by Van © 2016
		Chapter 6

THE MAINLAND Parlor was the same medieval/Victorian sitting room where Cat and Cecelia had first met Lady Carewyn.  Cat deposited her binoculars, fanny-pack, sweater, and goblin-hat on a side table, then joined Jocelyn before the bank of diamond-pane windows and they settled into a pair of comfortable wing-chairs.  The clouds had dissipated and the day was bright and sunny.

"Beautiful," Cat sighed as she gazed across the Irish Sea at the Lancashire coast.

"Indeed," Jocelyn nodded.  "In all seasons, in all weather... beautiful."  She shifted her smile to Cat.

Cat smiled back... then her smile faded.  The 800 pound gorilla had followed them into the room, and there were limits to its patience.  "Uh... Jocelyn, I'm grateful for your hospitality—"

"You're worried about Cecelia, of course," Jocelyn interrupted with a smile.  "Let's agree to talk openly.  I give you my solemn word that I will allow no harm to come to either your goddaughter or yourself."

Myself?  Cat wasn't concerned for herself.  "Cecelia has always liked to play, uh..."

"Bondage games?" Jocelyn suggested, and Cat nodded (and blushed).  Jocelyn reached out and gave Cat a reassuring pat on her right knee.  "Mrs. Ingleby informed me that she found Cecelia bound with rope on her hotel room bed."

Cat's blush deepened.  "It's just an innocent game.  We—I mean she—she likes pretending she's a damsel in distress... like Nancy Drew.  Uh, you know Nancy Drew?"

Jocelyn's smile broadened.  "Yes, I'm familiar with the fictional girl detective.  Anyway, that is why I was not totally surprised when informed that Elyse and Cecelia had made their nighttime excursion to the castle's lower levels."

Cat nodded.  "Yes, that sounds like one of Cecelia's stunts, but you own a torture chamber?  Seriously?"

Still smiling, Jocelyn nodded.  "A legacy of my ancestors' fashionable fascination with the Romantic Movement.  Historical melodrama was all the rage.  Early in Victoria's reign, many titled families added 'authentic,' fully equipped torture chambers, dungeons, and oubliettes to their estates.  In a lighter vein, 'hermit's caves' were added to many gardens.  Often, vagrants were employed to dress in rags or animal skins and occupy said caves, posing as 'holy men' meditating on mortality and spiritual aspects of the natural world.  Remind me to show you the castle's 'hermitage.'  It's tucked away among the boulders atop the southwest cliff."

Cat response was lukewarm.  "Uh... okay."

"Anyway," Jocelyn continued, "Castle Caerwyn's subterranean punitive facilities date from that period."  Her Ladyship's smile turned charmingly mischievous.  "And as Her Majesty's duly appointed Magistrate on the Isle of Caer, I find the castle dungeons to be a convenient means of dealing with any rebellious colonials that might trespass on the island."

Cat grinned.  "Especially convenient when they volunteer to be dealt with."

"Exactly," Jocelyn chuckled, then turned to the parlor entrance.  "Ah, our tea has arrived."

Like yesterday, Elyse was pushing a serving cart with a complete tea service into the parlor.  The only change was that she had a blond, similarly uniformed assistant and they were chained together at the neck.  Cecelia was following in Elyse's wake with her hands behind her back, doing nothing to assist Elyse and apparently present only because of the swaying chain linking their collars.

Cecelia grinned at her godmother.  "Since I don't know how to serve tea in the proper manner," she explained, "I'm supposed to watch and learn."

Elyse rolled her eyes.  "In silence," she admonished her fellow domestic in a quiet whisper.  "In silence."

Jocelyn winked at Cat.  "According to the explicit instructions of the Staff Mistress?" she inquired.

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Elyse acknowledged.

"Well then," Her Ladyship purred, "you know what to do."

Much to Cat's distress (or amusement) Elyse reached into the pocket of her maid's apron and produced a ball-gag with a white mouth-plugging sphere and a black leather strap.  Cat noticed that Cecelia was tugging on her unseen wrists as if they were bound.  It was a reasonable assumption that they were.

"Wait-wait-wait!" Cecelia gasped as Elyse stepped behind her, reached over her head, and prepared to apply the ball-gag.

"Yes?" Lady Caerwyn purred.

Cecelia focused on Cat.  "Lady Caerwyn is a recognized expert in rope bondage," she said with an impish smile.  "Discuss."  Having pulled the pin of a social hand grenade and rolled it into the parlor, she opened her mouth and accepted the gag.  Elyse tightened the strap until Cecelia's cheeks bulged, then secured the buckle at the nape of her neck.

Cat heaved a semi-exasperated sigh.  Things were getting worse and worse, better and better, or both.  The ball in her goddaughter's mouth was at least two inches in diameter.  Someone who didn't know Cecelia might describe her expression as a grimace, but Cat recognized a delighted smile.  She could tell Cecelia was having the time of her life... the little scamp.

"We'll serve ourselves, Elyse," Jocelyn said.

Elyse blinked in apparent surprise.  "Your Ladyship?"

"Shoo," Jocelyn chuckled with a smile, then made a graceful, dismissive gesture.

Elyse dropped into a curtsy—nudging Cecelia with her hip until her fellow maid also dropped into a bound and gagged curtsy—then the chain-linked pair stood in unison, turned, and departed the parlor.

Cat noted that her goddaughter's wrists were, indeed, bound behind her back with thin rope or thick cord... and then the ginger and blond maids were gone.  She turned back to find Jocelyn expertly pouring a cup of tea.  "Is it true?" Cat asked in a quiet voice.

"Is what true, my dear?" Jocelyn said as she handed the cup and saucer to Cat.

"You're a rope bondage expert?" Cat said quietly.

A delicate blush colored Her Ladyship's cheeks (which Cat found to be really hot).  "Well... some might characterize my skill as such.  At the urging of several of my friends, I've allowed a series of books of my photographs to be published—under a pseudonym, of course. I'm told they sell quite well... to a niche audience."

"Wow," Cat whispered under her breath.  A ghost of a thrill rippled between Cat's legs and up her spine.  Lady Jocelyn Caerwyn... bondage expert!  Cat took a sip of tea, then cleared her throat.  "Books?  Plural?"

Jocelyn smiled.  "I'll give you a set.  My gift."

"Y-you don't have to do that," Cat stammered, then took another sip of tea.

"It will be my pleasure," Jocelyn chuckled.  She found Cat's amazed reaction to be quite amusing (and somewhat arousing).

The Lady of the Castle and the "American trespasser" sipped their tea and gazed at the Irish Sea.

Jocelyn smiled at her guest.  "You believe me, don't you?"

Cat smiled back.  "About the books?  Sure."  Jocelyn continued smiling, obviously waiting for her to say more.  She knew Her Ladyship's question wasn't about her published works.  Cat emptied her tea cup before continuing.  "I know you won't hurt Cecelia," she said seriously, then her smile returned, "but if Nora gets carried away, will you let me kick her ass?"

"Yes, of course," Jocelyn laughed.  "I'll let you try, anyway."  She set down her cup and saucer, then refilled Cat's cup.  "Nora is quite the scrapper."

"Thanks," Cat said, then took a careful sip from her replenished cup.  "I believe you about Nora being a scrapper... and about Cecelia being safe."

Jocelyn smiled (and blushed), then refilled her own cup.

The maids—one blond, bound, and ball-gagged; the other ginger and not bound and ball-gagged—made their way back to the kitchen, the chain linking their collars swaying as they walked.

Nora looked up as they entered her domain, paused in the act of preparing Her Ladyship's lunch... and frowned.

Elyse gave a sad little sigh, then answered the unasked question.  "She spoke without permission."

Still frowning, Nora walked around the preparation table and stood before Cecelia.

The gagged-smile on Cecelia's face had faded the instant they entered the kitchen.  She wasn't exactly scared, but Nora was intimidating (in a Wicked Witch, Evil Stepmother, Cruel Dominatrix sort of way).

"A pity," Nora growled, her eyes locked with Cecelia's.  "You both missed your breakfasts, and now one of you will be going without lunch."

"Nora," Elyse responded (whined) carefully.  "I'm sure Cecelia is sorry."

"Sorry that she's disobedient, inattentive to instructions, and hungry," Nora said evenly.  "I quite agree."  She walked to a sideboard, lifted one of a pair of large chicken salad sandwiches from a small plate, took a generous bite, then returned to the work table, taking with her the sandwich and one of two moisture-beaded bottles of Moorehouse Blond Witch Ale that had been next to the plate.  After chewing and swallowing, Nora focused on Elyse and nodded towards the remaining sandwich and bottle.  "Take your lunch to the Maid's Closet," she ordered.

"Yes, Staff Mistress," Elyse said with a sad sigh, dropped a shallow curtsy, then took the plate and bottle and made her exit.  Cecelia had no choice but to follow, of course.

The "Maid's Closet" turned out to be a small, empty room down a side hall.  It had a solid door reinforced with iron bands and a substantial sliding bolt on the outside.  Inside was nothing but stone walls, a plain wooden floor, and hefty timber rafters overhead.  The only "furnishing" was an iron ring dangling from an iron staple solidly embedded in the wall opposite the door.  Once they were inside and Elyse had closed the door behind them, the only light came from the single bulb of a small fixture affixed to the rafters directly over the center of the room.

"Take a load off," Elyse sighed as she gracefully settled to the floor.  Soon both maids were sitting together on the hard wood with their legs tucked to one side.  Elyse leaned close, reached behind Cecelia's head and unbuckled her gag, then closed the buckle on the strap's first hole.

Cecelia worked her jaws and tongue and forced the ball from her mouth.  The white rubber sphere exited her mouth and bounced to her chest, joining her steel collar and chain as kinky jewelry.  "Eyah!" she gasped.  "Thanks."  She smiled at her fellow maid.  "Were you supposed to do that?"

"No, I wasn't," Elyse huffed, "and I'm not supposed to do this, either."  She lifted the sandwich from the plate and held it so Cecelia could take a bite.

Cecelia eyed the sandwich hungrily.  "You're not going to get in trouble?"

Elyse heaved an exasperated sigh.  "Of course, if we get caught.  Now, take a bite so I can take a bite.  I'm hungry too, you know."

Cecelia grinned and took the ordered bite.  "Yum!" she muttered as she chewed.

"Indeed," Elyse purred, then took a bite of her own.  The sandwich was quite huge, more than she usually ate for lunch (and intentionally so, in accordance with Nora and Her Ladyship's rather sketchy plan).

Cecelia swallowed, then looked around the bare room.  "So... it would seem you don't keep a lot in your closet."

Elyse took a drink from the bottle of ale before answering.  "The 'Maid's Closet' isn't for the use of the maid," she explained, "it's for closeting the maid."

Cecelia focused on the iron ring set in the wall.  "Oh."  Elyse held the bottle so she could take a drink, and she did so.  The local brew was as good as the local chicken salad.  Elyse then fed her a second generous bite from the sandwich.

"Remember," Elyse lectured as her fellow maid chewed, "you're bound and gagged and hungrily watching me devour my lunch.  No more talking.  If Nora happens by and hears your voice, we'll both be in real trouble."

Cecelia swallowed her second bite.  "As opposed to now?"  She smiled and shook her head, causing her end of the chain linking their collars to sway and rattle.

Elyse couldn't help but smile, then composed herself, forced a frown, and held the bottle so Cecelia could take another drink.  "Shut.  Up.  Now."  She took a swig of ale, herself, then a bite of sandwich.

Cecelia suppressed a giggle, then nodded.  "I'll do my best," she whispered, then accepted another bite of sandwich.  It was a big sandwich (thankfully), and there was still a lot remaining.

Unbeknownst to the maids enjoying their shared lunch, Nora had tiptoed from the kitchen in their wake and was listening at the door, a happy (and mischievous) smile curling her lips.  Elyse was doing a masterful job.  Her Ladyship's "plan" might best be described as vague guidelines and a wishlist of desired outcomes, more an exercise in improvisation than an actual plan, but Elyse had risen to the challenge.  Probably because she has the hots for the little Yank, Nora mused.  Understandable.  What's not to like?

Nora turned and silently returned to the kitchen.  It wouldn't do for Her Ladyship or the American trespasser with the short hair to have to wait for their chicken salad sandwiches.

After lunch, Lady Caerwyn gifted Cat with a complete set of her published works: three oversize volumes of photographs, the sort of things Cat usually referred to as "coffee-table books."  Jocelyn then excused herself, explaining that she had letters to write.

Cat returned to her bedroom with her new books, settled into the easy-chair next to the window, and opened the first volume.  She perused the first few pages... and her reaction could be summarized with a single word: "Wow."

The photographs in the first book were all black and white, most with dark backgrounds and indirect light.  All the models were nude, and were obviously fit, curvaceous, and no doubt very attractive women—and doubt was possible only because their faces were never fully revealed.  Whenever their features would have been in a picture, they were hidden behind a veil of their hair.  Some photos were dominated by shapely legs, others by sculpted abdomens (with just the right amount of baby fat), yet others by dimpled buttocks, firm thighs, toned arms, full or perky breasts, strong backs, etc., etc.  Yes, the models were beautiful, but the real stars of the show were the intricate, carefully placed, well-hitched bands and elegant, elaborate junctions of three-strand, hemp or jute rope.

Cat was impressed.  Cat was amazed.  Cat was doing her best to ignore the delicate thrill shivering between her legs as she turned the pages.  Yes, Cat realized she was aroused... just a little.

In Cat's semi-educated opinion, Lady Caerwyn's bondage technique was Japanese, but without being slavishly traditional.  Some binds were straightforward, what Cat thought of as "Western" in style, but most were an exercise in human/rope macramé.  Fusion, Cat decided.  Like a Japanese/Chinese fusion restaurant... only it's East meets West with rope.

Book two was more of the same, but with a handful of color photos mixed in with the black and white.  Book three was totally in color.  The model's faces remained out of the frame or were veiled by their hair—but Jocelyn's subjects were brunettes, redheads, and blondes, and some had straight, raven-black hair, fair skin, and may have been Asian.  She turned the page and smiled.  The model depicted on the new page had dark, shining skin, and clearly was of African heritage.  Where does she get her models? Cat wondered.

Cat turned the page, again, and found a particularly striking photo.  It was in color, like the rest of the book, and the model was bound with her hands behind her back and her arms pinned to her sides by a complex web of interlaced, diamond-hitched rope.  It must have taken Jocelyn a very long time to craft the intricate pattern of entwined strands.  And speaking of the model...

Cat frowned.  The photo had been taken mostly of the model's front, and she was bent forward at the waist.  And she was definitely a she.  She had boobs.  They weren't huge, but they were big, especially hanging as she leaned forward with rope looped around each base—but that wasn't what Cat found to be so very interesting.  The model's hair was brown and tousled, but through the chestnut waves Cat could just barely make out a pair of lips curled in a mischievous smile, and Cat thought she recognized that smile.  Nora?  Maybe.  Possibly.

The frown faded and Cat's lips curled in a mischievous smile of her own.  Nora posed for Her Ladyship?  That's... interesting.

"Well, what do you think?"

Cat flinched in surprise... and blushed.  Lady Caerwyn was standing in the open doorway, a smile on her exquisite face.  "Your books are wonderful!" Cat gushed.  "Really good stuff!  Thank you... again."  Cat's cheeks were burning, and she didn't know why.  What have I got to be embarrassed about? she wondered.

"I forgot to tell you that we would be dressing for dinner," Jocelyn continued.

Suddenly, Cat realized it was quite late in the day.  Without realizing it, she'd whiled away the entire afternoon gazing at Lady Caerwyn's photographs.  Cat placed the third book on the side-table, atop the first two, then watched as Jocelyn walked to the wardrobe, opened the doors, and sorted through the clothes hanging within.

"Oh dear," Jocelyn sighed.  "I was afraid of this.  Nora gave you only one of my daughters' gowns."

"I can wear the same one," Cat responded.  "I don't mind."

"No, it simply won't do," Jocelyn said as she strode to the chair, took Cat by the hands, and pulled her to her feet.  "Come with me."

Cat followed Cat from the bedroom and into the hall.  "Really.  Why not wear the same gown?"

"It just isn't done," Jocelyn explained with a teasing smile as they climbed the stairs to the next floor.  "Why own more clothes than I can possibly wear without sharing?" she added with a wink.

As expected, their destination was Her Ladyship's bedroom.  It wasn't much bigger than Cat's guest bedroom, but it had an attached bathroom and a huge walk-in closet.  Cat was amazed.  The square-footage was impressive, and on her left and right were closed cabinets and rack upon rack of shoes and stylish clothing for every occasion.  At the far end were a half-dozen full-length mirrors arranged in a semicircle, and overhead was a grid of several tiny spotlights.

"Why don't you get ready, my dear," Jocelyn suggested.

Cat blinked uncertainly.  "Huh?"

Jocelyn smiled.  "Remove your bird-watching kit, darling, so I can fit you with a gown."

Cat's blush returned.  "Oh."  She really didn't have an excuse not to strip.  Jocelyn's logic was unassailable.  Still blushing, Cat removed her hiking boots, followed by her borrowed socks, safari-shirt, cargo shorts, and tank-top.  As each garment was removed, she folded it neatly and placed it on the seat of a straight chair next to the mirrors.

Jocelyn paused in the act of sorting through a rack of various satin and/or silk, full-length, formal gowns.  "The brassiere as well, my dear," she instructed, and returned to selecting a gown for her guest.

Cat opened her mouth to object... then reached behind her back, unclasped her bra, and shrugged out of the straps and cups.  Again, she had no real excuse not to comply.  The gown she'd worn to dinner yesterday had been strapless and worn without a bra, and the same was true of Cecelia's and Her Ladyship's gowns.  No excuse.  She dropped the bra atop her other clothes... then fought the urge to cover her breasts with her folded arms.  It's just us girls, Cat reassured herself (somewhat).

Jocelyn carried over a hanger with something that was much too short to be a gown and hung it from a rack near Cat and the mirrors.

Cat found herself staring at a brief, silky white and beige garment.  It was a... corset?  Meanwhile, still smiling, Jocelyn had flipped a switch on the wall and a motor whirred somewhere overhead.  Cat looked up and watched as a horizontal steel bar lowered from the relative darkness above the lights.  There were three evenly spaced pulleys along its three-foot length and a long, thin, black leather strap dangled from each end.  Steel cables traveled through the pulleys, forming the shape of an "M."  Obviously, there was some sort of winch arrangement mounted to the ceiling, obscured by the glare of the spotlights.

"Have you ever worn a corset before, my dear?"

"Huh?  What?"  Cat's gaze was alternating between Jocelyn's reassuring smile and the lacing bar—and yes, Cat recognized a "lacing bar" when she saw one, even though her previous experience with such things came exclusively from the pages of John Willie's Gwendoline and the Missing Princess.  She realized her left arm was covering her breasts, apparently deciding entirely on its own and independent of her brain that it needed to protect the modesty of her breasts.  Also, her heart was hammering.  "Uh... no," Cat responded, answering Jocelyn's corset question.

"There's no reason to be frightened, Caitlyn," Jocelyn purred as she stepped forward.  "We don't have to use the safety straps."

Cat couldn't help but smile.  She knew when she was being teased.  "No, we don't."  With slow, deliberate (nervous) grace, Cat strolled to the lacing bar, reached out, and grasped it with both hands.  Part of the bar near each of the dangling straps was padded, with indentations that fit the grip of her fingers and thumbs.  She looked back over her shoulder at Jocelyn.  "Like this?"

Still smiling, Jocelyn strolled to Cat and the bar.  "No... not like that."  She wrapped the right strap around Cat's wrist, three times.  "Like this."  The strap gave a quiet creak as she pulled it taut, threaded the end through its attached buckle, and made it secure.  Her eyes locked with Cat's, she walked to the left side and lifted the left strap.  "As I said, we don't have to use the straps."

"And as I said," Cat purred, "no, we don't."  Her smile was just as coy and mischievous as Jocelyn's.

"As long as we're in agreement," Jocelyn said as she wrapped the strap around Cat's left wrist, pulled it tight, and secured the buckle.

Cat watched as Jocelyn walked to the wall and lifted the switch.  The motor hummed, the cable slithered through the pulleys, and the lacing bar slowly rose into the air, taking her wrists and hands with it, of course.  She was smiling, but her heart was still thumping in her chest.

Jocelyn released the switch just as Cat was pulled up onto her toes.  She then slowly, gracefully strolled to her smiling (and obviously somewhat nervous) guest.  "Trust is a great gift, Caitlyn," she said quietly, then leaned close and kissed Cat's lips.  "There is only one gift that is greater."

"Love," Cat said in a whisper.

Jocelyn nodded.  "I promised you that no harm would come to either Cecelia or yourself, and I meant every word.  And you believe me."

Despite her hammering heart, Cat couldn't help but tease her hostess (and captor).  "No... ya think?"

"Cheeky monkey," Jocelyn chuckled.  She looped her fingers through the hips of Cat's borrowed panties and pulled them down her legs.

"Jocelyn!" Cat complained (and giggled) as she stepped free of the panties.  Her cheeks were blushed a bright pink and her smiling lips quivered with nervous tension.

Jocelyn tossed the panties atop the rest of Cat's clothes, then strolled towards the closet door.  "Just for that," she purred.  "You can wait like that while I enjoy a long, hot bath.  We can eat late."

"J-Jocelyn?"  Cat watched over her right shoulder as Jocelyn exited the closet and closed the door.

Her bonds were comfortable, and her toes, feet, and calves weren't complaining... not yet, anyway.  Nude and helpless, all she could do was wait until Her Ladyship returned.  Cat turned her face to the front, and gazed at the multiple reflections of her naked body displayed at different angles in the full-length mirrors.  Her breasts were slightly flattened by her raised arms, but still had sufficient volume to bob, just a tad, as she drew deep, even breaths.  She noted that her nipples were doing their best to point... and her pussy was tingling.

What just happened? Cat thought.  And more importantly, why did I let it happen?

One minute turned into two... and then three.  Cat passed the time by visually examining what she could see of the corset hanging from the rack on her right.  She decided it was off-white or beige.  Ercu, sand, whatever.  It was made of shining silk and lambskin, either that or satin and microfiber suede.  It had stiff, curved stays, closed and tightened by means of long, thin laces traveling through steel grommets, and dangling from the bottom was the end of a single ribbon-thin leather strap.  There were no shoulder straps, and a pair of crescent-moon shelves would support the wearer's breasts like a push-up bra, but would not cover them.

I wonder how tight it will be? Cat wondered.  There was no question of refusing to try the thing.  Cat knew all she had to do was say no, and that would be it.  Granted, she was strapped to "old man lacing bar" and in the perfect pose for Her Ladyship to dress her in the corset. whether she wanted it to happen or not.  She could kick and swear and struggle... but all Jocelyn would have to do would be to summon Nora and have the Staff Mistress bind her ankles and gag her.  Cat focused on the rumpled mass of her panties atop her bra and neatly folded clothes.  She imagined Nora stuffing the panties in her protesting mouth, then using a narrowly folded scarf to keep them there.

That shiver was back between Cat's legs.  Stop it! she scolded her pussy.  This is serious!  Her pussy's response was a resentful... stare?  Whatever.  The thrill of erotic anticipation did ramp down in volume... but it was still there.

Anyway, Cat continued, if I say stop, it will all stop.  She locked eyes with her reflection and heaved a sigh.  And what would be the fun in that?  She tugged on the lacing bar.  And when will I ever get another chance to play like this?

Cat continued pretending she was helpless and suffering.  Actually, she was helpless, but she wasn't suffering, not per se.  Languishing, she mused.  I'm languishing.  That was familiar territory.  Cecelia was usually the one who spent her afternoons tied to chairs, rolling around on the rug, or, on rare occasions, lashed to her bed until dawn, but Cat was also a player.

Minutes passed... and then, the closet door opened.

Cat looked in the mirror and gasped in amazement (and her pussy all but vibrated).  Lady Caerwyn had returned, and she was naked... totally naked!

"I decided to take a quick shower," Jocelyn explained as she slowly, gracefully padded forward, "rather than a full bath."

"Don't I get a shower?" Cat grumbled.  A sly smile curled her lips.

"I don't think you really need one, darling," Jocelyn purred, then stepped behind Cat and placed her hands on her captive guest's waist.  "Besides," she continued, "I like my dinner companions a little... salty."  Their eyes locked in the mirror, Jocelyn leaned to the side and slowly, deliberately, ran her tongue up an inch or two of Cat's right upper arm.

Still smiling, Cat shivered and tugged on her bonds.  Her pussy was tingling like crazy, ignoring all of her brains commands to play it cool.  "Well... I did spend the morning clamoring over the rocks down on the beach."

"And the afternoon gazing at my photographs," Jocelyn purred.  She slid her left hand between Cat's legs and cupped her sex.

Cat gasped, shivered, and bit her lower lip.  Her eyes still locked with Jocelyn's in the mirror, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well..."  Jocelyn removed her hand, walked to the rack, and removed the corset from its hanger.  "Let's get you dressed."

Cat watched in the mirror as Jocelyn padded behind her back, opened the corset, fit it around her torso, then reached around her body and closed the vertical row of clasps down the front, one by one.  It was very nearly an embrace, with Jocelyn and Cat cheek to cheek and Jocelyn's breasts pressed against Cat's back.  Cat shivered, again... not that she'd ever really stopped.  And as for her pussy... it was purring like a kitten... more or less in rhythm with her deep, regular breathing.

Jocelyn took a step back and began the process of tightening the corset's laces.  This took a while, with the garment growing tighter and tighter with each iteration of tugging on the laces and taking in the slack.  The corset did, indeed have stays, as well as the traditional hourglass shape.  The grip of the corset became firm... and then tight... and then very tight, and Jocelyn was still tugging on the laces!

Finally, enough was enough!  Cat felt like she was being squeezed in a vice!  She opened her mouth to complain, then realized Jocelyn had tied the laces in a bow and was now tucking the loops and ends to the side and closing a lacy flap that secured with Velcro and hid the laces and grommets entirely.  The corset was tight, and her reflection now had what could only be called a wasp-waist, but truth be told, it wasn't that bad.  If asked, Cat would bitch and moan and play the martyr, but it wasn't that bad.

Cat's breasts were supported by the corset but not covered, just as she'd suspected would be the case.  Jocelyn thumbed the switch, the lacing bar lowered, Cat's arms slowly dropped, her breasts settled into the cups... and were pushed up.  Wow, she thought.  I have boobs... and nipples.  With her arms lowered, the nipples in question were now free to point... and they did.

Jocelyn released Cat's right wrist... then her left... then handed her an opera glove.  It was the same off-white as the corset and its mate was in Jocelyn's left hand.  "You'll need my help to put these on," she said as Cat thrust her hand down the sleeve-length glove.

"I see what you mean," Cat muttered.  There were some sort of tubes lining the fingers.  She wiggled and stretched the glove and managed to pull it on, but found she really needed Jocelyn's help with the second glove.  The tubes were rubbery but stiff and more-or-less immobilized the middle joints of her fingers, making it difficult to do more than flutter the fingers in question.  She left the securing the buttons at the tops of the gloves entirely to Her Ladyship... Her Gloriously Naked Ladyship.

"There," Jocelyn sighed, then stepped to Cat's front.  "One more little detail."  She reached between Cat's legs, grabbed the narrow strap dangling from the back of the corset, made sure it tucked between Cat's dimpled buttocks and her labia, threaded it through a buckle in the lower front of the corset, and pulled out the slack.

Cat gasped as the strap was pulled between her labia.  Her gloved and semi-useless hands were at her sides and her smiling (and nervous) eyes were locked with her hostess.

"That isn't too tight," Jocelyn purred, "is it?"

"The corset, or the strap?" Cat countered, then shook her smiling head.  "No," she admitted.

"I can make the strap tighter," Jocelyn offered, "if you wish."

Cat shook her head, again.  "No, it's just fine as—is!"  Jocelyn had tugged the strap one hole tighter, then secured the buckle.

"Good," Her Ladyship chuckled, then took Cat by the hand and led her from the closet.  There destination was a dressing table with a vanity mirror.  She settled Cat onto the padded bench, facing away from the mirror, then knelt at her feet.

Cat watched with a smile as Her Gloriously Naked & Kneeling Ladyship lifted her right foot and slid it into a beige high-heeled pump, then buckled its attached strap around her ankle and snapped a tiny, heart-shaped padlock through the tongue of the buckle.  And just to be clear, this was a very high-heeled pump.  Stiletto heel pumps.  Ridiculously elevated, ballet point, stiletto heel pumps.  Cat's left foot received similar treatment, then Jocelyn flowed to her bare feet and helped Cat stand.  Cat tottered on the heels, her pointing feet very nearly vertical.

"I realize you're a bit of a tomboy, Caitlyn," Jocelyn purred, "but you have worn heels before, haven't you?"

Cat took a tentative step forward... then two.  "Yes," she muttered, "I have worn heels before, but..."  She frowned at Jocelyn.  "Wait—tomboy?"

Jocelyn chuckled.  "A gamine, hoydenish, delightful tomboy, darling."  She planted a kiss on Cat's lips, then opened a drawer in the dressing table and produced a flat jewelry case.

Cat was still getting used to the shoes.  Running in the things would be an absurd impossibility.  They didn't hurt—for now—but simply walking would be a challenge, whether or not she was a "tomboy," or to what degree.

Meanwhile, Jocelyn opened the case and lifted a diamond bracelet from the velvet cushioned interior.  She fit the bracelet around Cat's right wrist and it closed with an audible and authoritative click.

"Oh!" Cat gasped.  "It's..."  She turned her wrist and watched what had to be a small fortune in white diamonds sparkle and flash.  "Beautiful!"  It was also somewhat heavy, more a cuff than a bracelet.  A small ring dangled from a swivel-mounting, and while there was a hair-thin seam where the two halves of the wide, rather thick cuff/bracelet met, there was no apparent catch, just a tiny... keyhole.  "Oh!" Cat gasped, again.  Jocelyn had closed a second, identical cuff around her left wrist.

There was one more item in the case.  It was similar to the cuffs, with even more of the sparkling diamonds, and while it was just as solid and hefty, it wasn't as thick and had a greater diameter.  Cat realized it was a choker.  She swallowed, nervously, but didn't object or try to mince away when Jocelyn opened the glittering collar and closed it around her neck.  "Oh!" she gasped for the third time, then smiled a rather sheepish smile.  "It's... heavy," she said quietly.

"And a perfect fit," Jocelyn beamed, then padded towards the closet.  "Wait here while I fetch your frock."

Cat was admiring herself in the mirror.  The choker was a perfect fit, close-fitting without being too tight.  She sat back down on the bench to wait.  As long as she'd be wearing Lady Caerwyn's point-shoes—which at the moment were padlocked on her feet—she resolved to sit whenever possible.

Her Nakedness returned with a full-length gown of fawn silk then complemented Cat's shoes and corset.  "Up," she ordered with smile.

Cat sighed and climbed to her feet and tried not to totter on the precarious heels.  Obviously, she'd need Jocelyn's help to get dressed.  Between the shoes and the gloves (and the distraction of Jocelyn's naked hotness) she couldn't do it herself.

Jocelyn dropped the sheath-like garment over Cat's head and pulled it down her corseted body.  It was a full-length, strapless gown, and was a very tight fit.  It just covered Cat's nipples, but at least half of her breasts were still exposed.  It hugged Cat's waist, but horizontal rows of narrow pleats disguised the presence of the underlying corset.

"It's just a tad too long," Jocelyn purred as she pulled up a zipper in the back, "which is to be expected.  I have a few inches of height on you."  She closed a second, shorter zipper down the back of Cat's thighs, then took a step back and smiled.  "Wonderful!" she gushed.  "Turn for me."

Cat managed a rather shaky pirouette, but was distracted by a highly unusual feature of the gown.

It was gorgeous, obviously expensive, hugged Cat's body from her armpits to just below her knees, then continued down to her ankles.  It was like one of those ridiculous outfits worn by Morticia Addams, only tan, or ecru, or beige, or... whatever, instead of inky black.  However—and it was a HUGE however—it had no seat!  That is, there was an oval cutout in the back that left Cat's buttocks totally exposed!  It was déjà-vu-all-over-again with respect to Gwendoline and the Missing Princess!

Cat covered her butt with her gloved hands as best she could, and blushed, furiously.  "Jocelyn!" she complained.  She'd processed Her Ladyship's height comment.  This thing was made for Jocelyn??  That was significant, but her naked butt-cheeks took precedent.  "I can't go anywhere like this!"

Jocelyn smiled, planted a kiss on Cat's lips, then reached around and pulled her guest's hands to the front.  "Trust me, darling," she chuckled.

Cat heard a quiet click, tugged on her wrists, and realized Jocelyn had taken advantage of her distraction to snap another tiny, heart-shaped padlock through the rings in her cuff/bracelets.  Effectively, the hideously expensive and exquisitely beautiful bracelets were now a pair of hideously expensive and exquisitely beautiful handcuffs!  "Jocelyn!" she whined.

"Wait here, dear," Jocelyn purred, then spun on her bare feet and padded to the closet.

Cat continued tugged on her wrists as she watched Jocelyn dress through the open closet door.  Panties were followed by a very pretty, mulberry-red, strapless gown, which in turn were followed by a matching pair of open-toed heels (without locking ankle straps).  Her Ladyship took her time, but the task of clothing her perfect body was accomplished with practiced grace.  It was only about a minute before she was gliding back into the main bedroom.

"Time for dinner," Jocelyn purred.

"J-Jocelyn!" Cat whined.  "I can't.  Cecelia.  Cecelia will see me."

Still smiling, Jocelyn clipped the end of a leash—a leash!—to the ring in the front of Cat's choker/collar.  She then leaned close and kissed one of Cat's furiously blushing cheeks.  "I have everything under control," she chuckled.  "Trust me."

Jocelyn stepped off... and Cat had no choice but to mince in her wake.  She certainly has me under control, Cat mused.  "Y-you'll have to help me on the stairs," she muttered.

"I will, dear," Jocelyn responded.  "As I promised... no harm."