by Van ©2022
		Chapter 7

Unbeknownst to Eliza, she was missing the show.

The justifiably grumpy (in her opinion) blonde had graciously allowed herself to be led to Coco's bedroom, and once inside, she'd further allowed Coco to change her into what Coco explained would be her "pajamas for the evening."  Everything in the ensemble was black leather with shiny steel hardware, and the individual components were:

●  A single-sleeve armbinder.  Whether or not it was the same accessory Tippi had worn earlier (and had told her about at breakfast), Eliza had no way of knowing, but her delicate nose didn't detect the odor of dried Tippi-sweat, so either it was a different armbinder or it had been cleaned in the interim.  She didn't know.  Anyway, it zipped closed, trapping her arms behind her back.  Retaining straps yoked her shoulders, crisscrossed above her boobs, then buckled to the top of the binder after passing under her armpits.  A pair of secondary and totally superfluous straps tightened around her wrists and elbows.  The encasement was skin tight and pressed her elbows together, even before Coco tightened the elbow-strap.

●  A body-harness.  It was three steel rings in a vertical row interconnected by narrow straps.  The first ring was above Eliza's breasts, the second below, and the third directly over her bellybutton.  Two more straps yoked her shoulders (passing over the armbinder straps already yoking her shoulders), then converged on the first ring.  A short vertical strap connected the first and second rings, a second short strap connected the second and the third ring (aka the "bellybutton-ring"), and finally, a long vertical strap ran down her back, between her body and the armbinder, dove between her legs, cleaved her butt-cheeks, got very friendly by nudging and threatening to part her labia, then buckled over her lower tummy, just under the bellybutton-ring.  Finally, three horizontal straps, also attached to the steel rings, encircled her torso and arms and buckled tightly over the armbinder.

●  Ankle-cuffs.  The cuffs were wide, padded, and featured narrow, ribbon-like, ancillary foot and big-toe-binding straps than secured by means of tiny buckles.

●  Four additional unattached and narrow straps.  They encircled Eliza's legs at her mid-thighs, above and below her knees, and her mid-lower-legs.

And finally...

●  An ISOLATION HELMET!!  It covered Eliza's entire head, lacing tight up the back, anchored a silicon-rubber plug in her mouth, and had thick padding over the eye, ear, and mouth regions.  A pair of steel grommets centered over Eliza's nostrils allowed her to breathe.  And needless to say, once it was in place, she was effectively mute, blind, and deaf!  A horizontal strap held in position by riveted tabs buckled over the padded eye-region and around Eliza's head, and a similar vertical/slightly-diagonal strap passed under her chin and buckles across the crown of her head.  Finally, the helmet incorporated a wide collar, which Coco buckled around Eliza's neck.  And that was that.

Oh by the way, Coco had inserted wireless earbuds in Eliza's ears before encasing her cranium in tight leather, and Eliza had let her do it without protest!  Her reasons were twofold:

(1)  She'd already been armbinder-bound, body-harnessed, and leg-strapped all the way down to her big toes before Coco produced the earbuds and before she produced the helmet.  Resistance was futile (to coin a phrase).

(2)  Whining was Tippi's thing.  Eliza's forte was Brave Stoicism, and it was important for each of them to maintain their roles.  Otherwise, their cunning plan to seduce Coco into granting the interviews might fall apart.  Eliza made a mental note to emphasize the topic of roles and responsibilities at their next opportunity.  It was something they hadn't formally talked about before, but had simply fallen into their Whimpering Damsel and Courageous Heroine personas naturally.  Coco and Pepper seemed to like it, so they should keep it up.  Anyway, even if Eliza wanted to change her mind and try her hand at whimpering, begging, and pouting... it was too late.

Coco watched as her naked, leather-bound young guest squirmed, wiggled, rolled, kicked, and generally tested her new restraints.  Coco's smile was truly wicked, far too wicked to share with either Eliza or Tippi when they weren't blindfolded or hooded.  And then, Coco changed into her own pajamas, which were nothing.  Nude and smiling, she piled the pillows against the headboard, hauled her guest up onto the guest half of the improvised backrest—"Mrrrf?"—then lay back against the pillows herself.

Next, Coco produced a palm-size tape recorder with a wireless Bluetooth connection to Eliza's earbuds.  She pressed the "►" button... and a recording of one of the few extensive interviews Coco had ever granted began droning in Eliza's ears.  The volume was low (Coco had made sure of that), but by her reaction, Eliza was not happy, because Coco's captive audience resumed wiggling and squirming.  The fact that during their preliminary negotiations Eliza had mentioned that she'd already heard the interview in question and expressed her fervent opinion that she could do much better might have had something to do with it.  That was Coco's suspicion, anyway.

And that brings us to the aforementioned "show" that Eliza was missing.

Coco donned a pair of wireless headphones, picked up the touchscreen remote control for her bedroom electronics, and began sliding through menus and stabbing virtual buttons.  As a result...

■  The overhead lights winked out and the bedside reading lamps softened to a soothing glow.

■  A large, framed print directly across the bedroom rolled into the ceiling, revealing an 86", high-definition, flat-screen television.

■  The television screen glowed to life... then resolved into a bird's-eye view of Pepper's bedroom with the camera centered on the bed.  ...  Make that a voyeuristic bird's-eye view.

Pepper and her guest for the evening were in sharp focus, and the evening was unfolding exactly as Coco had arranged.  To coin another phrase, Coco loved it when a plan came together (as long as it was her plan).

Pepper was naked, tape-gagged, and spreadeagled on the left side of her bed, just as Coco had positioned her.  She was pleased to see her little sister hadn't succeeded in picking the locks of her heavy, thick-walled, steel restraints, nor had she snapped the attached chains.

As for poor, innocent Tippi...  Their other young guest was slurping expensive brandy and using Pepper's own wand-style rechargeable vibrator to diddle her little sister's pussy!

Coco would have loved to have watched every no doubt fascinating second of the buildup to Pepper's current "ordeal," but she'd been busy zipping, buckling, and lacing Eliza into her pajamas.  Not to worry.  Everything was streaming to the mansion's servers, all the way back to the point where Coco had tucked Pepper into (or rather onto) her bed for the night.  She'd review the earlier part of the file later... at her leisure.

On the screen, poor, innocent Tippi had paused to take another sip of brandy... and now had resumed despoiling Poor Pepper.

Hmm...  Coco had a decanter of Hennesy XO of her own on a nearby cabinet.  Maybe later, she decided, and settled in the enjoy the show.  Her brown eyes on the screen, she draped one arm over Eliza's strap-yoked shoulders, then hugged her precious prisoner close from the side while gently squeezing Eliza's breasts with her other hand.

"Mrrrfh!" Eliza complained in response.  It was unclear whether she was protesting the embrace and boob-squeezing, or resented Coco interrupting her concentration as she listened to the fascinating out-of-date and not-at-all-penetrating interview involuntarily droning in her ears.

Eventually... morning arrived.  Eliza had dozed off with the involuntary interview recording still droning in her ears... and had slept surprisingly soundly, all things considered.  And now, starting with her big-toes, somebody (probably Coco) was gently unbuckling her many and various black leather bonds.  She (Coco) worked her way up Eliza's body, leaving the isolation helmet for last.  That's how I would have done it too, Eliza reflected.  She wasn't at all sure why she was thinking about how she would handle the binding and unbinding of a naked captive—as if she was the villainess involved in the unjust treatment of a naked house guest—but she was.  It was weird.

Anyway, eventually, the helmet was unbuckled and unlaced... and Coco (it was Coco) eased the slimy black rubber plug from Eliza's mouth as she pulled the loose encasement free.

Eliza blinked in the early morning light.  Her face was sweaty, her mouth slobbery, and her hair a damp, tousled mess.  Also, Eliza was totally free!  No, seriously!  Free!  Naked, but not bound in any way!

She watched with a wary eye as Coco (smiling her trademark dimpled smile) gathered all of her former black leather "pajamas," carried them across the bedroom, and deposited them atop a low cabinet.  Coco was already dressed in her uniform-of-the-day—bare feet, black designer jeans, and black tank-top (with pokies)—and her hair was neatly brushed in the usual manner.  By all appearances, Coco had been up for some time, long enough to take a shower and get dressed, anyway.  And she was making no effort to prepare a pair of the infamous rubber-tubing-padded-hinged-handcuffs for imminent use.  Nor was she prepping a coil of rope or cord, sorting through a handful of plastic cable-ties, or making any other move to tie up a naked damsel.  Go figure.

"Why don't you use the bathroom, darling," Coco suggested (ordered).  "And when you're ready, breakfast is in the kitchen, as usual."  And with that, she made her friendly/tyrannical exit.

Eliza watched Coco depart with knitted brows, flashing eyes, and lips pouting, her first scowl of the day.  Then, she did the only thing logical: she went into the bathroom, drank a glass of water, emptied her bladder, then enjoyed a long, hot, gloriously invigorating shower.  Once she was clean (and grew tired of luxuriating under the veritable monsoon of hot water), she toweled herself dry (including her hair), then blow-dried said hair and brushed it into semi-submission.  She frowned at her reflection in the mirror.  Maybe I should get it cut, she thought, then shrugged and left the bathroom, ready for breakfast.  She was nude and spanking clean—and the Vespini Sisters better not even think about giving anybody a spanking

Eliza padded towards the bedroom door, then she paused, turned, and faced the door to Coco's walk-in closet.  Her lips curled in a mischievous smile.  Why not?  Eliza padded to the closet, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Clothes.  Lots of clothes.  Mostly black, but there were splashes of color.  So many choices, and it was quite obvious everything was hideously expensive.  Eliza could tell.  She might not have rummaged through the racks to confirm her suspicion, but what items she could see were clearly (probably) designer-label and top-of-the-line stuff.  Hardly surprising.  So... what to wear?

As long as she was commandeering her hostess' attire without permission, she might as well do it right.  There was something to be said for an over-the-top statement... like showing up for breakfast in a formal evening gown... or possibly a power-suit (high heels, stockings, skirt, blouse, and jacket)... but Eliza decided to go casual-at-home, like Coco (and probably Pepper), only as she would dress, not depressingly and ominously Goth-black from head to bare toe.

Eliza rummaged until she found Coco's panties drawer.  90% of the neatly folded panties inside were black (big surprise), but other colors were available.  Eliza chose "naughty red."

Next came a pair of stretch-jeans.  They were denim-blue, slightly faded, and conspicuous in their lack of blackness.

Finally, Eliza chose a very pretty sleeveless, bandeau-style top with spaghetti-straps that converged to form a "V" between her boobs.  No bra.  The blouse was summer-weight, somewhat fluttery, and far too loose to invoke pokies.  The print was a mottled mass of mostly blues and greens that reminded Eliza of one of Monet's famous "lily pad pond" paintings.  Very impressionistic, she thought, and it goes perfectly with the jeans... and my eyes.  Eliza admired herself in the closet's triptych mirrors.  She was showing nearly all of her shoulders (99%) and the ensemble suited her (in her humble opinion).  Tippi would like it, and as for the Vespini Sisters... they could just deal with it!

Still smiling, Eliza left the closet, then the bedroom, then padded through the mansion to the kitchen.  Sunlight was streaming through the open drapes of the various rooms (once she left the Patient Rooms Corridor, which had a few windows, but was totally lacking in drapes).

Present at Eliza's destination were Coco and Pepper (both dressed in standard Vespini-sister-at-home uniform), and Tippi, who appeared to be the only person in the mansion not wearing clothing.

That's right, Tippi was naked.  Also, her wrists were cuffed behind her back and a ball-gag plugged her mouth.  The cuffs were their old friends the hinged-cuffs with rubber-tubing-padding, and the ball-gag was a standard, black, 1½" spherical mouth-plug, black leather strap, and shiny steel buckle.  Eliza could see the details because Tippi 's back was to the door and she was standing by the breakfast nook, gazing out at the garden.  She turned when Eliza appeared, blushed, and dropped her embarrassed gaze to the floor.  Typical Tippi.

"G'day all," Eliza said, waiting for the sisters to react to her blatant attired insubordination, the fact that she was wearing borrowed (stolen) clothing without permission.

"Good morning," Pepper said, beaming a happy smile as she broke eggs into a large bowl, then began beating them with a wire whisk.

"Good morning, Tomboy," Coco added, also smiling broadly.

Eliza was disappointed.  That's it?  She'd been prepared for anything on the spectrum from bellicose outrage and demands that she strip immediately, to disapproving frowns accompanied by the disappointed shaking of heads.  Instead... nothing but cheerful greetings.  Bummer.

"I'm glad you've finally decided to join us," Coco chuckled.  "Unfortunately, you've missed an entertaining drama.  At least you're in time for the actual meal."

Eliza frowned.  "Uh... drama?"

"Naughty Tippi was a very bad girl last night," Coco purred, gazing at the bad girl in question.  "I'm sure she'll tell you all about it, sometime when she isn't gagged, of course.  She's readily admitted her guilt—which I'm taking into account in her favor, of course—and has agreed to accept her punishment with good grace."  She paused to fill a mug with hot coffee, handed it to Eliza, then continued.  "You missed everything, Tomboy.  You shouldn't have dawdled in the shower."

Eliza's frown deepened and her hands curled into tight fists.  "If you think I'm gonna let you do anything to hurt her, guess again."

"Hurt her?" Coco grinned.  "Oh, Tomboy.  I wouldn't harm a hair on her head."

"Good one, Sis," Pepper laughed as she dumped the eggs into a sizzling hot skillet, then smiled at Eliza.  "We hire people for that sort of thing."

Eliza was now confused and angry.  "What the hell does that mean?" she demanded.

"All will become clear," Coco purred, then gestured to the breakfast nook.  "Seats."

Eliza and Tippi settled into their usual chairs (Tippi a little awkwardly).  Eliza reached out to unbuckle her partner's ball-gag, but was stopped by their hostess.

"None of that," Coco scolded with a smile as she sat in her chair.

"Gagging and un-gagging naughty school girls is my job," Pepper chuckled as she carried a platter of now scrambled eggs to the table, then sat as well.

Eliza waited (with a patient scowl) as Pepper distributed eggs, bacon, toast, and skillet potatoes to the four plates.  "Well?" she demanded.

"Well what, darling?" Pepper inquired sweetly, then glanced at Tippi.  "Oh!  Silly me."  She then leaned across the table, reached around Tippi's head, unbuckled the ball-gag's buckle, and extracted the ball from Tippi's mouth.  The blushing brunette Bad Girl was now wearing the "traditional" ball-gag necklace.

Tippi licked her lips, worked her jaw, and stared down at her plate.

Eliza waited for her naked and cuffed companion to say something, but she didn't.

"The food is getting cold," Coco purred, "and if you're waiting for Tippi to say something, she's under a gag order until further notice."

"Gag order," Pepper chuckled as she loaded her fork with eggs.  "You're in rare form this morning, Sis."  She popped the eggs into her grinning mouth, chewed, and swallowed.  "Oh, delicious!  My compliments to the chef."

"You may feed your wayward friend, if you wish," Coco said to Eliza, "but no talking."

Eliza heaved a sigh, and then, scowling her usual disgruntled scowl, Eliza did just that, alternating bites of the admittedly delicious food between her mouth and Tippi's.  Coco and her sister were in charge.  And clothed or unclothed, bound or unbound, Eliza Callahan was a bit player in their ongoing melodrama.

Actually, there was a little conversation over breakfast, but neither Tippi nor Eliza took part.  And to the girls, the only important table-talk took the form of a couple of pronouncements by She Who Must Be Obeyed, all made after the food was consumed and Pepper was gathering the plates and loading the dishwasher.  The pronouncements were:

1.  After a half hour to settle her stomach, Tippi would take her daily exercise in the gym.  No other details were forthcoming, but Eliza wouldn't put it past Coco to make Tippi trudge to nowhere on the running machine, just as she'd made her endure the treadmill yesterday, naked, hands cuffed behind her back, and ball-gagged.

2.  Today would be Eliza's "off day," just as yesterday had been Tippi's turn to forego exercise and relax—relaxation taking the form of being hogtied and ball-gagged while Eliza exercised, of course.  Eliza had a sneaking feeling that her immediate future did not bode well with respect to her current lack of restraints.

While Pepper continued with the cleanup, Coco crammed Tippi's ball-gag back into her mouth and buckled it tight.  She then took hold of Eliza's hand and led her from the kitchen.  Naked, cuffed, and ball-gagged, Tippi remained behind.  Eliza looked back over her shoulder at her partner and Tippi met her gaze in shared condolence... and that was that.  They were separated again.

Coco and Eliza's destination was the Mistress Bedroom, and once there—

"Strip."

Eliza rolled her eyes.  The order was hardly unexpected.  She pulled the "Monet-lily-pads-pond-colored" top over her head and tossed it on the rumpled bed, then unzipped and peeled down the jeans and tossed them on the bed as well.  The red panties were next... and Eliza was now as naked as the proverbial jaybird (or Tippi, who was probably be on her way to the gym under Pepper's supervision).

"You may hand me the panties," Coco purred.  "Then, as I noticed you were careful enough not to get any food on my blouse during breakfast, you may hang it and the jeans back in the closet where you found them"

Eliza rolled her eyes, again, then padded to the closet with the clothing in question and carried out her orders.  When she returned to the main bedroom, Coco pointed to the bed.

"Make it."

So now I'm a naked housemaid, Eliza fumed, but carried out that order as well.  When the bed was neatly made, Coco stepped behind her and—"Hey!—cuffed her wrists behind her back with her old friend the hinged handcuffs with rubber tubing padding!  "Dammit!  Do you have to—Mrrrpfh!"  Coco had spun her around and stuffed the red panties in her mouth!

"Be a dear and don't spit those out," Coco purred.  She then led Eliza to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and produced a roll of Elastoplast tape and a pair of bandage scissors.

Eliza watched in naked, sullen compliance as Coco pulled a seven-inch strip from the roll, snipped it free, then plastered it over her pouting lips.  The red bikinis were a bit of a mouthful, but not too bad.  They did make her wish she'd borrowed one of Coco's thongs instead, either that or had decided to go commando.  In any case, it was too late now... for going commando or spitting out the red panties.

Naked, cuffed, and tape-gagged (with red-panties-stuffing), Eliza was led from the bedroom, down the hall, and away from the main mansion.  After a series of turns they came to a set of narrow stairs and took them up to the second floor.  The journey continued, and by this time Eliza was thoroughly turned around.  They'd passed a few windows, but all with their gauzy, translucent, inner drapes drawn.  Maybe they were over the "lived-in" part of the mansion, or maybe over one of the "unused" patient wings.  She had no idea.

Finally, they arrived at a featureless door, the same as all the others they'd passed, and Coco produced her barrel-key, unlocked and opened the portal, then led Eliza across the threshold.

The room beyond was large and square.  The walls and ceiling were painted black and the floor was covered with black tiles.  As for furnishings, a bank of ebony, built-in cabinets filled most of one wall, and opposite the cabinets was a café table and a pair of chairs, all in black.  All the drawers and cabinet doors sported the ubiquitous barrel-key lock-plates, and a deep sink with a small mirror mounted on the wall above was set in a recessed alcove in the center of the cabinets.  There were four round, vertical, floor-to-ceiling posts or stanchions evenly spaced around the room.  They were essentially six-inch diameter versions of the steel support columns Eliza wouldn't be surprised to find supporting the ceiling joists of a residential basement, but why the architect had felt the need to have them installed in this particular location, she had no idea.  The ceiling was crisscrossed by metal tracks with attached mini-spotlights, most of which were focused on a large object in the center of the room, equidistant from the four posts.

The object in question was hidden under a white dust cloth, but by its general shape Eliza suspected it was some sort of large chair... or throne.  In any case, she had immediate concerns not directly related to mysterious shrouded furnishings.  Specifically, Coco had led her to one of the posts, unlocked her left handcuff, backed her against the cool, black-painted steel, then re-cuffed her wrists behind the post!

And Eliza let her do it, of course.  It was one more reason to be angry with her hostess (and herself).

And then, Coco took a couple of steps back, smiled her infuriating but undeniably beautiful dimpled smile, and gazed at her captive young guest.

Eliza gazed back, or rather, she stared daggers.  And while her imaginary cutlery might be razor-sharp and thrown (gazed) with expert precision... the blades had no effect on their intended target.  Coco was enjoying herself.  Eliza was not.  The prisoner-of-the-post tugged on the cuffs in frustration, but her escape efforts were as ineffective as her eye-daggers.

For something like a full minute, Coco padded in a slow, leisurely circle around Eliza and the column, like a tourist enraptured by a famous sculpture at the Louvre... or a vulture reconnoitering a ripe and enticing wildebeest carcass.

Eliza endured this humiliating (flattering?) inspection with good grace... meaning she glowered and scowled, exactly as she had for the majority of the time since her arrival at the mansion.

Finally, Coco stopped orbiting Eliza and the post.  "I think we'll go with white nylon," she announced.

We will? Eliza silently fumed.  White nylon?

"Yes," Coco nodded (as if answering Eliza's thought), "half-inch, twelve-strand.  But first..."

Oh, rope... but 'but first' what?

Eliza watched (scowled) as Coco padded to one of the black cabinets, unlocked a drawer, lifted something out, closed and re-locked the drawer, then padded back to the post.

In her hands were two objects.  One appeared to be an automobile key-less entry remote control, a small, rubberized lump with a few plastic buttons.  The other was clearly a collar of black nylon webbing with black plastic hardware.  Gulp!  Eliza realized the remote was for the collar, and specifically, for the small, black rubberized box attached to the nylon webbing.  The box was about 3" x 1½" x 1½", and as Coco turned the collar inside and out for Eliza's inspection, she could see a pair of blunt copper studs projecting from the box and through the braided nylon!  Eliza was sure she knew exactly what she was looking at, but very much hoped she was mistaken!

"Nrrrrr!" Eliza complained as Coco opened the collar, fit it around her neck, clicked it closed, then turned her barrel-key in the lock incorporated in the snap-buckle!  That's right!  The collar was now locked around Eliza's throat!  And it was a snug fit, too!  Not punishingly snug, but snug enough that she could feel the copper studs pressing against her neck, one on either side of her larynx!

"Yes, that's right," Coco purred, "it's an obedience collar, similar to the kind used do discourage doggies from barking; however, this particular collar was designed and manufactured for the expressed purpose of discouraging damsels from sharing their distress with the neighbors, or other potential rescuers.  And after I activate it—"  She held up the control fob and placed her thumb on a red button.  "—you'll find its vibration sensor to be quite sensitive.  Any effort to make noise on your part will be punished by a very annoying but essentially harmless electric shock.  I suggest you take my word for it and don't even try."

And with that (and to Eliza's horror), Coco thumbed the red button, pocketed the remote, then turned and padded back to the cabinets.

Was the collar really poised to shock her if she so much as hummed through the red panties crammed in her mouth?  Eliza considered her options:

(1) The Scientific Approach.  She could force an escalating series of noises through her gag in an effort to map out the collar's boundaries.  At what volume did the sensor vibrate with sufficient enthusiasm to zap her throat?  How strong was the zap?  Did it escalate in intensity with increasing vocal volume?  Did it respond to all varieties of gag-noise, or only certain kinds?  And most importantly, how much did the bloody thing hurt?

(2) The Chicken Strategy.  She could follow Coco's advice, simply assume the bloody thing actually worked, and keep her inarticulate and well-muffled screams, shouts, and yodels to herself.

The Chicken Strategy, Eliza decided.  Definitely the Chicken Strategy... for now.

Meanwhile, Coco had returned from the cabinets with a large cloth shopping bag (in black, of course), and it was full of... something.

Coco dumped the contents on the floor and the something in question turned out to be several coils of neatly hitched white nylon rope, half-inch diameter and twelve-strand construction, just as Coco had warned.  Eliza had an excellent idea what was coming next, and she was right.  Coco proceeded to bind her to the post.  Eliza's research for the upcoming interviews had acquainted her with all the standard bondage forms, including the box-tie, ball-tie, hogtie, the shrimp or forward-leaning-lotus-crunch-tie, as well as chair-ties, table-ties, and bed-ties (with the last two including spreadeagle, flat-on-the-back-with arms-at-the sides, and other variants).  This was a "post-tie."  Specifically, a standing post-tie.  A true classic.

Coco took her time... something like half an hour... and when the proverbial dust settled, tight, neat, horizontal bands of multiple strands lashed Eliza against the steel column, passing above her breasts, below her breasts, around her waist and forearms, her upper thighs, above and below her knees, across her shins, and around her ankles.  And everything was cinched, meaning at every opportunity Coco had passed doubled rope strands over and under the bindings and between Eliza's limbs and/or body and/or the post, pulled out all the slack, then tied a hitch to retain the tension.

And she wasn't through!

Next, Coco crafted a diamond-hitch pattern of doubled ropes that crisscrossed Eliza and the post from her shoulders to her ankles.  And the resulting cat's cradle was hitched through the main bindings as well!  Eliza had no idea why Coco felt the second layer of crisscross bindings was in any way necessary.  She decided her hostess was simply being a smiling bitch.

And still Coco wasn't through.

Eliza watched Coco pad back to the cabinets again, and this time she returned with a roll of thin, white, nylon cord, a roll of some sort of shiny black tape, and a pair of bandage scissors.  Eliza continued watching as Coco knelt at her feet, pulled a generous length of cord from the roll, then proceeded to bind and lash her toes together!  All of them!  She looped and twined the cord around and between all ten of Eliza's foot-phalanges, from little-toe to little-toe!  Eliza did her best to resist by valiantly wiggling her piggies and fidgeting her feet, but it was a pathetic display that only seemed to entertain Coco and did nothing to impede the progress of her villainous efforts.  Finally, after a multi-strand cinch between Eliza's big-toes that tightened the toe-bindings up quite nicely (meaning horribly), followed by a flurry of tight knots, Coco snipped off the free ends, stood, and smiled.

Coco's big, brown, smiling eyes locked with Eliza's narrow, blue, scowling peepers.  "You're probably wondering why I did that," she purred.

Not really, Eliza silently answered.  You're just bein' a bitch.  The serial-toe-tie was tight, but not tight enough to make her toes tingle... for the moment.

"I'm just being a bitch," Coco confirmed, then padded behind the post.  "Make a couple of fists for me, darling," she requested (ordered).  Eliza made no move to comply.  Suddenly, Coco's right arm came around the post and into Eliza's view, and in her hand was the remote to the obedience-collar, and Coco's thumb was poised over one of the buttons!  Coco leaned close and whispered in Eliza's left ear.  "The little yellow button is the 'test' button.  If I press it, your pretty new collar will deliver a full-power zap.  Understand?"

Eliza heaved a sigh, causing the ropes binding her torso to tighten, and nodded.

"Good girl," Coco chuckled.  "Fists."

Eliza had no choice but to close her hands into the ordered fists.  It was either that or be zapped.  She heard the ripping sound of tape being pulled from the roll... then something (obviously the tape) began wrapping around her left fist.  Coco was stretching the tape and overlapping the layers (no doubt doing her usual neat, professional job) and soon clinching her hands into fosts was involuntary and permanent  Her right fist was next... and how her fingers and hands were totally useless... not that they'd been particularly useful before, what with the handcuffs and all that elaborately tight rope.

Coco padded back to the cabinets to return the scissors, remaining cord, and tape to their respective places, then returned with one last item—at least Eliza hoped it would be the last item.

It was a panel-gag of black leather (or course) with a shiny-steel buckle.  Or maybe, Eliza decided, it should best be described as a muzzle.  The leather panel appeared to be chamois-thin, and it had a rounded cutout for her nose and a cup for her chin.  Coco placed it over Eliza's tape-gagged and panties-stuffed mouth, then buckled the strap at the nape of her neck, tight.  The leather was, indeed, thin, and it stretched enough to press against Eliza's already adequately silenced mouth with gentle but relentless pressure.  It was another example of overkill, of course, and did nothing to dull the endless stream of imaginary daggers Eliza continued visually flinging in Coco's smiling direction.

"I'm sure you appreciate the reason I've gone to all this trouble, don't you, Tomboy?" Coco purred.  "It's one thing to bind and gag a naked damsel, leaving her helpless and feeling vulnerable; but it's something else to bind and gag her well past the point of helplessness, to remove any conceivable possibility of escape."  She reached out, cupped Eliza's breasts in her hands, and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "We still have to introduce you to nipple clamps, don't we?"

Eliza managed not to respond with a vocal protest, thus avoiding electrical discipline, but she realized her heart was hammering and she had to remind herself to breathe.  Also, thanks to Coco's fiddling fingers, her nipples were now erect and aching (or maybe tingling).  What's that about? she thought.  They should be as resentful as the rest of me.

"Well," Coco continued.  "Things to do.  Until later, Tomboy."  She released Eliza's breasts, padded to the door, and made her exit—Click!—and of course she locked the door behind her.

So, Eliza was alone... as well as naked, handcuffed, lashed to the post, her hands shrouded in tight layers of tape, panties stuffed in her mouth, redundant tape and panel-gags making sure they stayed there, and with an obedience collar locked around her neck, ready to zap her if she made the slightest attempt to scream for help.

And then there was the mysterious "chair-like object" under the white dust cloth, the center of focus of most of the track-lights overhead.

What's that thing about? Eliza wondered, whatever it is.