by Van ©2022
		Chapter 8

Time passed in the black room with the four posts, the mysteriously shrouded chair-shaped object, and Eliza Callahan.

Hours.  Maybe... three?  Eliza's best guess was three... maybe going on four... but probably three.

Other than stare at the aforementioned shrouded object, the only way Eliza found to pass the time was to squirm in the elaborate network of white nylon ropes binding her to the six-inch steel post pressing against back, butt, and legs—tug on the hinged handcuffs (with natural rubber tubing padding) locked around her wrists behind the post—and wiggle her white-nylon-cord-bound toes, all ten of them!  She most decidedly did not try forcing any noise past the red panties stuffed in her mouth, the wide strip of Elastoplast tape adhered to most of her lower face, or the thin panel-gag of black leather tautly stretched across the tape and  buckled at the nape of her neck.  Why?  Because an obedience collar of black nylon webbing was poised to zap her with electricity if she tried!  That's why!

Eliza didn't like being zapped, never had, so she'd decided to chicken out on testing the collar.  Coco had said it would zap her, and Eliza decided that was good enough for her.  Maybe the collar would zap her, or maybe not, but making well-muffled gag-noise was totally pointless anyway, so why insult Coco's veracity and take the chance?  That said, at one point she'd dropped her guard and let slip a deep sigh of frustration—Ziiit!—and was rewarded by a not-at-all-painful but definitely there buzz from the copper studs nudging her neck on either side of her larynx!  That was all the confirmation she needed, thank you very much!  No pointless gag-noise for Eliza!  No-siree!

Oh-by-the-way, her hands were curled into fists and mummified in tight, no doubt smooth and neatly overlapping layers of some sort of black, slightly stretchy tape that might be latex.  She couldn't actually see the fist-mummies in question, of course, as her cuffed hands were behind her back and on the other side of the post, but the wrapping and stretching had been done by Coco Vespini, so it was a safe bet they were works of art.  Bondage-wise, Coco knew her stuff.

And as it turned out, it wasn't fun being bound, gagged, naked, and tightly lashed to a post to the point that you could just barely squirm.  Who knew?

Anyway... naked, well-gagged, and ridiculously over-bound, Eliza manned her post and waited for an Evil Villainess, meaning Coco and/or Pepper, to return and/or arrive and... move things along.  Okay, the Vespini sisters weren't truly evil, but they were into bondage, and more than happy to share their knowledge with innocent visitors who had thought their interest in the subject would be wholly journalistic and not practical... innocent visitors like Tippi and herself.

So... that brings us to the aforementioned thing that Eliza could do: visually examine the Mysterious Shrouded Object lit by the overhead spotlights and directly before her.  Unfortunately, that didn't take very long, and turned out to be as pointless as squirming against Coco's ropes.  The dust-cloth-covered thing was definitely the size and general shape of a chair, probably with arms, but it probably wasn't a wing-back or overstuffed easy-chair.  And it might have a headrest, but that was about all she could determine.  And Eliza realized she could easily be entirely wrong.  The shrouded lump could be an easel and a small trunk placed close together for all she knew.  That said, Eliza considered "some form of seating" to be a pretty safe bet.

Just then—Click!  Finally!—the chamber door was unlocked, opened, and Coco, Pepper, and Tippi padded across the threshold.  The Vespini sisters were still in their at-home-uniforms of black jeans and tank-tops (with pokies) and Tippi was still naked, with her hands cuffed behind her back and her mouth gagged; however, her former ball-gag was gone, and in its place was a broad, wide strip of Elastoplast tape.  The shape of her partner's lips and mouth stood out in 3D relief, as was standard with a properly applied Elastoplast damsel-silencer.

"Sorry for the delay, darling," Coco purred.

No you're not, Eliza silently fumed.

"Anyway," Coco continued, "we're finished the housework and our daily exercise and are ready to proceed with Tippi's punishment."  She stepped forward, grabbed the dust-cloth with two hands, and whisked it away with a theatrical flourish.  "Tah-dah!"

Eliza's eyes widened and she barely remembered not to make some sort of gagged exclamation.

"Mrrrf!"  That was Tippi, of course.  Her eyes were also wide, and it seemed the only thing keeping her from turning and fleeing through the open door and back down the corridor was the fact that Pepper had a firm grasp on her upper left arm.

The object now fully revealed was a chair, as Eliza had suspected, but it was a decidedly sinister chair!  Its frame was chrome-plated or stainless steel, and for purposes of classification it was, as Eliza had also suspected, an armchair with a headrest.  There were also a leg-rest, or more precisely, a leg-rest split down the middle into two identical halves.  Everything that would come in contact with a seated damsel (like Tippi) was padded with black leather (or possibly Naugahyde), and while the chair looked comfortable, it wasn't a lounger.  It was, however, fully adjustable, with gears and little hand-wheels at just about every joint in the frame.  Finally, its sturdy, swivel-mounted, pedestal base was bolted to the floor.

So far so good, but what made the chair truly "sinister" were the medical-style cuffs attached to the chair's arms, each of the leg-rests, and the straps dangling from the back and sides.  They were black leather with steel buckles sporting clearly visible barrel-key-style locking flanges.  The cuffs were well-padded, like the medical restraints that had bound Eliza to her guest bed on her second night at the mansion, only these were black, rather than the more traditional butternut-tan.  Also, what was clearly a collar was attached at the appropriate location.  It was wide and padded, what Eliza believed was called a "posture collar" in bondage crowd parlance.  Among the medical community, it probably would be characterized as an unnecessarily stylish neck-brace.

Pepper unlocked Tippi's cuffs and took a step back.  And then, without saying a word, Coco made a graceful gesture, indicating the chair.  Both Vespini sisters were smiling, of course.

Tippi stared at the chair... shifted her big brown eyes to helplessly bound and gagged Eliza (finding no support there)... then back to the chair.  Finally, she padded forward, heaved a tape-gagged sigh, planted her butt on the seat, and settled into the rest of the padding... voluntarily!

Eliza was somewhat surprised.  Supposedly, Tippi had been "naughty," had acknowledged her guilt, and had agreed to endure some sort of "punishment."  In her place, Eliza would have fought like the proverbial wildcat before she allowed herself to be strapped into that chair... which obviously was what was now about to happen.  And at the very least, the Tippi she knew would have struggled, squirmed, and mewled like a cranky kitten... but she hadn't... and she wasn't.  Tippi had settled into the chair like a martyr going to her fate.  Granted, as a rule, Tippi was less, shall we say, assertive than Eliza-the-Brave, but this wasn't like her.  It was a little unsettling.  Why was Tippi being so compliant?  The only reasonable explanation was that she actually did feel guilty about something.

What the hell did you do, Tippi? Eliza wondered.

In any case, Coco and Pepper were, indeed, strapping Tippi to the chair.  Padded cuffs tightened and locked around her wrists, upper arms, mid-thighs, and ankles, making sure her arms and legs remained firmly in place on the armrests and leg-rests, respectively.  Also, two-inch-wde horizontal straps were stretched across her body, buckled tight, and locked, pinning her torso against the chair-back at the waist and below and above her breasts.  Finally, the collar was buckled and locked around her neck—her entire neck, from just below her ears to her shoulders, and by Tippi's belated and pointless squirming, the devilish thing was rigidly attached to the chair!  It even had a chin-rest!

Having finished their work, the Vespini sisters took a step back and smiled; meaning, of course, they gloated like a couple of criminal masterminds in a James Bond movie.  It was absolutely disgusting.

Meanwhile, Tippi continued testing her bonds.  News flash: they worked.  From the neck down, she was able to squirm, twist, and tug against the restraints.  She even succeeded in making her breasts bob and shimmy a little, but the chair ignored her efforts completely.  It didn't rattle and/or shake, and the leather didn't even creak.  From the neck up it was even worse.  All Tippi could do was blink her big brown eyes and flare her nostrils.  She might also be knitting her brow, but her bangs were in the way and Eliza couldn't be sure.  And Tippi didn't bother making any gag-noises.  It was the only distress-arrow left in her quiver, so she probably didn't want to waste it.

Coco shifted her diabolical/winsome smile to Eliza, then padded over to stand at her side.

"A remarkable chair," Coco purred, apparently addressing the prisoner-of-the-post.  "Don't you agree?  No ornamentation or unnecessary elaboration, but that's what makes it so special.  Form follows function all the way to graceful design.  See the hand-wheels?  They're used to position the occupant in a near infinite number of poses, from simply sitting there, as Tippi is now, to fully reclined.  I call that 'table-mode.'  There's also head down and feet up, or 'foot-tickling-mode,' and that's with or without the legs splayed apart and with the knees either bent or straight.  Also, the legs can be opened all the way to 'full-splits-mode,' of course."

"I'll show you," Pepper volunteered, padded to Tippi and the remarkable chair in question, and began turning one of the hand-wheels.  As she did so, the legs of the chair began to separate, as if Tippi was spreading her knees apart.  "I won't bother with lifting her feet," Pepper purred, smiling at Tippi as she turned the crank, "but she looks better with her legs apart like this, don't you think?"

Pepper continued spinning the wheel, the slow separation of the leg-rests continued, and Tippi had no choice in the matter.  The thick-walled and well-padded ankle and thigh restraints kept her legs firmly positioned on the leg-rests as they scissored open.  She whined through her gag and tugged on her wrist cuffs to express her dissatisfaction, but Pepper and the chair ignored her efforts.

The wheel-spinning continued until Tippi's legs were splayed a little past 90°.  Needless to say, this exposed Tippi's lady bits, placing them on full display—labia, slit, Venus mound, and the curly thicket above—everything!  Above the top margin of her tape-gag, Tippi's cheeks were blushing like crazy (and probably underneath).

"I think that's enough," Pepper purred, then resumed her former gloating pose of arms folded under her breasts and angelic/demonic face beaming with satisfaction at her appalling wickedness.  "You thought I was going to continue to full-split, didn't you, Schoolgirl?" she teased Tippi.

"Various sections of the padding can be folded back or even removed," Coco continued her lecture, "including the foot-rests, the front half of the seat, and the headrest.  And there are attachment-points for brackets that position vibrators and other, shall we say, 'intimate machinery' at strategic locations.  There's also a pair of 'toe-harp' accessories, semi-circular brackets that capture all ten toes with taut wires, completely immobilizing the occupant's feet for... special attention."

Coco reached to the side and casually cupped Eliza's left breast in her right hand, capturing the nipple between her thumb and index-finger.

This almost caused Eliza to conduct the obedience-collar test she'd been hoping to avoid, but she caught herself in time.

"There are several brackets and attachments for entertaining breasts and nipples," Coco continued.  "Glass suction domes for the entire breast, smaller tubes for these little gals"—She tugged on Eliza's nipple for emphasis—"as well as clamps with stretching wires, and really delightful things I call my 'pincushion bra-cups,' steel domes lined on the inside with very sharp needles.  And I'm having new accessories made all the time."  She released Eliza's nipple and breast.  "But we'll leave that sort of fun for another time.  Today, we're using the chair to simply keep Tippi in the proper position for her agreed upon punishment."

And with that final mysterious statement, Coco padded to Pepper's side, folded her arms under her breasts, and the Vespini sisters resumed their Gloating Bond Villain imitations.  Seconds passed with Tippi continuing her futile struggles, her wide eyes darting from Coco, to Pepper, to Eliza, and back.  All Eliza did was stand at her post.  It was all she could do.  And then...

"Well, our 'special consultant' should be arriving in about an hour," Coco announced, "so I suppose you girls will have to chill until then.  You don't mind chilling for a while, do you?"

'Special consultant?' Eliza wondered.  That's not at all ominous.

The question about "chilling" was rhetorical, of course, not to mention in no way literal.  A light patina of sweat glistened on Eliza's skin from head to toe, and no doubt Tippi would start glowing at any second.  The Chamber of the Four Posts and Evil Chair was slightly overheated, if anything.  There would be no "chilling."

And with that final one-way exchange, Coco and Pepper padded to the door, crossed the threshold, and closed the portal behind them.  Click!

Eliza gazed at Tippi.  Tippi gazed back.  They had a lot to talk about, including punishment, what Tippi had done to deserve it, and the topic of special consultants, but no way to do it.

"Mrrrf?" Tippi inquired.

Eliza rolled her eyes, then lifted her chin to ensure Tippi got a good look at her obedience collar.  Whether Tippi realized what the thing was and therefore why Eliza wasn't "answering" was unclear.  Tippi simply squirmed in her bonds and blinked her big brown eyes.  Her boobs bobbed a little, but her pageboy hung perfectly still.  The chair's posture collar was doing an excellent job of locking her head firmly but comfortably in place.

All the friends could do was wait... so they did.

Eliza and Tippi had done their homework before visiting the mansion.  That is, they'd scoured the internet for material about the bondage scene, all the way from Psychology Today articles, to "how to" practical reference sites, to "scholarly" discussions of bondage in popular entertainment.  But truth be told, it was more like they "dipped a toe" in the subject matter rather than conducted comprehensive research.  Nonetheless, upon arrival at the mansion they'd considered themselves adequately prepared... sort of.

For that reason, neither damsel was surprised by the "proposal" on the Vespini sisters part that they should "chill" for some unspecified interval.  Nor were they surprised by the passage of a full hour before they heard the door once again being unlocked.  Click!  Leaving a damsel to stew in her juices (so to speak) for an hour was more or less traditional.  Of course, Eliza had already been waiting three hours, but unfortunately, the arrival of the sisters and the strapping of Tippi to the Evil Chair had reset the clock, so, together with Tippi, she'd had to wait an additional hour.  Bummer.  Anyway...

The door swung open and the Vespini sisters made their grand entrance.  They were each pushing a steel serving cart laden with various objects and things hidden under a pair of medical-green cloths.  And following close on their heels was—

"Mrrrk?"

The inquiry and expression of genuine surprise (and possibly alarm) was from Tippi, of course.  Once again, Eliza limited her response to a wide-eyed stare, so as not to get neck-zapped.

The third arrival was female, somewhat diminutive in stature, and shrouded from head to toe in a black spandex leotard, body-suit, or whatever you call those things.  (Eliza knew such suits were referred to with a Japanese word starting with a "Z," but she couldn't remember it.)  Anyway, the suit included gloves, booties (with oriental-style pockets for her big-toes), and a full hood.  Not so much as a sliver of the wearer's skin or a single strand of her hair was visible.

And oh-by-the-way, the new arrival's ensemble included a full-face mask.  It was something like a Venetian carnival or Mardi Gras mask.  There was some ornamentation, but only in the form of airbrushed makeup and a little diamond-like bling above the eyes.  In Tippi's opinion it looked somewhat... oriental?... maybe.  Also, it was unclear how the mask was attached to the suit.  There were no visible strings, ribbons, or straps.  The mask may have been an integral part of the hood.

And the mysterious masked-woman-in-black was definitely a woman.  Her boobs weren't huge, but they were there.  Her figure was slender and well-proportioned, and she moved with the grace of a ballerina or acrobat.  Needless to say, her appearance was unexpected, both her aspect and her arrival.  Also... decidedly eerie.

Coco and Tippi positioned the carts to either side and slightly behind Tippi's chair, then removed the cloth covers, folded them neatly, and placed them on the lowest shelf of their respective carts.  Tippi couldn't see any of that, of course.  She tried rolling her eyes, but thanks to the chair's rigid collar, it was wasted effort.

From her post, however, and despite the distance, Eliza could see, and the view was... ominous?  She decided to go with "ominous."  Resting on each cart were neat arrays of different kinds of scissors, clippers, combs, and brushes.  There was also a modest stack of neatly folded hand-towels, a plastic spray-bottle, a handheld blow-dryer, and other stuff Eliza couldn't see very well.  Anyway, Eliza realized she was staring at a full complement of hairdressing equipment!

Tippi's previously announced punishment for whatever it was she'd done during the night was now obvious!  She was going to be given an involuntary haircut!  Eliza squirmed in her rope bonds and stared daggers at the Vespini sisters, but that was all she could do to register her outrage and/or lodge the obligatory complaint.  Either Coco and Pepper didn't notice, or she was being ignored.  The sisters weren't even looking in her direction.  Pepper had retrieved a third tray from one of the cart's lower shelves and was carrying a thermal carafe and complete tea service for two to the café table off to the side.  Coco and the mysterious woman-in-black remained close to the chair and its pitifully squirming occupant, and appeared to be discussing Poor Tippi's dire and imminent fate in whispered tones.  Eliza couldn't make out a single word.

Finally, Coco padded to the café table and joined her sister.  They settled into the two comfortably padded accompanying chairs and prepared to enjoy cups of hot tea.  Pepper was "Mother," meaning she was the one that poured steaming hot elixir from the carafe and into the cups.

Meanwhile, the woman-in-black had picked up a comb and a pair of scissors and was dancing in Eliza's direction!  Yes, in Eliza's direction!  And she was literally dancing!  Her steps were slow, graceful, and exaggerated.  It sort of reminded Eliza of Japanese Kabuki theater, something about which she knew next to nothing.  Anyway, the masked woman was definitely dancing, and the eeriness factor in the chamber ratcheted up another notch.  The woman was waving the scissors and comb in elegant, delicate arcs as she approached... as if they were swords or fans.

And then... she was there, right in front of Eliza and her post!  The eyes of the mask were black as midnight.  That is, the eye-openings were covered by tinted lenses, dark enough that Eliza could see absolutely nothing of the woman's actual eyes.  She assumed the lens coverings weren't opaque.  Nobody likes people who can't see dancing around with scissors.

The scissors and comb continued tracing delicate paths as the masked hairdresser gracefully, silently, and slowly gamboled and pranced.  Eliza decided she might as well say it (meaning think it):  Hairdresser!  She also decided holding her head perfectly still was probably a very good idea, so she did.  The woman danced in place for several more seconds... then began dancing a slow, spinning orbit around the post.  Snick!  Snick!  Snick!  And now and then, the scissors darted out to sever the very ends of a few strands of Eliza's tousled blond hair!  She felt the tiny cuttings settle on her shoulders, and when they were face-to-face, her chest and breasts.  She could both see and feel them.  They were only drifting fragments, but they were her drifting fragments!  It was her hair!

And then... after very little snipping, which had to have made little difference (if any) in her overall appearance... the woman danced away, heading for Coco, Pepper, and the café table.  Eliza's heart hammered and her hair-decorated boobs heaved as she panted through flaring nostrils and watched as another quiet, whispered conference happened.  Obviously, as they were looking in her direction, she was the topic of conversation, and probably, specifically, her hair.  Eliza had stopped glaring when she was face-to-face with the dancing woman-in-black with the dancing scissors, but she was glaring now!  Don't you dare! she silently warned.  Don't even think about it!  Now it was abundantly obvious that they were discussing Eliza in general and her hair in particular!  The dancer repeatedly gestured (gracefully) in her direction, clacking her scissors for emphasis, while Coco and Pepper smiled, nodded, sipped tea, and made the occasional whispered comment.

And then, the Masked Dancing Hairdresser spun on her heels and danced towards Tippi and the Barber Chair of Doom... and the woman chose a curved trajectory that ensured Poor Tippi could see her coming.  Once again she was waving the scissors and comb like they were fans, knives, swords, fluttering scarves, etc.

And then... it happened!  Poor Tippi's hair was ruthlessly albeit professionally coifed!

It took some time, but when the proverbial dust settled (as well as the literal severed hair), Tippi had more or less (emphasis on less) the same basic hairstyle, only half as long.  Her straight bangs were unchanged, but the horizontal line of her pageboy had been shortened and angled up in back into a classic Lulu-bob, exposing her entire neck and just barely clearing the lower tips of her earlobes.

Much to her surprise... Eliza liked it... meaning Tippi's new hairdo.  After all, it was the same as her former pageboy (which Eliza had always liked) only now it was more... daring... and exotic.  She'd have a better idea when Tippi was free of the posture collar and out of the chair, but Eliza liked it.

As for the manner in which it was inflicted on her best friend, not so much.  Eliza glared at the tea-slurping Vespini sisters and the Kabuki Hairdresser.  Even if it was punishment, what could Tippi have possibly done to deserve such... stylish retribution?

Anyway, the Hairdresser of Oriental Mystery (aka Dances With Scissors) returned her tools to their proper places on the cart, then used a small hand-whisk to brush the severed hair from Tippi's naked and restrained body.  She appeared to be getting most, but not all of the clippings.  After all, as previously mentioned, the room was overheated and everybody was glowing.  At least some of the severed hair was reluctant to abandon Tippi's glistening skin, but only a little.

Meanwhile, Coco and Tippi abandoned their tea-slurping ways, rose from their chairs, padded to Tippi and her chair, and the Masked Hairdresser.

"Oh, she's absolutely delightful!" Coco gushed, then gave the hairdresser a quick but enthusiastic hug.

"I couldn't agree more," Pepper beamed, then leaned close and kissed Tippi's tape-gagged lips.  "Just wait 'til you see yourself, sweetie.  Let's get you to a mirror... and a shower."  She began unbuckling Tippi's restraints and Coco joined the effort, but they left her wrist cuffs 'til last.

Meanwhile, the hairdresser finished arranging the scissors, combs, etc., then restored the green cloth covers.  She then turned and watched as the Vespini sisters finished releasing Tippi, lifted her to her bare feet, and cuffed her hands behind her back with a pair of the shiny steel hinged handcuffs with natural rubber tubing cushioning.  Resistance had been impossible (or at least highly improbable).

Poor Tippi was now naked, handcuffed, Elastoplast-tape-gagged, and Lulu-bobbed.  She blinked her big brown eyes at Eliza as Pepper led her away... and was gone.

Next, Coco and the hairdresser made their exits, each pushing a cart.  They'd even remembered to take the tea service formerly on the café table with them.

Click!  And that, of course, was the door being locked from the outside.

Once again, Eliza was alone in the Black Dungeon/Hair-Salon, naked, lashed to the steel post with yards of white nylon rope, her ten toes tied with thin white cord, her wrists cuffed behind the post with a duplicate of the rubber-padded cuffs binding her now absent bestie-with-the-Lulu-cut, her fists reduced to useless tape-mummies, gagged with a leather panel and Elastoplast tape-gag (with red-panties-stuffing), and further silenced by the obedience-collar locked around her neck.

The only things different was the Barber Chair of Stylish Doom was no longer covered and the remains of the lower half of Tippi's pageboy were strewn about the floor.

Eliza squirmed for comfort, forced a carefully silent sigh past her system of gags, and stared at the modest pile of severed hair.  If they expect me to clean that up, they've got a looong wait, she thought, and I can't get over how good Tippi looks with her hair like that!

So, yet another hour of waiting, right?

Actually, no.  Go figure.

Coco returned in a little less than half-an-hour, heralded by the unlocking of the chamber door.  Click!  Without any gloating or other form of villainous preamble, she produced a small pair of folding scissors, knelt at Eliza's feet, and carefully freed her toes from their white cord bindings.  Then, she stood, and after folding and pocketing the mini-scissors, she proceeded to untie (and uncinch) the plenitude of white nylon rope lashing Eliza to the steel post from ankles to shoulders... which took a while.  She then unlocked the hinged handcuffs, helped Eliza awkwardly stagger away from the post, then immediately cuffed Eliza's wrists behind her back, once again.  She didn't touch Eliza's fist-mummies, panel-gag or tape-gag (with red-panties-stuffing).  Nor did she unlock and remove the alleged obedience collar.

Having nothing else to occupy the time between Tippi's haircut and Coco's return, Eliza had been working up the courage to finally conduct a test of the obedience collar, to confirm that she wasn't being pranked by Coco and the bloody thing actually would shock her if she tried making vocal noise, but now was definitely not the time.  She'd wait until Coco was well out of gloating range.

Anyway, glaring into the distance and ignoring her smiling handler, Eliza graciously allowed herself to be dragged (led) to Coco's bedroom, then on into the luxurious attached bath.  There, after watching Coco strip, she enjoyed (for real!) a long hot shower.  The steaming deluge felt very good, and she didn't let the feeling of Coco's hands gliding over her body and scrubbing her with a soapy washcloth spoil (or enhance) the occasion.

The tiny fragments of blond hair left behind when Dances With Scissors snipped a few ends of her tousled hair were now washed away, and Eliza looked in a full-length mirror and noted the complex, symmetrical pattern of rope-marks crisscrossing her nude body were already beginning to fade.  She stood perfectly still and bravely tolerated Coco using a fluffy towel to thoroughly dry her skin and hair.

"I really am quite good at crafting attractive bondage with uniform tension," Coco purred, "even at critical junctions and other potential friction-points.  It takes experience and effort.  Nobody likes a damsel covered in rope-burns and bruises."  She unbuckled Eliza's panel-gag and tossed it aside.  "It also cuts down on the wait time between sessions," she continued as she teased back a corner of Eliza's Elastoplast tape-gag, then began slowly, carefully peeling the milky white panel from Eliza's lower face.  As the wide strip's adhesive surrendered, it stretched Eliza's lips and face... then came free and was tossed aside as well.  "And an artist always likes to start with a fresh canvas," Coco said with a smile, then delicately plucked the wadded red panties from Eliza's mouth.  "Don't you agree, Tomboy?"

Working her jaw and licking her lips, Eliza almost took the bait, but once again, maintained her angry silence and thus avoided getting zapped by the obedience collar, assuming, of course that Coco wasn't bluffing and the bloody thing really did work as advertised.

Coco then filled a glass with cold water and held it to Eliza's lips.  She drank it all.  After all, she'd been manning her post in the Dungeon/Hair-Salon for... too many hours... and she'd missed lunch.  She then glowered and stared exotic knives, stilettos, daggers, dirks, bayonets, and even the occasional poniard at her handler's face as Coco smiled her infuriating dimpled smile and used the wet washcloth to give her now gag-free face special attention.  A quick trip to the toilet to empty her bladder was next, followed by another humiliating experience with the commode's built-in bidet.  Then, it was back into the main bedroom.

"Dinner tonight will be a special occasion," Coco announced as she gave Eliza a gentle shove, sending her bouncing onto the neatly made bed, "so why don't you take a nice nap to recharge your batteries?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course, as Eliza was already on the bed... and her hostess had produced a second pair of hinged steel handcuffs (with natural-rubber tubing padding), gathered Eliza's ankles together, and locked the cuffs around her ankles.

"There," Coco purred as she smiled (gloated) down at her nude guest, with her obedience collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, and fist-mummies of black latex tape.  "Pretty as a picture."

Eliza continued sending imaginary cutlery in Coco's direction, and every pigsticker was custom made (with a damasked steel blade), and was totally ineffectual.  She continued the pointless (or pointed but harmless) barrage as Coco padded into her walk-in closet... and almost immediately returned wearing black designer jeans and pulling a black tank-top over her head.  She was back in uniform.

Coco ran her fingers through her gleaming brown curls to restore it to its usual charmingly tousled order, then resumed smiling (gloating) at her helpless young guest.

Time passed.

Coco smiled.

Eliza stared daggers.

"Well, sweet dreams, Tomboy," Coco said finally, then turned and padded to the bedroom door.  She paused in the threshold to send a final infuriating smile in Eliza's direction, accompanied by a truly maddening flutter-fingered wave... and then was gone.

Click!

"Bitch!" Eliza muttered in a whisper—BUZZ!—and was immediately jolted by a paralyzing zap of electricity!  It wasn't excruciatingly painful, but it had definitely hurt and was something to be avoided.

So, the bloody thing does work, Eliza thought, referring, of course, to the obedience-collar still locked around her neck and threatening her larynx.  Ace, she silently fumed, and mentally crossed the topic of collar testing off her agenda.  And then... having few other options... she heaved a carefully silent sigh, closed her eyes, and tried her best to take the suggested nap.  Her final thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were of Tippi and her new haircut.

She really does look good like that.  Very... saucy.  Maybe I should... nah... no way.

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