|by Van © 2016
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
"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
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
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.
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
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
"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
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.
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
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
"Her Ladyship will explain," Nora answered, then turned on her
heel and headed for the stairs. "Follow me," she suggested
Cat had little choice but to follow.
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
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
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
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
"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
"Quiet, you two," Jocelyn gently admonished. She was still
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,
"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.
"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.
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
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
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
"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."