by Van © 2016
		Chapter 5

LADY JOCELYN Caerwyn woke with a start.  "Mrrf?"  She was naked and gagged and chained in a full spread-eagle on her bed!  "Mrrrpfh!"  She tugged on the tight, smooth, heavy cuffs locked around her outstretched wrists and ankles.

And then, she remembered.  Nora.  Nora was the author of her captive condition.

And speaking of Nora, the bedroom was dark, but there was just enough light for Jocelyn to make out the ghostly, white cotton robe and nightie-clad form of her Staff Mistress leering down at her from beside the bed.  She could also see the shine reflecting off Nora's face and the insolent, sinister smile curling her lips, as well as the sparkle dancing in her eyes.  Obviously, it was the arrival of the Staff Mistress that had roused Jocelyn from her slumber.

"I'm pleased to report to Her Ladyship that the maid's mission has been entirely successful," Nora purred.  "In fact, it was more successful than we ever imagined, and careful revision of our plans for the next phase may be required."  She sat on the bed and placed a hand on Jocelyn's flat tummy, palm down.  "Of course, it might be argued that Elyse exceeded her orders and escalated the situation without proper authorization, so I'm afraid she'll have to be punished."  Her hand began to slide, and Jocelyn shivered under its smooth, lambent touch.  "It's nice to have an actual excuse to torture the little ginger darling... for a change... don't you think?"

"Mrrrpf!"  Jocelyn tugged on her chains and continued shivering.  What the hell are you talking about?  What happened? she "demanded," staring daggers at her supposed servant (and captor).  "Mrrr!"

"What's that, Your Ladyship?" Nora chuckled.  Her hand continued its gentle exploration, gliding from below Jocelyn's slightly flattened breasts, across her navel to the margin of her dark blond pubic bush, and back.  "You want me to remove your gag—I mean your moisturizing treatment—so we can discuss these new developments?"

Jocelyn continued glaring at Nora above her "moisturizing treatment," and gave her wrist chains an angry jerk.

Still smiling her insolent, leering smile, Nora's hand continued to glide.  "Oh, Your Ladyship," she admonished, "what sort of a retainer would I be if I left an important task only half finished?"

Jocelyn watched as Nora leaned to the side, opened a drawer of her bedside table, and produced a phallus-shaped vibrator.  In the dark bedroom its glistening latex coating was deep purple, but Jocelyn knew it was actually a shade of lavender-pink.  She flinched when, Nora's lips still curled in her sinister smile, the Staff Mistress thumbed the switch and the vibrator buzzed to throbbing life.

"Don't worry, Your Ladyship," Nora said quietly as she used the vibrator to tease first Jocelyn's right nipple... and then her left.  "We have plenty of time before dawn."  Her Ladyship's nipples were now fully erect, and she continued tugging on her cuffs, squirming against the tousled sheets, and whining through her gag.  "Plenty of time to discuss the situation..."  She slid the quivering tip of the vibrator towards Her Ladyship's pussy, tracing a slow, sinuous path.  "Plenty of time to decide how to best ensnare both American trespassers."

Jocelyn shivered in earnest as the vibrator began gliding up and down her labia.  Obviously, something unexpected had happened down below, and Nora would remove her gag, fully explain, and answer her questions... but only when she was good and ready.  Too much fun, Jocelyn thought as she quivered and tugged on her bonds, yet again.  She's having entirely too much fun.

Cecelia had experienced her share of awkward situations, including waiting for the bus with a stranger, a long elevator ride with a stranger, etc.  And now she could add to her list hands bound behind her back in a close-fitting gibbet-cage in a medieval torture chamber with a stranger... and the stranger in question was a nightie-clad, cute-as-a-button redhead chained between a pair of whipping posts.  Escape was clearly impossible, for both of them.

There was only one reasonable course of action: inane conversation.

Cecelia nervously twisted her rope-bound wrists, then cleared her throat.  "Ahem.  So... come here often?"  Elyse smiled before answering—and Cecelia noted (again) that the captive maid had an absolutely gorgeous smile... and those eyes!

"Not really," Elyse sighed.  "Nora tied me on the rack once, but she didn't tighten the drum... much.  I've never ridden the horse, thank goodness, and this is my first time being chained between the whipping posts."

"Wow!" Cecelia gasped under her breath.

"Her Ladyship ties me up quite often," Elyse explained, "but almost always upstairs, only rarely down in the dungeons."

"I see," Cecelia said quietly, then the full meaning of the maid's statement bubbled to the surface and she blinked in amazement.  "Wait!  She ties you up?  Her Ladyship ties you up?  Often?"

Elyse nodded.  "Lady Caerwyn is a recognized authority in the British bondage community.  In fact, she's a past president of the Royal Society of Erotic Rope Bondage."

"Wow," Cecelia sighed... then frowned.  "Wait.  The Royal Society of Erotic Rope Bondage?  You're making that up!"

Elyse smiled.  "Of course, Miss... but Her Ladyship does tie me up.  And she is quite the expert."

Cecelia stared at the captive maid.  Elyse had lapsed back into calling her "Miss," instead of "Cecelia," but that was small fish compared to the news that Lady Caerwyn was a rope expert.  "And you've never been able to escape?"

Elyse's smile became rather coy.  "Not from Her Ladyship's ropes... not that I'd want to, of course."  She tugged on her wrist cuffs, causing the chains to rattle.  "It's expected that one should try, of course, to validate Her Ladyship's composition..."  Her cheeks colored in a delicate blush.  "But I've never really wanted to escape... not actually escape."

"Wow," Cecelia gasped, again.  Elyse is a kindred spirit!  Who knew?  Well, I knew... but...  "Wow!"  That said (or gasped), there was one more thing, the 800 pound gorilla that had been patiently waiting in the corner.  "Elyse... should I be scared?"

Elyse smiled.  "I assume you mean actually frightened?  My word of honor, Miss.  You are in no danger whatsoever, and neither is Miss Cat.  Lady Caerwyn wouldn't hurt a fly.  And the same goes for Mistress Nora.  Her bark is much worse than her bite."

Cecelia nodded.  "I believe you," she said quietly, then smiled a mischievous smile.  "But if you don't stop calling me 'Miss,' I'll..."  Her smile wavered.  "I'll..."

Elyse smiled back.  "You'll drag me to the torture chamber and chain me between the whipping posts?"  She tugged on her fleece-padded cuffs for emphasis.

"Actually," Cecelia purred, "I was thinking about taking one of those floggers for a spin.  You say you've never been whipped?"

Elyse tugged on her cuffs, again, then favored Cecelia with her best Distress Damsel imitation.  "Oh, Miss!  You wouldn't flog me..."  She batted her eyes.  "Would you?"

Cecelia and Elyse shared several seconds of amused silence, then the dungeon exploded in the unrestrained giggling laughter of two very much restrained damsels.

"I have no idea what you two find so amusing," a familiar voice intoned from the top of the stairs, "but we'll see if you're still laughing when Her Ladyship is done with you."

Cecelia and Elyse stared up at the Staff Mistress.  The gate was unlocked and open and Nora was already descending the stairs.  She'd changed from her sleeping costume to her day uniform, the plain-but-stylish gray skirt and jacket from yesterday, but with a different blouse.

Cecelia's heart was hammering, once again, and her tummy-butterflies had awakened from their nap to resume their frantic fluttering.  Clearly, the next chapter of this horrifying (delicious) Gothic melodrama was about to unfold.  Her pussy, apparently totally buying Elyse's assurances that they were in no danger, was purring... just a little.

Cat awoke at dawn.  She lay on her back in the luxurious guest bedroom bed and stared up at the canopy overhead... then turned to gaze at the open window.  The actual window wasn't open, of course, but both the curtains and the drapes were pulled back.  She couldn't see much from this angle, only enough to suggest that the sky was cloudy.  The forecast had said the day would be clear, but morning clouds had been typical of their stay on the Isle of Caer, thus far.

Cat heaved a sigh and climbed from between the covers.  She'd agreed with Cecelia that they would sleep in, but Cat knew she'd never get back to sleep.  She donned the light robe that went with her borrowed nightie, stepped into her borrowed slippers, grabbed her backpacking toiletry kit (what there was of it), and made her way down the hall to the bathroom.  She noted that the iron gates at either end of the hall were now unlocked and folded back against the walls, as she'd assumed they'd be.  Apparently, either Nora-the-grumpy-Staff-Mistress or Elyse-the-incredibly-cute-maid started their duties even earlier, before dawn.

Her morning toilette complete, including splashing her face and running her stubby "field brush" through her short hair (unnecessarily), Cat returned to her bedroom to cobble together a bird-watching outfit from the array of Her Ladyship's absent daughters' clothing that had been made available.  Her own outfits, both of them, were in the castle laundry.  Cat settled on plain white bra and panties, a British-tan pair of cargo shorts, an olive-drab tank-top, gray wool socks, and a sage-green, long-sleeve safari shirt, the kind covered with small, semi-useless pockets and with tabs on the upper-arms to secure the rolled up sleeves.  Only Cat's clunky hiking boots were her own.

Cat quickly made the bed, then slipped her iPhone into a cargo pocket, grabbed her fleece sweater, binoculars, fanny pack with water bottle and emergency trail-mix bars, her ridiculous "Goblin Hat," and left the bedroom in search of breakfast.  But first, she made her way to Cecelia's room, listened at the closed door, then quietly turned the knob and eased the door open.  She expected to find her goddaughter sawing logs in a jumble of cotton sheets.  Instead, the bed was neatly made and the white, whisper-thin robe that went with the nightie she'd seen Cecelia wear to bed was draped across the foot with the matching slippers side-by-side on the carpet.  Apparently (obviously) Cecelia was already up.

Cat closed the door and turned to head for the stairs—and nearly ran into Nora.  The Staff Mistress was dressed the same as yesterday, with the exception of a fresh blouse.  It was white cotton, as before, but didn't have a cravat.  Instead, it had an open, pointed collar with the top three buttons undone.  Nora was showing a little cleavage.  Actually, Cat noted, Nora was showing more than a little cleavage.  She'd noticed earlier that the House Mistress had boobs, but either today she was wearing a push-up bra or she had big boobs... maybe both... meaning both a push-up bra and big boobs... or biggish boobs.

The blouse might be different, but Nora's expression of disapproving courtesy was not.  If anything, she seemed even more pissed off than yesterday.

"Uh, good morning!" Cat said brightly.  She was determined to try and win over Lady Jocelyn's senior servant, or at least put as pleasant a face on things as she could.

"Indeed," Nora intoned.  "Lady Caerwyn requires your presence in the Family Dining Room.  There was an incident during the night."

Cat blinked in surprise.  "Incident?  What kind of incident?"

"Her Ladyship will explain," Nora answered, then turned on her heel and headed for the stairs.  "Follow me," she suggested (ordered).

Cat had little choice but to follow.

Their destination was a small dining room with a table and eight chairs, a sideboard with chaffing dishes, a large hanging tapestry with a floral and wildlife theme, and a small window with a view of the southern moor and the rocky shore below the castle.

Her Ladyship was present, already seated at the table and enjoying what appeared to be a breakfast of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, toast, and... fish?  On her plate were what appeared to be smoked herring.  Cat had heard of the British practice of eating "kippers" for breakfast, but this was the first time during her visit to to England's Green and Pleasant Land that she'd actually witnessed the highly dubious practice (in her humble, gastronomic opinion).  Lady Caerwyn was dressed in jeans and a cotton blouse, with her long blond hair (with gray highlights) pulled back in a loose ponytail secured by a very pretty and no doubt hideously expensive silk scarf.  It was a casual outfit, but Her Ladyship made it look like the height of patrician fashion.

All of this—the furnishings, the breakfast buffet, the dubious kippers, Her Ladyship's informal elegance—all of this Cat took in with a glance, but what had captured her attention upon entering the room, in fact, what was making her stare in slack-jawed amazement, was the spectacle of her goddaughter and Her Ladyship's ginger maid.

Cecelia and Elyse were a few feet in front of the table, standing side-by-side with their backs to the tapestry.  Both were dressed in castle-issue, full-length nighties and panties, like Cat had worn the night before, and she could see said panties thanks to the gauze-thin nature of both garments.  For the same reason she could see their boobs, flat tummies, pubic bushes (dark blond and ginger, respectively), and thighs.  Their long hair (blond and ginger, respectively) was loose and framing their downcast faces.  Their feet were bare and their hands behind their backs.

"Uh... good morning, Your Ladyship," Cat said, her eyes still focused on the nightie-clad youngsters.

"Good morning, Cat," chuckled, Lady Caerwyn chuckled, "and you're to call me Jocelyn, remember?"

"Sorry," Cat said quietly.

"Please, join me," Jocelyn continued, gesturing towards the buffet.

"Uh..."  Cat wasn't exactly at her most eloquent.  "Nora said there was... an incident?"

Still smiling, Jocelyn repeated her gesture and Cat obediently went to the sideboard, placed her sweater, binoculars, fanny pack, and hat to the side, well out of the way, and began loading a plate.  She selected scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and several slices of crispy bacon (but no fish).  She sat at Jocelyn's right, but didn't start eating.

"Coffee or tea?" Jocelyn offered.

"Coffee, please," Cat answered, and watched as Jocelyn filled a cup from an insulated carafe... then handed her the cup and saucer.

"Please, eat," Jocelyn suggested.  "And to answer your question, yes, there was an incident during the night.  Elyse gave Miss Cecelia an unauthorized tour of the dungeons, and Mistress Nora found them playing in the torture chamber."

Cat nearly choked on her coffee, requiring a pat on the back from Her Ladyship.

"Actually, I never got to see the actual dungeons," Cecelia said in a quiet voice, "only the actual torture chamber."

"T-torture chamber?" Cat finally managed to gasp.

"Nora had no choice but to take them into custody," Jocelyn explained, then lifted her right index finger and made a twirling gesture.  The nightie-clad pair obediently executed a half-pirouette, revealing their crossed and rope-bound wrists... as well as their nightie-clad backs, their nightie- and panties-clad derrières, and the backs of their nightie-clad thighs.

All Cat could do was stare.  "Torture chamber?" she reiterated as the wrist-bound captives turned back around.

"I have no choice but to punish Elyse, of course," Jocelyn continued, "but Miss Cecelia insists that she must also be punished."

"It's my fault," Cecelia said, lifting her contrite gaze from the carpet, "so it's only fair."

Cat knew Cecelia was looking to her for support, but what kind of support was unclear.  Support to be punished?  Cat sipped her coffee before speaking.  "Torture chamber?"

"I've decided that for the remainder of the day, Cecilia should assist Elyse in the execution of her duties," Jocelyn explained, "and she has agreed."

Cecelia gave a sheepish shrug.  "It's the least I can do."

"I think it's very sweet of you," Elyse said in a near whisper, and Cecelia blushed.  Actually, both of the contrite, scantily clad, and wrist-bound prisoners were blushing.

"Quiet, you two," Jocelyn gently admonished.  She was still smiling.

Cecelia and Elyse heaved sad, miserable sighs, then returned to gazing at the carpet.

Cat opened her mouth to speak, but was preempted by Jocelyn.

"Yes, I have a torture chamber," Her Ladyship purred.  "If you ask nicely, I'll give you a tour."  She smiled at Cecelia and her maid.  "An authorized tour."

Cat repeatedly shifted her gaze between Cecelia and Jocelyn.  "Uh, what are you gonna do to her?  I mean, to them?"

"Nothing drastic, I assure you," Jocelyn chuckled.  "Elyse will perform her duties, and Cecelia will help.  If they're both diligent and hardworking, there will be nothing further said about the matter."

"That's diligent and hardworking according to my standards," Nora intoned.

Cat had forgotten the Staff Mistress was even present.  By their expressions, Elyse and Cecelia had not.

"Your eggs are getting cold, dear," Jocelyn chuckled.  "Please, eat."

"As for you lot," Nora growled, "into the kitchen."

Elyse and Cecelia heaved another tragic, sorrowful sigh, then turned and preceded the House Mistress through a side door.

Cat stared after Nora and the maid—or rather maids, plural.  After all, Cecelia's punishment was to be Elyse's fellow domestic for the day.  Cat knew her goddaughter would find—was finding—the whole "incident" and her "punishment" to be a lark... a "hoot and a half" as the blond scamp would say.  Also, Cecelia would never forgive her if she spoiled her adventure by demanding her immediate release.

"Eat," Jocelyn urged her remaining guest.  "I know you have plans to go bird-watching along the cliffs, so I insist you have a hearty breakfast."

Cat forked some eggs into her still amazed mouth.  Who am I to argue with the Lady of the Castle? she thought as she chewed and swallowed.

The Castle Peninsula was picturesque, in its own rocky, craggy, sandy, wave-swept way... different from the island's wetlands, meadows, and forest, of course, but just as picturesque.  There were lots of birds, but they were all "the usual suspects," the island's year-round residents.  Cat knew that if she spent a year on the Isle of Caer her life list would balloon with sightings of migrating species, but a single day in early summer?  The usual suspects.

Also, Cat's heart wasn't in it.  She had a lot to think about.  She finally gave up on sorting the sandpipers from the knots from the sanderlings, sat on a boulder facing the castle, and heaved a sigh.

Obviously, Cecelia was having fun.  Cat knew her goddaughter well.  Cecelia was having a lot of fun.  As far as Cecelia was concerned, bird-watching on the Mysterious Isle of Caer had morphed into an extended VIP visit to the Castle Caerwyn attraction at Kinky-Disneyland.

Cat heaved another sigh.  Once again, it would be up to her to rain on the parade and be the adult in the room... or in this case, the castle.

On the plus side...

Lady Caerwyn seemed like a very nice person.  She was also incredibly hot, in an aristocratic, very English sort of way... but that was neither here nor there.

Mistress Nora was something of a downer—a fey beauty with a quirky-cute smile and big boobs—but a downer, nonetheless.  That said, Dominant Debbie Downer seemed to be Nora's role in the unfolding melodrama, and (for no good reason) Cat suspected Nora wasn't nearly as unfriendly as she was pretending to be.

Lady Jocelyn was the "sugar" and Nora was the "spice."  As for the hot ginger maid, Elyse, she definitely qualified as "everything nice."

And so far, Cat and Cecelia had been made to feel entirely welcome, not counting the fact that Nora kept calling them "American trespassers."  Cat smiled.  Actually, that was kinda funny.

On the negative side...

Cat didn't know these people.  Granted, back at the hotel Mrs. Ingleby had vouched for Lady Caerwyn, but Cat didn't know Mrs. Ingleby, either... not really.  Should I really let Cecelia loose on the playground when I don't know her playmates?  Oh-by-the-way, they were in the middle of nowhere—literally on an isolated, nearly deserted island—and only Mrs. Ingleby and Kadence Harrington knew they were there.

Cat took out her iPhone and entered her pass-code.  She noted she had five solid circles in the upper left corner of the screen, a strong cell tower connection.  She looked up and gazed at the cluster of satellite dishes and antennas atop one of the castle towers.  It appeared Castle Caerwyn had its own cell antenna and a microwave connection to the mainland.  Cat sighed, yet again.  Should she call for help?  Did they need help?

What's the UK version of 911?  Cat remembered: 999.  That was the emergency number, but what was the non-emergency number?  And what do I say?  Just wanted to let you know my goddaughter and I are American tourists who've trespassed on the Isle of Caer, and now we're Lady Caerwyn's guests... and Her Ladyship has a torture chamber and my goddaughter has volunteered to help her maid clean the castle for the day!  They'll send out a chopper with a couple of men in white coats and a straitjacket.

Cat turned off the phone and restored it to her pocket, then climbed to her feet.  She needed more data.  She needed to talk to Her Ladyship—Jocelyn—and clear the air.  Cat was sure they weren't in danger, not actual danger.   And it wasn't because Cat didn't appreciate the gravity of their situation and couldn't imagine a worst case scenario.  Cat Sinclair was not naive.  The thing was... Cat had already decided Lady Jocelyn and the other inhabitants of the castle were nice people, not crafty sadists or diabolical human traffickers.  That said, Cat needed to have a long, substantive talk with their hostess.  Cecelia might be an adult—legally, just barely—but she was still Cat's goddaughter and her responsibility.

Cat retraced her steps, climbing the trail from the rocks and sand of the beach to the grasslands in front of the castle.  She trudged to the main gate and eased open the postern.  She'd been half-afraid Nora had locked the postern behind her, so she'd have to shout and pound on the portal for readmittance.  No doubt the Staff Mistress would have found that to be the very height of hilarity.  Anyway, the postern was unlocked.  Cat made her way to the increasingly familiar lived-in part of the castle, climbed the main staircase—and for the second time that morning found herself staring in slack-jawed amazement.

Cecelia and Elyse were kneeling on folded cloth pads and scrubbing the stone floor of the main corridor.  Both were dressed in maid uniforms, the same kind of black and white outfit that Elyse had been wearing yesterday, possibly the exact same outfit in the case of the ginger maid.  Both had their hair up and coiled in tight buns with white lace caps pinned atop their heads.  Their hands were protected by heavy rubber gloves and they were taking turns dipping brushes into a bucket of soapy water, then scrubbing the smooth stones of the floor with rough scrub-brushes, raising a white lather in the process.

There was one final detail: both maids had what appeared to be heavy steel collars locked around their necks!  And the collars were joined by a five or six foot length of medium-weight chain!

"Oh, hi!" Cecelia said brightly as she continued scrubbing the floor, then Elyse leaned close and whispered in her ear.  "Oh, you're right!" Cecelia said, then shared a giggle with her fellow maid as they scrambled to their feet.

The adorable little pair of collared and chained domestics grabbed the lower hems of their skirts with the very tips of their wet rubber gloves, then executed a slow, deep curtsy.  "Good morning, Miss," they said in perfect, singsong unison, then shared another giggle.

Cat continued staring in amazement, watching the swaying chain linking the smiling maids, one of whom was her goddaughter!  "W-what?" she finally managed to stammer.

Just then, Nora and Jocelyn emerged from a side corridor.

"Back to work, you lot," Nora rounded on the giggling maids.  "One demerit."

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" Cecelia whispered to Elyse, loud enough to be heard by all, and the maids giggled, again—not that they'd actually stopped.  Obviously, Cat's priceless, astounded reaction to their domestic captivity was enough to trump Nora's stern discipline.

"Two demerits," Nora growled.  "Keep it up and tonight you'll sleep in the dungeons."

Instantly contrite (Not!) the giggling maids knelt on their pads and resumed scrubbing the floor.

Cat focused on Her Ladyship and opened her mouth to request (demand) a private audience, but was preempted.

"Come, Dear," Jocelyn said with a warm smile.  "Let's have tea in the Mainland Parlor.  We need to talk."