed Weasel?  I think now they're officially called 'American Stoats.'  They're so cute!  Vicious little hunters, but cute."  Tippi noted that Eliza and Coco were staring at her.  "What?"

"When did you become such a gardening enthusiast?" Eliza demanded.

Coco simply smiled.

Tippi felt a blush warm her cheeks.  "I've always liked gardening," she said quietly.  "My mom and I used to grow roses and vegetables in our backyard.  Someday, I'm gonna grow a garden of my own."

"Perhaps you can draw up some plans for me," Coco suggested.

"Plans?" Tippi blinked.

"I know a nursery not too far from here that specializes in native species," Coco continued.  "We could make a day of it, enjoying the plants and consulting with the staff for ideas and suggestions.  They have a charming tearoom with a surprisingly extensive lunch menu."  She turned her smile to Eliza.  "Of course, I'd have to ask Pepper to stash poor Eliza here someplace appropriate until we return.  There are many options, and I'm sure she won't mind."

"I mind!" Eliza huffed, staring the proverbial daggers.

Coco's smile widened.  "I was referring to my sister," she purred.  As the saying goes, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.  Eliza found it infuriating.

Tippi was blinking again.  "I, uh, yeah sure, I mean no!  I mean..."  Her pout and blush intensified and she stomped a bare foot hard enough to make her pageboy sway, her breasts bob, and her ball-gag necklace bounce.  "Stop teasing me!"

Coco laughed, leaned close and kissed Tippi's cheek.  "I'm sorry, darling.  I couldn't resist.  I will take you to see the nursery, but it'll have to wait 'til after Eliza gets her first trip into town and you get your first chance to be sequestered.  It's only fair."

Eliza and Tippi exchanged infuriated and unsettled looks, respectively, then focused on their naked hostess.

"Let's continue the tour," Coco suggested (ordered), and led the way around the end of the greenhouse/swimming-pool.  They still had more than half the grounds to cover.

After the tour came lunch, and after lunch, Coco decreed they should all enjoy a nice relaxing dip in the swimming pool.  She mandated a half hour wait after eating, of course, then the girls got to see the inside of the greenhouse as well as the outside.  The pool was a generous, rectangular lap-pool, with tile colors chosen to emphasize the naturalistic/botanical setting.  A hot tub nestled in one corner at the shallow end.

Unfortunately, Tippi's suggestion that they change into appropriate swimming attire was rejected by their hostess.  Still nude but no longer handcuffed, they swam a few slow, lazy laps, but mostly just drifted around in the chlorinated water.  Neither Eliza nor Tippi were in the mood for splash-fights and/or playing grab-ass.  Coco proved to be a very good swimmer, by the way.  She glided through the water with effortless ease, like a pale-pink mermaid with pale-pink legs.  Eliza and Tippi were impressed.

After the swim, Coco led Tippi to a small library, pointed out the paper, pens, and colored pencils available in a writing desk drawer, and sweetly suggested she might like to start work on her plan for the proposed Secret Garden venue.

Tippi nodded and took it as an order.  (Besides, it would be fun.)  She watched from the desk as Coco locked one of the library's two doors—Click!—then crossed the room, smiled, waved, and make her exit through the other.  Click!  That was the lock turning, of course.  Tippi sighed, gathered her thoughts, and set to work.  She was still naked, but at least she was no longer handcuffed and wearing a ball-gag necklace.  That was progress... right?

Meanwhile, Eliza was cooling her heels in her guest bedroom in the first floor Patient Wing.  The door was locked and she was handcuffs and ball-gag-free, but still naked.  And just to check, she'd rattled the door of the wardrobe imprisoning her clothes and luggage.  It was locked, of course.  It was always locked.  And for all she knew, her luggage had been repacked while she was elsewhere, busy being the Vespini sister's naked, bound, and gagged house guest, and had been whisked away to a secret subterranean storeroom.  And come to think of it, she hadn't been to the garage recently.  Was her trusty Prius-C still there?  Or had it been driven to a shady used car dealer and sold?  Eliza knew she was being ridiculous, but couldn't help herself.

The disgruntled blonde decided a nap was in order, what with all the recent exercise, the garden tour, and "exhausting" swim—and for once it was her decision!  For some reason, that felt very satisfying.  She closed the drapes until only a three-inch vertical bar of afternoon light was allowed into the bedroom, padded to the bed, climbed between the covers, settled her tousled head against the pillow, and closed her eyes.

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

Click!  Eliza came instantly awake when she heard the bedroom door being unlocked and opened.  It was Coco (of course) and she'd changed out of her birthday suit and into... wait for it... bare feet, black designer jeans, and a black tank-top.  Her long brown curls were loose about her shoulders and framing her smiling face.  She looked stunning... which, for some reason, really pissed Eliza off!

"Time for dinner, Tomboy," Coco purred, then extended a hand and helped Eliza to her feet.

And then—"Bloody hell?"—Coco spun Eliza around, pulled her hands behind her back, and—Click-k-k-k!  Click-k-k-k!—closed her old friends the shiny hinged handcuffs padded with natural rubber tubing around her wrists!  "Why do you keep doing that?" Eliza demanded.

Coco grinned.  "For educational purposes, of course."  She then reached back into her other hip pocket and produced Eliza's other old friend, the ball-gag with the black silicon-rubber ball, black leather strap, and shiny steel buckle.  She buckled it around Eliza's neck in ugly necklace mode.

Eliza's reaction was predictable and unchanged.  "How thick do you think I am?" she demanded.  "You like being in charge.  I get it."

Coco's grin widened into a smile.  "You are so delightfully brave and defiant, Tomboy," she sighed.  "Such a joy to tease."  She kissed Eliza on her sullen lips.

"Stop that," Eliza muttered (and blushed).

"Make a pit-stop in the bathroom," Coco ordered, "then meet us in the kitchen for supper."  And without waiting for an acknowledgment or reply, the Mistress-of-the-Mansion left.

Eliza heaved an exasperated sigh, then stomped (padded) to the bathroom across the hall, successfully opened the door (despite her cuffed hands), then stomped (padded) to the commode and successfully emptied her bladder.  After awkwardly flushing the toilet, she padded to the sink and stared at her tousled hair in the mirror.  Unfortunately, thanks to the cuffs, restoring any degree of order to the spiky, straw-colored mess was quite impossible.  This did not improve her mood.

Eliza made her naked and cuffed way to the kitchen, expecting to find their hostess, her partner, and their junior hostess; however, Pepper was conspicuous by her absence.

"So, you were lying," Eliza said by way of greeting.

Tippi's brown eyes popped wide in response.  She was seated at the kitchen-nook table, naked, with her ball-gag around her neck and her hands behind her back.  Eliza assumed she was also modeling rubber-padded handcuffs.  It would go with Coco's sense of artistic symmetry.

"Lying?" Coco inquired innocently, then laughed.  "Oh, you're suggesting I didn't release my sister as promised?  I assure you she's the one doing the lying.  Pepper decided to skip supper and is currently lying down in her bedroom, recovering from her punishment."

Eliza was unimpressed.  "Ya mean she's recovering from lying in a box all day by lying on her bed?"

"Well," Coco chuckled, "when you put it that way... yes."  She gestured towards the table.  "Sit."

Eliza rolled her eyes and followed her orders, stomping (padding) to the breakfast-nook, then sitting next to her partner.  She noted that Tippi's wrists were, indeed, cuffed behind her back.

Dinner was oven-roasted chicken breasts with some sort of delicious creamy sauce, brown rice, and steamed broccoli, accompanied by a rich Chardonnay.

Coco was nice enough to uncuff Tippi's wrists so she could feed Eliza and herself, but was not nice enough to uncuff both her guests so they could both eat like normal, civilized, naked people.

Coco freed Tippi and together they shared the cleanup.  Eliza watched, her wrists still cuffed behind her back, glowering and contemplating the profound unfairness of it all.

Once the kitchen was spic, span, and ready for tomorrow's breakfast, Coco cuffed Tippi's wrists behind her back, once again, and led her nude and semi-helpless young guests through the mansion to a guest powder room.  There, she ordered the girls to take turns using the commode, scrubbed their faces with a washcloth, then led them away.  Dr. Winslow, Eliza and Tippi's dentist, would have been profoundly disappointed that their teeth hadn't received a thorough brushing with a proper fluoride toothpaste, but then, she wasn't there.

Next, Coco popped Eliza's ball-gag into her mouth—"Mrrf?"—and buckled it tight.  Then, she did the same for Tippi, who had watched with horror as her partner was gagged, but said nothing when it was her turn.

And then, Coco led her naked, cuffed, and ball-gagged house guests to her sister's bedroom door.

Eliza watched as Coco unlocked Tippi's right wrist, folded the cuff's hinge, and immediately re-secured it—Click-k-k-k!—around Tippi's left wrist, thus revealing a new form of bondage jewelry: handcuffs in ugly bracelet mode.  Coco then unlocked Pepper's bedroom door, planted a kiss on Tippi's ball-gagged lips, wished her "Good night," opened the door, shoved Tippi across the threshold, then quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

Eliza's brown eyes frowned at Coco above her ball-gag.  She was locking Tippi in with Pepper?  Was that in any way fair?  At least her friend wasn't handcuffed and thus, technically, not helpless.  She'd be able to defend her virtue (or her remaining virtue).  Eliza heaved a gagged sigh.  Now she wasn't being fair.  Tippi was virtuous... except, perhaps, in the tiny mind of some Victorian prude who had her head firmly lodged up her tight ass.  Eliza glared at Coco anyway, blaming her for everything, even her own ungracious thoughts.  It was the right thing to do.

And then, smiling her patented beautiful/sinister dimpled smile, Coco took Eliza by her right arm and led her away.

Tippi turned back to face the door as the key turned in the lock—Click!—and placed her hands on the hard wooden surface (including her left hand with its brand new, slightly heavy, spectacularly ugly, steel and rubber bracelet she would not have chosen for herself).  Then, she turned back to face the bedroom, leaving her back, butt, and the palms of both hands pressed against the cool, impassable portal.  She was expecting to confront Pepper Vespini (aka Mistress Pepper of the Grabby Paws) smiling and preparing to pounce.  Instead...

Tippi blinked in amazement, reached behind her neck, unbuckled the ball-gag still filling her mouth, and then (without knowing exactly why), re-buckled the strap on its first hole and let it dangle around her neck.  Yes.  By choice, Tippi was now wearing two items of ugly jewelry, a cuff-bracelet and a ball-gag-necklace!  The only reasonable explanation was that she'd been distracted by the totally unsuspected spectacle exposed on Pepper's king-size bed!

The spectacle was Pepper herself, naked, lying on her back on the designer bedspread, and with her limbs flung wide in a full spread-eagle!  And she had no choice in the matter!  Her wrists and ankles were locked in shiny steel manacles and shackles!  And hefty steel chains traveled to the foot and head of the bed, apparently secured to the bed-frame somewhere near the floor.  And just to be clear, even though she was a little distance away, Tippi could see that the steel hardware was not ratcheting cuffs and nestled link chains, like modern police handcuffs or ankle-restraints.  Pepper's ensemble was old-school, dungeon-grade, with barrel-key locks set into the thick, wide wrist and ankle cuffs, and the heavy-duty chain looked strong enough to give an elephant pause (briefly).

"Wow!"  Tippi was... amazed.

Also, Pepper was naked... totally naked.  Other than the wide steel bands closely locked around her wrists and ankles, the only other thing she was "wearing" was a wide strip of Elastoplast tape stretched and plastered across and against her lips and most of her lower face.  Tippi stared, mesmerized by the shape of Pepper's lips standing proud on the smooth, milky panel.  Her own lips had looked like that in the mirror, the last time she'd seen herself Elastoplast-gagged, and the effect on Pepper was the same.  It was... interesting.

Pepper had made no noise as Tippi made her involuntary entrance, and she said nothing still.  She simply favored her naked young guest (with her ugly jewelry/restraints and amazed expression) with her full attention.

By the way, Pepper wasn't centered on the gigantic bed.  Something like half the surface was available for a second party... like Tippi... and she realized that couldn't be an accident.  The bed was meant to be shared.  Tippi swallowed, nervously.  One might even say Pepper was meant to be shared... if one was naughty.  Tippi padded forward and gazed down at the prisoner-of-the-bed.

The cuffs fit Pepper's relevant anatomy to perfection, and all the edges were smooth and slightly rounded.  The spread-eagle was stringent... or maybe serious... but it didn't appear to be what Tippi would call cruel.  Pepper had a little room to wiggle.  The pose stretched her muscles, flattened her stomach, and encouraged her boobs to flatten.  As Tippi watched, Pepper tugged on her cuffs, kicked her feet, and tried to twist her hips.  It caused her breasts to quiver and shake in an intellectually engrossing manner.

"Where's the key?" Tippi inquired.

Pepper (her brown eyes smiling) heaved a tape-gagged sigh, shook her gagged head, and did her best to shrug.

Tippi got the message.  Coco had the key, which was hardly surprising.  Eyes locked with Pepper, she heaved a sigh, then... entirely of their own volition... her lips curled in a wicked smile.  That's right, wicked!  Tippie sat on the bed, close to the spread-eagled captive, and rested her right hand (the one without the ugly bracelet) on Pepper's flat, slightly stretched tummy.  "Your big sister intends for me to punish you myself, doesn't she?"

Pepper made no reply, other than to gaze at her naked young guest, her eyes smiling above her tape-gag.

It was such a wicked/mischievous scenario!  Tippi's hand began moving, slowly, across Pepper's cute bellybutton, to the top margin of her dark pubic bush, then back.  Like her smiling lips, the hand was operating entirely on its own.  Tippi was a disinterested bystander... or bysitter... if that was a word.  Anyway, it wasn't like Tippi wanted to do decadent, depraved, and/or degenerate things to poor Pepper, just because she was naked, bound, gagged, and completely vulnerable... and she could... and there was no one to stop her.

"I hope you're sorry you diddled my hoo-haw last night without permission," Tippi said, favoring Pepper with the appropriate degree of disapproval.  "That was very rude of you.  Most impolite."

Pepper was shivering, squirming, and tugging on her bonds.  Tippi considered this might be Pepper expressing remorse, embarrassment, and contrition, but realized the sensations engendered by her gliding hand might be a better explanation.

Tippi needed to have a serious discussion with her various body parts about the potential awkwardness of them deciding to do wicked things on their own without first securing permission from her brain.  Her hand had slid down Pepper's stomach, across her cute little umbilicus, through her pubic thatch, and was now sliding back and forth with her palm against Pepper's hoo-haw!  It was a replay of what had happened last night, but with the roles reversed!  And she (meaning Tippi's hand) had been doing it for several seconds before her brain noticed!

"Oh!" Tippi gasped, snatched back her hand like Pepper's pussy was the proverbial hot stove, and leaped to her feet.  "I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry!" she gasped, blushing and blinking in chagrin and embarrassment.

Pepper's reaction was to smile behind her tape-gag with renewed intensity.  She tugged on her bonds, again, nodded up at Tippi's fluttering hand, then down at her own crotch.  Her message was a kinky and unmistakable invitation.  As far as Pepper was concerned, Tippi needed encouragement, not forgiveness.

Still flustered, Tippi stared down at Pepper.  Why the hell did I do that? she wondered... then frowned.  "This has to end.  There has to be a key around here somewhere."  She started rummaging through the nearest bedside table.  Its drawers held next to nothing, and not a spare set of barrel-style and/or handcuff keys.  She padded around the bed to the other night stand.  There, she found what she thought was probably a touchscreen-type remote control... a tube of moisturizing lotion... and in the bottom drawer...

Tippi's eyes popped wide.  She was staring at:

●  A pair of steel clover-clamps, similar if not identical to the pair Coco had used on Pepper when she was in the box down below!

●  A pinwheel of shiny steel needles freely spinning on a curved steel handle!

●  A fur glove, which she realized was, of course, a fake-fur glove!

●  A large, clear plastic tube containing four or five large feathers, probably goose or turkey!

●  And finally, a wand-style vibrator nestled in a recharging unit!  And a glowing green LED suggested it was fully charged!

"Wow!"  Tippi realized she'd hit the jackpot!  Either that or she'd stumbled on a kinky treasure-trove-trap designed to overpower her character and/or moral fortitude.  If the latter was the case, it succeeded.

Tippi's wicked smile returned, she reached into the drawer, grasped the handle of the vibrator, and lifted from the recharging unit.  It came free with an authoritative snap!  She thumbed the switch—Click!—and the wand began to vibrate.  Hmmm...  Tippi then shifted her smile to Pepper.  "No key... but look what I did find."

Pepper tugged on her inescapable steel bonds, again.  Her brown eyes were still smiling above her tape-gag.

Tippi sat on the bed, again, still smiling sweetly (wickedly) and pressed the business end of the wand between Pepper's legs.  She been aiming for Pepper's clitoris, and by the nude, spreadeagled, and tape-gagged prisoner's reaction, she'd been spot-on.

Pepper squirmed and fought her bonds.  "Mrrrrrf!"  It was the first thing she'd "said" since Tippi's arrival.  After a few seconds of futile effort... a shiver shook her entire naked form... and she resumed fighting her bonds, but with greater enthusiasm.

Tippi was positive poor Pepper was actually trying to break the chains and put an end to her "torment."  She was not succeeding.  "She Hulk you're not," Tippi teased as she continued pressing the buzzing knob home.

"Mrrrf!" Pepper mewled.  Whether or not she was agreeing with Tippi's She Hulk remark was unclear, but it was clear that Tippi was on the right track, meaning the vibrator was properly positioned for her mischievous purpose.

Tippi continued smiling as she continued pressing the wand home.  Seconds passed...  Several seconds passed...  Well more than a minute...  Possibly two...  And finally, Pepper whined through her tape-gag, went rigid, again, and climaxed.  Was it a genuine orgasm?  Tippi would be the first to admit she was new at this forcing-orgasms-from-helpless-damsels game, but if Pepper was acting, it was a highly credible performance.

And then, suddenly...  All the tomatoes on the vine went ripe at once!  The horses bolted from the barn, taking the cows with them!  And all the chickens came home to roost!  Tippi realized someone who looked exactly like her had diddled Poor Pepper with a vibrating vibrator—then had abruptly vanished—leaving her (the real Tippi) holding the bag—and the vibrating vibrator!  Tippi thumbed off the vibrator in question and dropped it on the bed.  She was severely rattled!  Her inner goody-two-shoes had reasserted herself with a vengeance and she was horrified!

"Oh-oh-oh!" Tippi blurted, blushing at several strategic locations.  "I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry!"  Her heart was pounding and she had to remind herself to breathe!  Also, her nipples were flushed and pointing in severe opprobrium and profound disapproval.  Her hands fluttered about like a pair of hysterical pink doves, and she could think of nothing she could do to make any of it any better!  There was nothing she could caress or squeeze that would express her profound self-loathing and offer a sincere apology.

And then, glancing idly to the side, Tippi noticed a crystal decanter and a pair of upended crystal glasses resting on a silver tray which, in turn, rested on a chest of drawers.  It was full of an amber liquid she assumed was whiskey, bourbon, rum, brandy, or some other potent hooch.  Without really thinking about it, she leaped from the bed, scampered to the decanter in question, pulled the crystal stopper, and filled one of the glasses about half-full.  Her intent was to offer it to Pepper, for medicinal purposes.  She then took a sip to confirm that the liquid was potable—which caused her to cough—and she nearly spilled the rest of the glass.

It was brandy, Tippi decided, really good brandy, the hideously expensive kind that was aged in oaken barrels for a gazillion years by Benedictine monks in the Alps.

Tippi took another sip... then an actual gulp.  The brandy was smooth, smoky, and all the other adjectives she'd heard used to describe such stuff.  In short, it was gooood!  She took another gulp, then refilled the glass (this time three-quarters full), turned (carefully) and padded back to the bed.  Actually, she got halfway there, then retraced her barefoot steps and replaced the stopper back on/in the decanter, took another sip (gulp) to fortify her resolve—Slurp!—then turned and padded back to the bed.

There, Pepper was waiting, naked, chained in a spread-eagle, Elastoplast-gagged, a little sweaty. but none the worse for wear.  In fact, her big brown eyes were smiling.  It was hardly fair, in Tippi's chagrined but no-longer-all-that-apologetic opinion.  She took another hit of brandy while she decided what to do next.

The brandy had been meant for Pepper, to be sure.  That was why Tippi had so carefully transported the sloshing glass to the bed... but now it was only a little more than half-full—Slurp!—meaning a little less than half full.  Tippi frowned.  The remaining nectar wasn't enough to console Poor Pepper.  Tippi took another sip.  No, it clearly wasn't enough.  And besides, Poor Pepper's tape-gag was in the way.  She supposed she could always trek to the decanter for a refill... but it was an awfully long way back to that chest of drawers... then back to the bed.  Maybe she could do something else to make Poor Pepper feel better.

And then Tippi noticed the vibrator she'd left lying on the bed and against Poor Pepper's right hip.  "Purrfect!" Tippi said with a dimpled smile of her own.  "I'll apologize for giving her an orgasm by giving her another!"  (She'd meant that to be a thought, but realized she'd said it out loud, instead.)

Tippi took a final gulp of brandy to steel her resolve—Sluuurp!—a big one, then carefully set the now quarter-full glass on the nightstand, climbed onto the bed, lay beside Poor Pepper, embraced her from the side, smiled, lifted the vibrator for Poor Pepper to see, and flicked the switch.  Buzzzzzzz...  "This'll make you feel better," Tippi reassured the now wide-eyed captive, then put the wand to use.

This time, she entertained Poor Pepper's boobs... tracing figure-eight orbits of the twin globes... slowly spiraling in on her erect nipples... then did the same to her lower tummy (circling her bellybutton) and then her upper thighs... this time spiraling in on Poor Pepper's Pussy!  Tippi was sure she was doing a better job than before, meaning the initial Poor-Pepper-Pussy-Pressing she'd done pre-brandy... for which she was now apologizing.

Pepper shivered, tugged on her cuffs, kicked her chained feet, and squirmed in Tippi's embrace.  Their skin slid together as Pepper struggled, but it did nothing to help her escape.  One thing's for sure, Pepper thought, the kid's learning!

Tippi continued her apology, now concentrating all her efforts on Poor-Pepper's-Pussy... and her efforts seemed to be working.  The chain-restrained thrashing continued.  And finally, after several seconds (or maybe a few minutes), Poor Pepper went rigid in her bonds and squealed through her tape-gag like never before!  "Meeeeeee!"

Tippi had succeeded in her apology!  And either Poor Pepper had accepted the apology and had a crashing orgasm, or she was suffering some sort of seizure.  Thankfully, Poor Pepper resumed breathing (panting) and Tippi was reassured.  Yep.  Orgasm.  No question.  Now, Poor Pepper was really sweating.  Also, her labia were flushed and glistening... and her nipples were still pointing.

Tippi knew she could do nothing about Poor Pepper's Pussy.  It needed rest; however, Poor Pepper's naked pokies were another matter.  Tippi released her embrace, then leaned to the side to retrieve the glass of brandy.  She took a slow, careful sip, savoring the delicious liquor... then used the buzzing wand to tease Poor Pepper's Pokies... first the left... then the right... than back to the left.

Pepper's reaction was to tug on her bonds, shiver from head to toe, knit her brows and favor her tormentor (lover) with a resentful, tape-gagged glower.  "Mrrrrrm!"

Tipper either didn't notice Poor Pepper's disapproval, or was too busy enjoying the remaining brandy and toying with her victim's/playmate's flushed nipples to care.

And then, it happened.  The glass was empty.  Tippi carefully placed it on the nightstand, once again, then smiled at Poor Pepper's frowning face.  "I'll get you some later," she promised, then glanced at the distant decanter.  "But it's an awfully long way over there.  Know what mean?  I need to rest first."  Still running the buzzing wand over Poor Pepper's nipples, Tippi reclined on the bed, as before.  She finally turned off the wand and embraced Poor Pepper, resting her head on Pepper's left shoulder and outstretched arm.  She then discarded the vibrator between Pepper's splayed legs... where it rolled and came to rest against Pepper's right upper thigh with its rounded head just nudging Pepper's still flushed and glistening labia.

Just great! Pepper silently groused.  At least it's turned off.

"Later," Tippi mumbled, "I'll get'cha some brandy.  ...  Later."  And then, she closed her eyes.

Just great, Pepper reiterated.  She gets soused on my Hennessy XO, falls asleep, and I only get two lousy orgasms.  She heaved a gagged sigh, then closed her eyes as well.  But to be fair, that second one wasn't all that lousy.

Minutes passed...  And then...  "Schmaaaaagh!"

Pepper rolled her eyes.  Tippi was snoring.  She was also drooling out of the corner of her open mouth onto the slope of Pepper's left breast.  Just great, Pepper fumed.

"Schmaaaaagh!"

Actually, Pepper decided, it's kinda funny.

"Schmaaaaagh!"

Or will be in the morning.