|by Van © 2016
Several Months Later
STEPPED off the bow of the fishing boat and onto the
end of Castle Caerwyn's stone dock, placed her rolling suitcase
beside her feet on her left, adjusted the strap of her laptop
case on her right shoulder, then smiled and waved to the
fisherman in the boat's wheelhouse. Cat was dressed for
business in sensible pumps, pantyhose, a skirt and matching
jacket, a stylish cotton blouse, and a trench coat. Thanks
to a recent trim, her auburn locks were slightly more pixie than
Yes, that's right! Cat Sinclair, notorious tomboy, was
dressed for business! Go figure!
Cat watched the fishing boat back away from the dock... then
turn and motor towards the Lancashire coast. She extended
the handle of her suitcase, turned towards the sea cave, and
started down the dock. Castle Caerwyn loomed
overhead. To get to her new home and base of operations,
the "Ranger's Cottage" (aka The Hermitage), she'd have to enter
the sea cave, trek all the way around the interior, then climb
the trail leading up the cliff on the far side. Halfway
around the interior of the cave Cat stopped, dropped her bags,
and smiled. Jocelyn was descending the stairs from the
A warm smile on her beautiful face, her long, blond hair (with
gray highlights) loose about her shoulders, and wearing stylish
boots, designer jeans, a cotton blouse, and a warm jacket, Her
Ladyship strolled forward, pulled Cat into a warm hug, and
kissed her lips. "Welcome back, Ranger Sinclair," she
"Hello, Your Ladyship," Cat replied. She couldn't curtsy
because Jocelyn hadn't released her embrace. Actually, Cat
wouldn't have curtsied anyway. Rangers don't curtsy.
Cat was always courteous and respectful to the Lady of the
Castle, but rangers don't curtsy.
"How went your meetings?" Jocelyn inquired.
"Nothing to add to my e-mails," Cat answered. "In a
nutshell, there weren't any real problems. There's still a
tiny minority vaguely unhappy with what they call the
'problematic independent nature' of our management plan, but I
think you're right, it's a couple of bureaucrats at the Forestry
Commission who are behind the noise."
"Yes," Jocelyn purred. "One department or another always
seems to have its knickers in a twist about some minor aspect of
how I govern the island. The Isle of Caer is a Crown
Dependency and literally not their bailiwick.
That doesn't prevent some of them from grumbling, of course, and
it's been that way for generations."
Cat chuckled. "Anyway, the majority of all concerned are
ready to welcome the island into the Royal Society of Wildlife
Trusts with open arms."
Jocelyn finally released her embrace and took a step back.
"By the way, I've spoken with Her Majesty, and the Crown is
solidly behind the proposal."
"Wow," Cat said in a mocking whisper. "I forget sometimes
that you can ring up the queen whenever you want."
"Cheeky Monkey," Jocelyn chuckled. "That's because you're
my Petulant Tomboy and an American." She gestured
towards the trail up to the cottage. "Leave your bags,
darling," she instructed. "I'll have Nora have Lily bring
"I can handle it," Cat responded. She extended the
telescoping handle and they started in the direction of the
trail. "How is Lily working out, by the way."
"Famously!" Jocelyn gushed. "She's a natural maid.
Even Nora is impressed."
"And frustrated, no doubt," Cat chuckled.
"I don't know what you mean, darling," Jocelyn
"What I mean," Cat continued with a grin, "is that
Lily's eighteenth birthday isn't for two months, if I recall
correctly, and while Nora might be instructing her in rope-play,
might even take her on the occasional tour of the dungeons, just
to satisfy the little darling's innocent curiosity, it's all
fully-clothed and very G-rated... or NC-17."
"The British Board of Film Classification uses a different
system," Her Ladyship purred, "but you are essentially correct."
"Like I said," Cat chuckled, "frustrated." She smiled at
Her Ladyship. "And probably yourself, as well." She
paused to retract the suitcase handle, then lifted it by its
non-telescoping handle and they started up the trail.
"Yes," Jocelyn sighed, "but now I have my Ranger to
Cat's only response was a modest blush and a coy smile.
They reached the top of the cliff and the cottage came into
view, tucked against a corner of Castle Caerwyn.
Cat's smile widened. "Oh, wow!" Everything was the
same. The Hermitage/Ranger's Cottage was just as quaint,
picturesque, and charming as ever; however, beside the gate in
the stone wall that defined the front yard was something new: a
signpost, and the attached sign bore the Caerwyn coat of arms
and proclaimed the cottage to be the domain of the Ranger of the
Isle of Caer Wildlife Trust.
"What a nice touch!" Cat gushed, and planted a kiss on Jocelyn's
"Baked enamel, or some such," Jocelyn chuckled. "I'm
assured it will last as much as ten years before requiring
repainting or replacement."
"Beautiful," Cat sighed. She nodded towards the cottage
door. "Come in for tea? I don't know if Nora had
Lily replace the milk in my fridge, but if not, I've got some
non-dairy creamer someplace."
"I believe Nora did, indeed, have Lily restock your perishables
in preparation for your return," Jocelyn replied, "but no, thank
you." She kissed Cat's cheek, then continued along the
trail towards the Castle's landward entrance. "Dinner will
be at the usual time," she announced, then turned to face
Cat. "Oh by the way, our scholars have decided to take
their school holiday on the island, rather than in London, as
"Cecelia and Elyse are here?" Cat asked.
"Indeed," Jocelyn purred, then turned and continued down the
Cat shrugged, opened the gate and carried her things to the
cottage. The plan in question had been for Cecelia and
Elyse to take their vacation from the academic toil and
tribulations of their first year at Oxford to gad about London,
using Her Ladyship's St. John's Wood mansion as their home
base. So, what changed? Cat wondered. No
doubt they have their reasons. She opened the
cottage door, carried her bags across the threshold—and froze in
surprise. Then, her smile returned, she shook her head,
and closed the door behind her.
renovation and modernization of the cottage had been
accomplished long before Cat left for her meeting with the Royal
Societies. The ambiance had remained rustic and charming,
but now there were all the modern conveniences, as well as
comfortable furnishings. In any case, the appearance of
the cottage interior hadn't been the cause of Cat's
reaction. Her surprise had come from the presence of two
unexpected guests: Cecelia and Elyse.
The blond and ginger Oxford scholars were not only present, but
were naked, bound, and gagged! They did appear to be happy
to see Her Ladyship's Ranger, but their greetings were limited
to their smiling eyes, as well as a little rope-impeded
squirming and gagged mewling.
Elyse was seated in one of the cottage's two easy chairs, and
her condition might best be described as an enthusiastic
ball-tie. Her wrists and elbows were bound behind her
back, her legs folded up with her breasts more-or-less squashed
against her knees, and the heels of her bare feet pressed
against the backs of her thighs. Neat, multiple bands of
rope pinned her arms to her torso, her legs together and
to her torso, and were all elaborately cinched and hitched to
form a constrictive web, from the helpless ginger's shoulders to
her wiggling feet. And for no objective reason other than
general bitchiness on the part of whoever had perpetrated the
maid/scholar's predicament, Elyse's big toes were lashed
together with stout cord. Finally, a wadded cloth had been
stuffed in her mouth and a second, narrowly folded cloth tied as
a cleave-gag to keep it there.
Cecelia, on the other hand, was tied stomach-down across the
well-padded ottoman in front of Elyse's chair. Her wrists
were tied to the footrest's short wooden feet at one end and her
knees to the feet at the other. Her ankles were crossed
and bound, and multiple strands of rope lashed her down on the
top of the ottoman, encircling her waist and crossing her back,
tight enough to press her tummy into the soft leather and squash
her breasts. Cecelia's gag was identical to the one
imperfectly silencing Elyse.
Cat smiled, removed and hung her trench coat from a rack mounted
on the wall near the door, then carried her suitcase to the
bedroom area and her laptop bag to the desk in front of the bank
of windows overlooking the front yard and the Irish Sea.
She then went to the kitchen, confirmed that her refrigerator
and pantry had, indeed, been fully stocked for her return, as
promised, and began preparing her electric coffeepot for
Meanwhile, the naked, bound, and gagged Cecelia and Elyse
expressed their joy at Cat's return and inquired as to the
success of her continuing efforts to establish the Isle of Caer
Wildlife Trust. Actually, they wiggled, squirmed, tugged
on their bonds, and forced inarticulate, well-muffled noise past
the cloths stuffing and cleaving their mouths, mostly variations
on the phrase "M'mmpfh!"
Cat finished her preparations, set the pot to brewing, then
strolled to the scene of what she assumed was Nora's
crime. Still smiling, Cat noted an additional detail: her
goddaughter's naked rump was flushed a bright, angry shade
of pink. Apparently, it was no coincidence that Cecelia
was bound with her derrière in the perfect position to receive a
spanking and/or a paddling and/or a whipping; however, seeing as
how no paddles, floggers, or riding crops were abandoned nearby,
Cat assumed Cecelia had, in fact, been spanked.
Cat strolled behind the easy chair, untied Elyse's gag, and
plucked the stuffing from her mouth. "Nora?" she inquired.
Elyse licked her lips before answering, then confirmed Cat's
Cat went to the cottage bathroom... and returned with a tube of
soothing and moisturizing ointment. She dispensed a
generous dollop onto the palm of her hand, then applied the
floral-scented creme to Cecelia's pink butt-cheeks and began a
Cecelia's reaction was to flinch, then resume squirming in her
bonds and mewling through her gag. She also looked back
over her right shoulder and favored her godmother with a rather
ambiguous gagged stare. She could be communicating either
anger or gratitude, or possibly both at once.
"Nora must be even more frustrated that I thought," Cat
chuckled. "She can't torture sweet, underage Lily and you
two were at Oxford, so as soon as you returned, she took out her
pent up feelings on the first naked butt available."
Elyse smiled her adorable, dimpled smile and gazed at her
helpless fellow scholar (and lover). "It doesn't help when
one can't keep one's smart remarks to one's self," she sighed.
Cat responded with a knowing laugh and Cecelia by redirecting
her now clearly resentful stare to the smiling ginger.
"Well," Cat said as she capped the tube and strolled back to the
bathroom, "I'm going to take a quick shower while the coffee
Elyse heaved a sad sigh as the bathroom door closed. "I
suppose it would have been too much to be untied before
she refreshed herself from her journey," the helpless ginger
said to her fellow prisoner.
Ceclia grunted into her gag in agreement, then settled in to
wait for Cat's return.
When Cat did return from the shower, she untied her young house
guests. Cecelia kept her post-bondage pouting to a minimum
and Elyse was her usual charming, adorable self.
Apparently, both the blonde and ginger had decided to let
bygones be bygones and not retaliate for their delayed
liberation by pouncing on Cat and using their former bonds to
bind their hostess. After all, there was way too
much juicy gossip waiting to be shared. Was life at Oxford
stuffy, fun, or both? Was Cecelia making any progress
towards choosing an academic major, or was Cat going to have to
administer her second spanking of the day? With
an elderly hunk like Sir Richard Attenborough in charge of The
Royal Society of Wildlife Trusts, were the executive meetings
nonstop parties? They all had questions.
Cat hadn't bothered dressing after her shower, wanting to put
her guests at ease, and the maids-turned-scholars went with
their hostess' decision. That is, the trio poured
themselves coffee and settled into chairs without Cecelia or
Elyse donning the clothes Nora had ordered them to remove, fold,
and arrange in neat, tidy stacks next to the cottage door prior
to their being bound and gagged.
They spent a very pleasant hour chatting... then, the girls
returned to the castle so they could all dress for dinner with
Cat opened her wardrobe... and smiled. Several new outfits
had appeared. Obviously, all were gifts from Jocelyn, and
they all appeared to be professionally related.
There were Ranger uniforms: skirts, pants, blouses, and jackets,
all vaguely military in style. The base color was a very
pleasing shade of gray-green, darker for the skirts, pants, and
jackets, and lighter for the blouses. Subdued vermilion
stripes ran down the pant legs and piped the button-down flaps
of the blouse pockets. Above the left breast pockets of
the blouses were tasteful, embroidered badges similar to the new
sign next to the cottage gate. One jacket was lightweight,
with a full-zip closure, a second was more formal, with epaulets
and flap-pockets with more of the vermilion piping, a third was
a hooded rain-jacket, and a fourth was a long trench coat.
For field wear there were also cargo pants, cargo shorts,
blouses, and more jackets, all in a camouflage pattern Cat found
to be both novel and attractive. The colors used were
olive-green, bark-brown, rust-tan, and the same dark and light
gray-greens used for the Ranger uniforms. The pattern was
"digital," like most modern military camouflage; however, rather
than a mottled mosaic of square "pixels," tiny, stylized,
interlocking icons of birds in flight had been employed.
The avian aspect was very subtle, visible only upon close
examination. Cat thought the field outfits were very cool,
and she could tell the pattern would be excellent camouflage on
the Isle of Caer.
There were also new hats: a wide-brimmed floppy hat for sunny
days, a ball-cap, and a deer-stalker cap with ear-flaps for
winter wear, all in "Isle of Caer camo." There was also a
non-camouflaged, feminine uniform hat in gray-green with
vermilion trim and a Ranger badge, obviously for wear with the
non-field uniforms. Cat's goblin-hat was still in the
wardrobe, but the felt "horns" had been replaced by the optional
felt leaves, and a small metallic Ranger badge was pinned to the
Finally, there was a formal Ranger's uniform, what in
the military would be called a mess-dress
uniform. It had two parts: (1) a full-length, strapless
gown, and (2) a toreador-style, long-sleeved jacket. The
gown was shirred silk with a subtle feather pattern and the long
skirt was the same dark gray-green as the Ranger uniform
trousers and jackets; however, the gown's cummerbund-like bodice
and breast cups were vermilion, like the uniforms' stripes and
piping. The toreador-jacket was the lighter shade of
gray-green and sported a brooch-like version of the Ranger
badge, in gold with precious stone insets.
Cat's smile became a wry smirk. The truth had finally
dawned. The grey-green and vermilion were inspired by the
coloration of the European robin. "So," she muttered under
her breath, "I'm to be a Red-breasted Ranger." On a hunch,
she opened the underwear drawer of her chest of drawers and
found that several new bras and pairs of knickers had
mysteriously appeared, all in the same silky vermilion as the
boob-cups and bodice of the formal gown.
Cat shook her smiling head and began to dress. She didn't
need a bra, not with the lined cups and open back of the
strapless gown, but she did need panties, and they might as well
Cat donned the
panties, gown, and jacket, as well as the final two new items in
the wardrobe: (1) a hooded, full-length cape in a gray-green
even darker than the gown; and (2) a pair of vermilion high-heel
pumps with ankle-straps. She noted that the buckles were
lockable, but no tiny padlocks had been in evidence,
heart-shaped or otherwise—not that she would have used them if
they had been present. She made her way to the
castle, let herself in (having long since dispensed with
troubling Nora or the maid on duty to answer the door), hung up
her cape, and made her way to the Family Dining Room.
Lady Caerwyn was already present, looking as stunning as ever in
a gold and silver strapless gown. Her long blond hair
(with gray highlights) was loose about her shoulders, and she
was at the dining room's compact bar, pouring an amber liquid
into a cocktail glass. She smiled and handed the glass to
Cat. "Sidecar?" she purred.
Cat took a sip, licked her lips, and smiled. "Yummy.
Jocelyn poured herself a second glass and took a careful
sip. "Indeed." Her smile became rather coy.
"Our vacationing scholars won't be joining us. Nora has
made separate dining arrangements. Tonight it will be just
you and me."
Cat hid her reaction (a delicate thrill rippling
through her vermilion-knickers-clad pussy) with a sip of her
cocktail. "I see," she responded.
Jocelyn leaned close and continued in a near whisper.
"Tonight, Lily will be serving. I expect you to behave
with the deportment expected of the Ranger of the Isle of Caer
Cat smirked. "No getting naked, sucking face, and fucking
like a pair of randy weasels in front of the youngster?"
"Certainly not," Jocelyn answered primly, then leaned close and
planted a quick kiss on Cat's smiling lips. "Not in the
dining room, anyway. And keep your voice down."
"Yes, Your Ladyship," Cat purred.
"Finish your drink," Jocelyn ordered. "Lily should be
serving the soup presently."
"Yes, Your Ladyship," Cat chuckled, then took a sip from her
"Have we been
here before?" Cecelia inquired.
"I assume you mean have we ever been incarcerated in this
particular dungeon cell?" Elyse responded in a droll
Cecelia rolled her eyes. "Yes, this particular dungeon
Elyse frowned in concentration before answering. "Now that
you mention it... I'm not at all sure."
"Yeah," Cecelia sighed. "Ya seen one dungeon cell, ya seen
The maids (and vacationing scholars) had expected to change into
formal gowns and join Her Ladyship and Her Rangership for
dinner, but the Staff Mistress had other ideas. After
enjoying a quick but delicious meal in the kitchen, Elyse and
Cecelia had been dragged down to the dungeons and were now
naked, locked in iron collars, and chained by separate, six or
eight foot lengths of iron links to an iron ring set in the
stone wall of a semi-dark, straw-strewn dungeon cell.
Also, their wrists were crossed and tied behind their backs and
their ankles crossed and tied, as well. Having been
abandoned to a night of languishing, they were both squirming
and struggling to free themselves.
"She used a lot of rope," Cecelia complained as she continued
tugging on her wrist bonds and groping for the knots or knots
securing the Staff Mistress' handiwork.
Elyse agreed, "much more than was really necessary." She
grunted in concentration, then pulled her left wrist free of
what was now a tangle of rope around her right wrist.
Cecelia watched as her fellow prisoner (and lover) leaned
forward and made quick work of the rope lashing her ankles
together—and just to be clear, Elyse was untying the rope
lashing her own ankles together. Cecelia remained bound
hand and foot. "You've been practicing," the helpless,
naked blonde noted.
Still sitting on her naked butt in the loose straw, Elyse
smiled, lifted her arms, and executed a momentarily
boob-flattening stretch accompanied by a contented sigh before
answering. "Yes, I have been practicing, as you
well know. You've been helping me practice,
"Studies permitting," Cecelia sighed. "And you've been
helping me." She tugged on her wrist bonds, kicked her
bound feet, then favored her smiling, neck chained, but
otherwise unfettered naked dungeon-mate with an exasperated
"Well, what, darling?" Elyse purred as she untangled her former
wrist and ankle bonds and coiled the ropes.
"Untie me," Cecelia huffed.
"Now why should I do that?" Elyse inquired.
Cecelia heaved another sigh. "So we can suck face and...
"Oh, that." Bringing the coils of rope with her, the
smiling ginger moved closer to her blond fellow prisoner.
"And when has a little rope ever stopped us from doing that?"
"Lots of times," Cecelia countered. "It depends."
"On how we're tied?"
"Yes, on how we're tied," Cecelia huffed, "or what we're
"Point taken," Elyse purred—then pounced!
"Hey! No! Elyse!"
When the dust (or rather, the straw) settled, Cecelia
found herself in a very stringent hogtie. The
heels of her crossed and bound feet rested in the palms of her
crossed and bound hands, and strands of Elyse's former bonds
enforced the arrangement. Also, the squirming blonde's
upper thighs were now tied to their respective shins, adding a
frog-tie element and making it impossible for her to close her
legs. In addition, her upper arms were pinned to her sides
and the same rope yoked her shoulders, then was passed through
her ankle and wrist bonds and pulled tight, reinforcing the
hogtie and placing her in a permanent, spine-bending arc.
"Nora did use more than the required amount of rope,"
Elyse purred as she cinched the final knot. "It's almost
as if she intended to give whichever one of us escaped
first something to work with."
"You're a rat!" Cecelia muttered, testing her new
bonds. She'd failed to escape from Nora's bondage and
could already tell that escaping from the addition of Elyse's
enhanced hogtie would be equally impossible. "You're a
dirty rotten dungeon rat! Hey!"
Elyse had heaped most of the straw within easy reach into a
pile, then flipped Cecelia onto her back, straddled her waist,
and settled a portion of her weight on the pouting blonde's flat
"I take it back," Cecelia muttered. "You're not a rat,
you're a horse."
Smiling her dimpled smile, Elyse leaned forward and began
combing her fellow prisoner's long, blond locks from her
face. "Best not to mention horses," she purred.
"Remember, the torture chamber isn't very far away, and you
never know when Mistress Nora might be listening."
Cecelia smiled back and a delicate shiver rippled through her
pussy and up her spine. "Point taken," she sighed.
"Now, where were we?" Elyse leaned down and planted a kiss
on Cecelia's lips. "Oh, that's right: sucking face... and
stuff." She cupped Cecelia's breasts and gave them a
gentle squeeze. "And by 'stuff,' I mean this sort
of thing." She continued kneading Cecelia's breasts.
"As well as licking and biting your nipples, your inner
thighs... your labia... etc."
Cecelia continued squirming and testing her bonds, still making
no progress towards gaining her freedom. She also
continued shivering as Elyse toyed with her breasts; however,
Cecelia being Cecelia, she couldn't help having a smart
mouth. "Oh, not my etcetera!" Cecelia
blinked several times for emphasis (and maximum
adorableness). "Anything but my etcetera!"
Elyse rolled her eyes in disgust, the expected response.
"Mistress Nora should have gagged us," she sighed, "but since
she didn't, there's only one way to shut you up." She
leaned forward until her petite body was sprawled across her
hogtied lover with their breasts squashed together. A
deep, wet, prolonged kiss followed.
And the night was still young.
"Formal Ranger Uniform" was neatly draped across the back of one
of the two easy chairs near the fireplace of Her Ladyship's
bedroom, including the jacket. The vermilion high-heel
pumps and the vermilion panties rested on the chair's seat.
Cat, on the other hand, was neatly and carefully sprawled on the
carpet before the bedroom's blazing fireplace. As might
have been surmised, she was naked, and the heat from the flaming
logs was making her sweat—that, and her vigorous efforts to
escape from Jocelyn's latest composition. Cat's arms were
raised and her wrists bound together behind her head, with
tight, neat, multiple bands of cinched rope binding her upper
arms to her forearms. In addition, a rope harness
encircled her torso above and below her breasts, yoked her
shoulders, and anchored her wrist bonds high on her back, just
below the nape of her neck. Finally, a long rope depended
from the harness, encircled her waist, then continued down her
legs. It was hitched and cinched every few inches, binding
her legs together, as well as her ankles, feet, and big
toes. All the ropes were just tight enough to
dimple Cat's firm, glistening flesh. It was another Lady
The naked captive was impressed... also hot, bothered, and
increasingly impatient. "How long are you gonna just sit
there and leer at me?" Cat demanded. She was
speaking to Jocelyn, of course, who, after placing her in her
current condition, had changed into her usual sleeping costume
of nightie, nickers, and long, frilly robe, all gossamer-thin
and in no way up to the task of disguising her anatomical charms
and preserving her modesty. She was now comfortably
reclined in the easy chair beside the one draped with Cat's
uniform, and was, indeed, leering at the wiggling, struggling
prisoner—but not in a crude manner. Her Ladyship leered
with the demeanor appropriate for her station and upbringing.
"I see no reason to rush things, darling," Jocelyn purred, then
gracefully stood, padded to a cupboard disguising a compact bar,
poured dark sherry into a tiny, stemmed glass, then returned to
her chair. "The night is still quite young," she observed,
then took a careful sip.
"Oooh!" Cat complained as she executed a vigorous but totally
ineffective series of squirms. She wasn't really upset, of
course, but Petulant Tomboys complain. It's what they do.
Sinister, inadequately clothed aristocrats, on the other hand,
lounge around, sip sherry, and leer at their naked
captives. It's what they do.
Cat continued struggling... and squirming... and sweating.
"You never did tell me the real reason Cecelia and Elyse decided
to pass on London," she said at one point.
Jocelyn smiled and took another sip before answering.
"They were to be house guests of my Charlotte," she said.
"I know," Cat huffed.
Charlotte was the Honorable Charlotte Caerwyn, Jocelyn's
thirty-something daughter and a highly successful businesswoman
and philanthropist who lived in the family's St. John's Wood
mansion and worked from the family offices in the City of
"Unfortunately," Jocelyn continued, "Charlotte's plans
changed. Business negotiations at the home of a dear
family friend, Tydwell Castle, have run unfortunately long, so
the girls decided to come home for their break, instead."
Cat favored her hostess, employer, captor, and lover with a wry
grin. She hadn't yet had occasion to meet Jocelyn's
daughter, but knew something was up. It was a safe bet
that the apple hadn't fallen very far from the Caerwyn family
tree. "I suppose they could have met up with Charlotte
at... What did you call the place?"
Jocelyn laughed. "Tydwell Castle, and I don't think the girls
are quite ready to meet Lady Jane."
"What does that mean?" Cat demanded as she executed another
"Never you mind," Jocelyn chuckled. "I'm sure you'll meet
Charlotte and Lady Jane at some point The girls,
also. But there's no need to rush things." She
finished her sherry, placed the glass on a side table, then
picked up a folded scarf and a small, elegantly carved wooden
box, and knelt at Cat's side.
Cat watched as Jocelyn folded the scarf into a wide
bandanna. "What's that for?" she demanded.
"We're going to play a game," Jocelyn announced.
"I know that," Cat huffed, "but... Hey!
Jocelyn!" Her Ladyship had lifted Cat's head, bound arms,
and torso onto her lap, and was tying the scarf as a
blindfold. The naked captive's raised and bound arms
complicated the process, but Her Ladyship managed. "What's
this for?" Cat demanded.
"It's part of the game," Jocelyn purred.
"This is stupid," Cat complained, squirming in Jocelyn's lap and
kicking her bound feet. She heard a click and the creak of
a metal hinge. She assumed it was the sound of Jocelyn
opening the wooden box. "What are you doing?"
"Hush," Jocelyn purred. "Now, over the years—since I was a
girl, in fact—I've collected things during my walks on the
island, including... feathers."
The horrible truth dawned. She wouldn't! Cat
thought (meaning desperately hoped). "F-feathers?"
"As my Ranger and resident naturalist," Jocelyn continued, "I
thought you might help me identify my specimens... by species
and type. Long Eared Owl, Raven, Avocet, Mute
Swan... Primary or secondary flight feathers, tail
"And how am I supposed to do that while blindfolded, huh?" Cat
demanded. "If I can't see them I can't—Eeeeee!"
Jocelyn was using what the smiling aristocrat was almost certain
was a tail feather from a Rudy Shelduck to trace delicate lines
up and down Cat's cleanly shaven left armpit.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Cat wiggled and writhed,
but bound as she was and held in the tight grip of Jocelyn's
left arm and scissored legs, she could do little to evade the
tickling feather, nor should she control the giggling laughter
punctuating her protests. "P-p-pleeeese!
"If you fail to adequately identify my collection," Jocelyn
purred, "your forfeit will be to lick my pussy until dawn, and
to have your pussy licked, as well."
"N-nooo! He-he-he-he! Pleeeeese!"
"If your efforts are successful, however," Jocelyn
continued, "you reward will be to lick my pussy until
dawn, and to have your pussy licked, as well."
"Hawk! Hawk! Hawwwwwk!" Cat squealed, continuing to
buck and squirm. "It's a hawk feather!"
"Of darling," Her Ladyship chuckled, "not even close." She
returned the feather to the box and selected a primary from a
Green Woodpecker. "Let's try another, shall we?"
"I like this game," Jocelyn chuckled, "and I love my new