|by Van © 2016
BETWEEN THE corset, opera gloves, and
strapless, shoulder-baring designer gown (with the butt-baring
cutout)—all in silky beige—not to mention the diamond-encrusted
choker around her throat and the diamond-encrusted handcuffs on
her wrists, Cat didn't think her dinner with Lady Caerwyn could
get any more strange or embarrassing (not to mention exciting).
She was wrong.
Nora returned from whatever disciplinary outrage she'd been
inflicting on the maids—one of whom was Cat's very own
goddaughter—and had served the meal. She'd also fed Cat by
hand, spoonful by spoonful and fork-load by fork-load. As
Cat's own hands were in her lap and she was unable to feed
herself, there was no other viable option, other than going
hungry. But first, Nora muttered something about not
allowing American trespassers to ruin expensive gowns they had
no business wearing in the first place, then deployed
"protection" in the form of what was either a giant bib, a clear
plastic poncho, a disposable drop-cloth, or all of the above.
The plastic sheet had a small and mildly uncomfortable neck
opening that secured by means of a plastic snap, and was the
weight and strength of shrink-wrap, the sort of thing used to
cover leftovers for storage in the refrigerator. It was
also somewhat clingy, in that it had an alarming tendency to
adhere to Cat's shoulders and cleavage. Nora helped the
adhesion process with her grabby hands. After dropping the
clear, fluttering plastic over Cat's head and snapping the snap,
the Staff Mistress proceeded to use said hands to make very sure
the plastic clung to every square inch of Cat's exposed—meaning
no longer exposed—skin.
The plastic was clammy and sticky, and became increasingly so as
Cat began to sweat.
Jocelyn watched Nora's preparations with clear amusement,
sipping wine as Nora ran her hands over Cat's squirming body for
maximum effect, tucked in the sheet's loose ends, and fussed
with her pouting guest.
The now plastic-wrapped Cat could have complained, not that it
would have done any good, but decided to go with stony silence
and sullen resentment. Also, with blushing. Cat's
cheeks burned like crazy, and unless it was her imagination, the
tops of her bulging and now plastic-wrapped boobs were also
flushed... and damp.
Yes, Cat knew she could probably put an end to the entire
humiliating "ordeal" with a few well-chosen words, but
realistically, when would be her next opportunity to play a game
this deliciously kinky? It was like something out of an
erotic novel, and a really good erotic novel, at that,
not that Cat's collection of smutty paperbacks was all that
extensive. Far from it. Anyway, she decided to
remain stoically silent... and to wait and see how things
At long last the meal commenced, and as course followed course,
Nora served Jocelyn first, rather than Cat, her Ladyship's
guest, explaining to Cat sotto voce that as she would be
feeding Cat like a messy toddler, Her Ladyship could hardly be
expected to wait in hunger. It was hardly an
apology. Nora's attitude continued to be only marginally
polite. Cat could tell it was an act (probably), and she
could also tell that Jocelyn was finding the awkward scene to be
the very height of social frivolity.
Anyway, soup was followed by fish in a creamy sauce... which was
followed by some sort of braised beef in thick brown gravy...
which was followed by a garden salad dripping with
vinaigrette... which was followed by plums in port. In
each case, Nora spooned or forked the food in question into
Cat's mouth with practiced efficiency. Unfortunately—or,
as Cat was coming to suspect, deliberately—during the
feeding process a little soup or sauce or dressing always
managed to dribble from Cat's mouth, down her chin, and onto her
plastic-wrapped chest and/or upper breasts. Nora wasn't
throwing food at her face, far from it, but Cat could tell she
was rapidly becoming a disgraceful sight.
Cat ignored the glowering (and grinning) Staff Mistress
shoveling food into her mouth, licked her lips as best she could
between bites, and favored her blond hostess with a dignified
expression. Whining and sulking wasn't Cat's style.
Okay, sulking... maybe. Cat was only human.
Finally, the meal was over. Nora's final act was to
release the giant bib's neck-snap and divest Cat of the plastic
sheet, making sure none of the spots of food found their way to
the underlying gown in the process. Then, with a final bow
to Her Ladyship (and a disdainful smirk in Cat's direction) the
Staff Mistress was gone.
"Well, I hope that was enjoyable," Jocelyn said as she rose from
"Delish," Cat muttered with an even stare. The sweat on
her shoulders, neck, and boobs was drying, and the resulting
cool tingle were one more thing for her to ignore.
Jocelyn clipped the leash back to Cat's choker and helped her
from her chair. She then wet a napkin in a water glass and
used it to lightly scrub Cat's cheeks and pouting lips.
"Such a messy, petulant tomboy," Her Ladyship chuckled as she
completed her impromptu toilette and dropped the napkin on the
Cat's bare butt was tingling. She supposed it was a
natural reaction to no longer being squashed into the soft
cushion of the chair. The leash snapped taut and they left
the dining room. The smile curling Lady Caerwyn's lips was
infuriating... as was the graceful swing of her legs as
her hips swung and her elegant gown swished... as was her
strong, swinging arms and bare shoulders... and the swing and
sway of her long, blond (with gray highlights) hair. Infuriating!
Okay, Jocelyn was the most elegant, refined, aristocratically hot
thing Cat had ever seen, and Cat felt like she was Alice in
Kinky Wonderland, but her role was that of "petulant tomboy," so
Her Ladyship's role was to be "infuriating." I suppose
she can be hot and infuriating, Cat silently
Cat realized they were retracing their steps to Her Ladyship's
bedroom. They passed the "cruel shoes" on the stairs, but
apparently Jocelyn didn't feel the need to retrieve the
stiletto-pumps or place them back on Cat's bare feet, for which
she was very grateful.
Finally, they were back in the bedroom. Cat's heart was
hammering, again, and her bosom bulged against the tight
confines of the corset and gown as she drew deep, even
breaths. Her butt cheeks were no longer tingling, but they
were there... both of them... and they were naked. Also,
the evil, despicable crotch-strap cleaving her labia was sending
shivers through her pussy. Yeah, it's the strap,
Cat decided as Jocelyn led her into the walk-in closet. That's
what's causing it.
Jocelyn proceeded to undress her guest. The gown was
first, of course. The ribbon was untied from Cat's gloved
thumbs, the clasps and zippers released, the sheath slithered to
the floor, and Cat stepped free. The corset was next, and
the lacing bar wasn't required for its removal. Her
Ladyship released the crotch strap—which felt very
good—then the corset's laces and clasps. Finally, Cat was
naked, but for the silky, beige opera gloves and her
diamond-encrusted cuffs and choker.
Cat stared at her torso in the closet's multiple mirrors,
lifting her gloved arms and cuffed hands for a better
view. The corset had left marks, but they weren't serious
and she was sure they would quickly fade. No longer
supported by the corset's push-up shelves, her breasts were back
to their usual firm, perky selves. Her nipples were a
little flushed and erect... a little... but she supposed that
was only natural... if anything about this spectacularly wacky
evening could be called "natural."
The blush returned to Cat's cheeks, the ones on her face, not
her bare butt-cheeks. She'd realized Jocelyn was admiring
her in the mirrors... all of her. Their
reflections locked eyes... then Cat lowered her gaze and focused
on her toes.
"Why don't you go use the facilities, darling?" Jocelyn
suggested, then reached behind her back and unzipped her own
gown. "I'll be right behind you."
Cat blushed, or rather, continued blushing.
"Okay," she said in a whisper, then turned and left the
closet. As she padded to the bathroom she realized that
she should have asked for her hideously expensive cuffs to be
unlocked. The glittering bracelets were joined in front,
so it wasn't like she was totally helpless. Truth
be told, the stiff fingers of the opera gloves would be the
worst impediment. Also, the gloves themselves. She
couldn't splash her face without wetting the gloves, and she had
no idea whether or not that would damage the fabric. Best
to err on the side of caution.
Cat gingerly sat on the commode and relieved herself—number
one—then delicately (meaning awkwardly) used a fold of toilet
paper to pat herself dry. As she flushed the john, Jocelyn
joined her in the bathroom.
Cat realized she was staring at her hostess (captor).
Jocelyn was naked... as in nude... again... and she was as
beautiful as ever. Cat continued staring as Her Ladyship
sat on the commode and relieved herself—also a number one—then
wiped herself and flushed the bowl. There was something
incredibly intimate about watching the naked aristocrat perform
such a mundane function.
"I-I like your breasts," Cat said quietly—then her eyes popped
wide and her blush deepened. Why did I say that? she
chided herself. Granted, they were exquisite
breasts... but why did I say that?
Her Ladyship's response was a coy smile, as well as a delicate
blush. "Thank you, Caitlyn," Jocelyn purred, stepped
forward, and gently cupped Cat's breasts. "I also like
your breasts, darling."
With her hands cuffed in front, Cat could have done something
about Jocelyn's hands, but for some inexplicable reason... she
didn't. "Your breasts are bigger," Cat whispered.
She was panting, again, just a little. It was enough to
make her boobs rise and fall in Jocelyn's gentle grip.
Also, her nipples were pointing like crazy... and Cat realized
Jocelyn's nips were pointing, as well.
"I'm not at all sure that's the case, darling," Jocelyn purred
as she gently massaged Cat's breasts. "Your breasts are a
delightful handful." The massage continued. "I
suppose we should brush our teeth," Her Ladyship purred.
Cat shivered and closed her eyes. "Hmm..." she agreed,
then she opened her eyes, again. Jocelyn had released her
breasts, stepped to the washbasin, and was loading a toothbrush
with paste. Cat watched as Jocelyn brushed her teeth, and
she was doing it by the book, crosswise and lengthwise, front
and back. She then spat in the sink, rinsed her mouth,
swished for several seconds, then spat, again.
Jocelyn reloaded the brush with paste, then held it before Cat's
Cat opened her mouth, and allowed Her Ladyship to brush her
teeth. Jocelyn was just as thorough as she'd been with the
cleaning of her own mouth. She was also gentle. Cat
realized that at some point, her embarrassed blushing had become
flushed arousal. Jocelyn rinsed the brush, then filled a
water glass and held it to Cat's lips. She rinsed her
mouth and spit in the sink, then Jocelyn led her from the
Their destination was the dressing table, and Cat watched as
Jocelyn used a tiny key to unlock the heart-shaped padlock
joining her diamond cuffs, then unlocked and removed the cuffs
and returned them to their jewelry case. The choker was
next, and now, Cat was as naked as her hostess, except for the
beige opera-gloves hugging her fingers, hands, wrists, and arms
from her fingertips to above her elbows. Cat assumed they
would be removed next. She was wrong.
Jocelyn pulled Cat's hands behind her back, opened a drawer in
the dressing table and pulled out a long, narrow, dark-brown
ribbon, and proceeded to bind Cat's crossed wrists
together. Cat watched in the mirror as Jocelyn's deft
fingers pulled strand after strand of ribbon tight, around and
between her wrists in both directions... in all directions...
then tied an elegant knot and tucked the free ends under the
bindings between her arms and well away from her useless
Why did I let her do that? Cat wondered as she twisted
her wrists and tested her new bonds. Her heart was still
hammering and her breasts bobbing as she panted. She was
also still blushing... or was still aroused. Anyway, she
could tell that unless the ribbon's final knot decided to
magically fall apart on its own, she would be Her Ladyship's
prisoner until released.
Jocelyn pulled a second long, narrow, brown ribbon from the
drawer, then took Cat by the arm and led her to the center of
the bedroom. "Down on the carpet, darling," she purred,
pointing at the thick, plush pile under their bare feet.
"Huh?" Cat asked (profoundly). "The carpet?" She
turned and looked at the bed—the gigantic, four-post, no doubt
decadently comfortable bed she'd assumed would be their ultimate
destination—then turned back to blink at Her Ladyship.
Smiling a coy (evil) smile, Jocelyn pointed to the floor but
said nothing more.
Cat heaved a sigh, settled onto her rump, and watched as Jocelyn
knelt, pulled her feet together, and began binding her ankles
with the second ribbon. Her ankles were joined, the
bindings cinched, then the remaining ribbon used to crisscross
her feet with an elegant "X"-shaped hitch, then bind her big
toes together. Cat flexed her bound feet and toes.
"Ow!" she complained, but truth be told, Her Ladyship had left
her plenty of wiggle room.
Cat continued struggling as Jocelyn gracefully stood, strolled
to the bed, pulled back the covers, then climbed between the
sheets. Her back against the pillows piled against the
headboard, Jocelyn stretched her arms, then smiled at the
prisoner on the carpet.
Cat tugged on her bound wrists and favored her captor with a
"My slender, fit, petulant little tomboy," Jocelyn purred.
Cat tugged on her bonds, again. "Yeah, I got yer 'petulant
tomboy' right here," she huffed. She would have
liked to have flipped her hostess the bird, but between her
hands being bound behind her back and the opera gloves' stiff
fingers, that was impossible—but she was sure Lady Caerwyn got
"Wonderful," Jocelyn chuckled. "I truly love your charming
"Yeah," Cat huffed, continuing to fight her bonds, "you can take
the girl out of Brooklyn, strip her naked and tie her up, but
you can't take the Brooklyn out of the girl."
Jocelyn laughed in delight. "Yes," she agreed, then
carefully composed herself. "Now, emotionally, this
evening has unfolded quickly, as I'm sure you'll agree, and I
sense you've not really had a chance to sort out your feelings."
Cat heaved a sigh, then gave her wrists a final, futile
twist. "No," she admitted. "I haven't."
"Well," Jocelyn continued. "Now would be the perfect
opportunity. It's also a good time for us to discuss the
remainder of your visit."
"Uh..." Cat swallowed, nervously. "Okay... I guess."
"You guess," Jocelyn chuckled. "Very well. Now, I
want you to continue struggling as we chat, and feel free to
roll around and make your efforts as energetic as
possible. I find it most entertaining to watch a damsel in
distress convince herself that she is well and truly helpless."
That tingle was back between Cat's legs, in spades.
"Okay." She gave her bonds another weak tug and her feet a
"Oh, I'll need to see more enthusiasm than that," Jocelyn
purred. Her evil smile was back. "In fact, let's see
you work up a bit of a sweat for the next five minutes. Then
Cat favored her gorgeously hot, naked, infuriatingly smug
hostess with her best "petulant tomboy" pout, then set to
work. She didn't really have much choice in the matter.
down in the dungeons..." Cecelia whispered with a sigh.
She was lying on her back and box-tied arms in the straw with
Elyse embracing her from the side. Round one of Cecelia's
"finger-fiddling" lesson was a thing of the past... as was round
"What was that, darling?" Elyse purred. She gave Cecelia's
body a squeeze, then ran her smooth, surprisingly strong hands
over her student's abdomen and breasts.
Cecelia heaved another sigh. "I was just thinkin' that if
I was writin' this as a story, the next part would start
somethin' like... 'Upstairs in the dark, silent castle, Lady
Caerwyn slept in her giant, oh-so-comfortable bed—the gawky
American with the freakishly short hair slumbered in the
palatial guest room she'd done nothing to deserve—and Nora, the
fiendishly evil Staff Mistress, hung by her heels from the
rafters of her tower lair with the other bats.' Words to
that effect. Isn't that what you think is goin'
"Mistress Nora does not sleep like a bat," Elyse
giggled, "I assure you."
"If you say so," Cecelia sighed. "Anyway...
'Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, the wicked ginger maid had
finished ravishing the beautiful American with the long, golden
tresses, the other American." She paused before
continuing for a huge, kittenish yawn. "And the pair
drifted off to sleep."
"Oh no you don't," Elyse giggled. "Your lessons for
the evening aren't complete."
Cecelia sighed, again, and this time with more than a hint of
exasperation. "I think I've got the finger thing down
pat," she huffed. "Untie me and I'll show you."
Elyse released her embrace, climbed onto Cecelia, and settled
her weight onto the helpless blonde's tummy. The chain
connecting their collars rattled as Elyse arranged the links to
the side and out of the way. The smile dimpling the ginger
maid's cheeks and curling her pink lips was undeniably
evil. Cecelia couldn't help but smile back.
Elyse brushed an errant strand of blond hair from Cecelia's
face. "Do you really think Mistress Cat is 'gawky' and her
hair 'freakishly short?' I think she's beautiful."
She leaned close and kissed Cecelia's lips. "Like you."
"Cat's beautiful," Cecelia admitted. "I've always thought
Cat was beautiful... just don't tell her I said so."
"Mum's the word," Elyse giggled, then plucked the loose panties
from the straw beside Cecelia's head, gave the slightly
saliva-dampened mass a shake, and began picking the loose straw
from the silky white folds.
Cecelia eyed the process of Elyse cleaning the panties with
apprehension. "Uh... seriously... I'm tired.'
"At least you're finally serious," Elyse giggled, then crumpled
the panties into a compact wad. "Say 'ah,' darling."
"Ah, c'mon," Cecelia whined. "There's no need to—m'mrmf!"
"Not 'ah, c'mon,'" Elyse giggled as she stuffed the panties into
Cecelia's mouth. "just 'ah' will do." She used the
folded scarf to give her glowering student another tight
cleave-gag, this time placing the square-knot directly over
Cecelia's silk-stuffed mouth. "Sound echoes from these
stone walls, darling," she explained as she combed the tousled
hair from Cecelia's face, "and you've already made it quite
clear that you're a screamer."
"Mrrm'pfh," Cecelia growled, staring daggers at her smiling
instructor. The Gaglish to English translation of the
glowering blonde's remark was "Eat me," but little did she
suspect that eating was more-or-less exactly what Elyse
had in mind.
"Now," Elyse continued, "we've already covered the use of
fingers..." She extended her legs and wiggled down
Cecelia's body until her smiling face was inches from Cecelia's
pussy and her hands on the bound and gagged blonde's inner
thighs. The long chain joining their collars was no
impediment to Elyse's change of position. "Our next
introductory lesson—" Elyse paused to deliberately blow a
few errant fragments of straw from Cecelia's labia. "—will
concern the use of lips and tongue."
"Mrrrf!" Cecelia tried closing her legs, but Elyse was too
strong. Anyway, that was Cecelia's story and she was
sticking to it. The petite, ginger maid's pale, delicate
hands were too strong and Cecelia's thigh muscles were too weak
for her to resist. A delicate shiver rippled through
Cecelia's pussy and up her spine as Elyse extended her tongue
and delivered a long, deep, languid lick to Cecelia's flushed,
Elyse paused in her latest lesson to smile and gaze up the
length of her student's bound body and focus on her gagged and
shining face. "I'm telling Mistress Nora that you said she
sleeps like a bat," she said. "You'll be lucky if she ever
lets you go back to being Her Ladyship's guest."
It wasn't at all clear whether or not Cecelia had heard Elyse's
teasing threat; however, it was very clear that she was
aware of the wicked ginger's darting, flicking tongue.
struggling on the thick, soft carpet, struggling to the point
that she did work up a bit of a sweat, as Her Ladyship had
ordered; however, she made no headway towards the goal of
escaping from Jocelyn's cunningly tied ribbons. Her wrists
remained crossed behind her back and her feet tightly and
elegantly bound at the ankles, insteps, soles, and big
toes. She had no idea if five minutes had actually passed,
but enough was enough.
Clad only in the skintight, silky, beige opera-gloves with the
stiff fingers, her tan skin shining with a patina of sweat, and
her ribbon-bonds completely intact, Cat rolled onto her side,
lifted her pouting head, and glared at the gorgeous,
naked aristocrat comfortably reclined between the cool,
comfortable sheets of her gigantic bed. Nostrils flaring
and breasts heaving (slightly), Cat continued to glare.
"My petulant tomboy," Jocelyn chuckled, then stretched her arms
to either side and yawned. "Eyah!" She covered her
sheepishly smiling mouth with the back of one hand.
"Pardon me," she purred, then threw back the sheets and patted
the mattress at her side. "Come join me, darling," she
Cat continued glaring... and breathing deeply... and glaring.
"You don't really want to sleep on the cold floor,"
Jocelyn teased, "do you?"
Truth be told, the floor was hardly what Cat would call 'cold,'
but the bed was enticing... not to mention the sight of the
naked Lady Caerwyn... with her long, loose, blond hair (with
gray highlights), as well as her breasts, smooth skin, breasts,
firm, athletic body, and breasts.
Do I really want to do this? Cat thought. Jocelyn
smiled at her from the bed, her arms spread wide. "Well,"
Cat grumbled, "if I have to." She began squirming
and struggling. Her actions were more-or-less identical to
her earlier, futile efforts to escape, but this time they
propelled her in the direction of the bed and its beautiful
occupant. "Ow!" she complained. Her bound toes
didn't really hurt... much... but petulant tomboys complain
about such things... and evil, beautiful, aristocratic tyrants
enjoy it when they do... so Cat complained.
A thrill rippled through Jocelyn's body as she watched the proud
American hoyden wiggle and squirm in her direction. So
beautiful, she mused, so strong... but one task
remains. "Wait, darling," she purred.
Cat checked her struggling progress, lifted her chin, and glared
at Jocelyn. "What?" she demanded.
"Do you want to be here, darling?" Jocelyn said, quietly.
"Do you want to share my bed?"
Cat considered making a flippant answer, but sensed that her
hostess was serious. This was part of the game, but not
part of the entertainment. Cat's heart was hammering,
again, and the thrill was back between her legs. Moment
of truth, she thought.
Silence stretched in the darkened bedroom.
Cat's skin gleamed in the light of the bedside lamp.
Jocelyn's fair, smooth skin seemed to glow.
The issue wasn't really in doubt. Cat might be bound and
helpless, but she knew Jocelyn only played at being the cruel
captor, and with a light hand.
On her part, Jocelyn could tell her guest's (playmate's)
reluctance was feigned. She was sure of it.
Finally, a delicate blush touching her shining cheeks, Cat
heaved a sigh and spoke. "Yes," she said, and resumed her
ribbon-bound, naked, squirming journey. She could have
said more, but she didn't need to say more.
Jocelyn's smile broadened and she flung her arms wide in
Harrington was naked and tied up... very tied up.
Her wrists were behind her back and bound with an excessive
quantity of thin cord. More cord bound her legs together
and pinned her arms against her torso, and once again, the
operative word was 'excessive.' Mrs. Ingleby had done the
deed, and she'd used many, many yards of cord in the
A complete inventory of the the ginger shop girl's bound anatomy
included her big toes, the insteps and soles of her feet—her
ankles—her lower legs, around her calves and shins and just
below her knees—her upper legs just above her knees and around
her mid-thighs—her wrists, with her hands palm-to-palm—her
forearms and waist—her elbows, with them nearly touching—and her
upper arms and torso, with cord bands yoking her shoulders and
passing above, below, and between her breasts.
There were four additional features of Kadence's bondage:
(1) Her fingers were wrapped in tight, overlapping layers of
stretchy medical tape, the kind used to secure compression
bandages. Mrs. Ingleby had first wrapped each hand
separately, then both hands together. The result was a
single useless "flipper."
(2) A cats-cradle of thin cords dove between the captive's legs
and linked her wrist bonds to the cords binding her forearms and
waist bonds. The resulting "crotch web" pressed her bound
and tape-wrapped wrists and hands firmly against her
butt-cheeks, cleaved her pussy, and pinched her labia
together against the elaborately and repeatedly knotted central
(3) Her long, straight, ginger hair was plaited in a single
tight braid around more of the thin cord. The braid was
back upon itself and neatly wrapped for several inches with more
cord, forming a loop convenient as either a handle or a lashing
point, should Mrs. Ingleby decide to add it to her other bondage
or use it as a tethering point.
(4) A ring-gag was buckled and padlocked in Kadence's
mouth. The padded ring was wedged behind her teeth,
propping her mouth wide open, and the strap was tight enough to
make her flushed cheeks bulge.
Kadence heaved a sad, drooling sigh. As Lady Caerwyn's
American guests would say, this was not her first rodeo.
She could read the signs. Mrs. Ingleby was
frustrated. All the action of the latest game was on the
Isle of Caer, with only poor, innocent Kadence Harrington
available for the Wicked Witch of the Village to scratch her
This was a somewhat impolite description of the situation, but
Kadence wasn't in a charitable mood. Eunice Ingleby wasn't
the only resident of Lytham-on-Ribble who wished she was
visiting the castle and participating in the fun. Far from
it, and the knotted cords sliding through the ginger captive's
cord-pinched pussy whenever she tried to move was not
what she had in mind when she'd "volunteered" to be Eunice's
guest for the evening.
And as for the ring-gag, usually, when Eunice was in one of her
excessively wicked moods, a gag meant a crumpled pairs of
knickers, a couple of narrowly folded scarves, a folded pair of
knickers and an over-the-mouth scarf as both muffling and
padding, and finally, most of a roll of duct-tape, medical
plaster, or electrical tape, stretched tight in overlapping
layers to mummify her lower face from nostrils to chin.
Ridiculously over-the-top bondage calls for a ridiculously
over-the-top gag. The fact that Kadence's mouth was
propped open, instead, meant that Eunice had plans for
her tongue. The Wicked Witch was serious about getting her
itch scratched, but she wasn't in a mood to make it easy for
poor, helpless Kadence.
Finally, with her legs just about as tightly and thoroughly tied
together as was inhumanly possible—with the labia-pinching
crotch-web of flesh-dimpling cord—tonight would be all about
Eunice. Kadence was here to serve. Mrs. Ingleby was
being supremely selfish! Only one occupant of
Eunice's bed would have her bell rung this night, and it
wouldn't be Kadence Harrington.
Kadence was angry enough to spit! But all she could do was
wiggle a little... and drool. She was also about as hot,
bothered, and aroused as was humanly possible. She tingled
from her ring-gagged head to her bound toes, and it wasn't from
loss of circulation. Eunice Ingleby had been thorough—excessively
thorough—but Kadence knew there would be no long-term harm from
the expertly applied plethora of thin cord.
At the moment, Kadence was alone in the bedroom, wiggling and
drooling on Eunice's bed. Her hostess and captor had
completed her bondage, then announced that she needed to make a
telephone call. Kadence considered this further evidence
of the Wicked Witch's frustrated mood, that she would bind and
gag her poor, innocent, naked self, and then decide to
chat on the phone. Delayed gratification.
Just then, Eunice breezed back into the bedroom, back to the
scene of her hideous damsel-binding crime. A happy smile
curled her evil lips, a sparkle was in her fiendish eyes, and
her gossamer-thin robe was open and flapping, revealing her
matching nightie... not that her sleeping costume would have
been up to concealing the Wicked Witch's body if the robe's thin
belt had been properly cinched. Good Lord she's
beautiful for an old crone, Kadence sighed. Despite
being the victim of the crime in question, Kadence couldn't help
but be aroused by Eunice Ingleby... kindly hotel and public
house keeper by day, scantily clad dominatrix by night.
"Is Lily Hardwell ready to take care of the shop on her own for
a few days, Kadence, darling?" Eunice inquired as she padded to
the bed and removed her robe.
Kadence blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, then
nodded her ring-gagged head (freeing more saliva to drip down
her chin). Lily Hardwell was the latest in the endless
stream of village maidens being groomed as possible future maids
to serve Lady Caerwyn. She was currently a part time
shop-girl at Titania's Wardrobe, starting out the same
way Kadence had started her "career" as a Caerwyn
retainer. Of course, Lily was still a schoolgirl and not
yet initiated into the more erotic aspects of castle
service. However, Lily was a clever and trustworthy
youngster (not to mention very easy on the eyes), and Kadence
was sure she was up to the task of running the shop on her own
for a while. And the village network of ex-maids would
help as required.
"Good," Eunice chuckled as she opened a lower drawer of the
nightstand. "Nora says the American tourists' visit to the
Isle of Caer continues to unfold as expected, and Her Ladyship
has extended an invitation for the two of us to join the party."
Kadence's eyes popped wide as she watched Eunice pull her
butterfly vibrator from the drawer. It was purple,
translucent latex, with an embedded pill-vibrator and a battery
pack and variable control attached by a long, thin wire.
And it did, indeed, take the shape of a butterfly. A
harness of thin, elastic straps were ready to hold the butterfly
tightly in place, snuggled against a damsel's pussy; however, as
Kadence watched, Eunice unsnapped the clips securing the
vibrator to the harness. Eunice returned the tangle of
black elastic bands to the drawer, then her hand returned with
several tiny black cable-ties.
Still smiling her wicked smile and her eyes still sparkling,
Eunice rolled Kadence onto her back and bound arms, then
proceeded to install the butterfly as intended, only using the
cord crotch-web and cable-ties in lieu of the harness.
Kadence didn't resist. Not only would it be pointless to
try, but Eunice's reaction was unpredictable. Kadence was
already surprised by the appearance of the butterfly, and didn't
want to tip the scale towards arbitrary punishment for the
offense of "blatant disobedience." She stared at the
control in Eunice's hand, then shifted her focus to her captor's
(lover's) smiling face.
Edith turned the dial of the controller... one click... two
clicks... and the butterfly came to life. It was not on
full power. Far from it. The latex insect was just barely
Kadence shivered in her bonds. She couldn't help it.
Also, it was expected.
"Apparently," Eunice said as she tucked the controller under a
strand of Kadence's crotch-web, "Everyone at the castle is
having a most enjoyable evening, the exception being poor
Nora. I gave her permission to play with herself, of
course. It's the least I could do, but Nora is alone in
her bed, the only resident or guest without a companion for the
evening. Poor Nora."
Kadence continued shivering. Poor Nora, indeed.
Kadence had served under Staff Mistress Nora Rigby and was of
the opinion that "Poor Nora" deserved a little erotic
frustration now and then. She wasn't serious, of
course. That said, one day Kadence Harrington might assume
the role of Castle Caerwyn's Staff Mistress, if she was
lucky. She resolved to be a kind and benevolent overseer,
making life easier for her cousin Elyse, Lily Hardwell, or any
other village maiden who toiled under her supervision... not!
Without a capriciously cruel House Mistress, the entire Castle
Caerwyn dynamic would fall apart. It would ruin the game,
and Kadence certainly didn't want that to happen.
No one in the village (meaning those in the know, of course)
wanted that to happen.
"Anyway," Eunice said as she reclined against the pillows piled
against the headboard, "tomorrow you'll arrange for Lily to keep
the shop open, I'll see to operations at The Blood Rose and
Trumpet in my absence, and we'll make our way to the
Castle, either tomorrow evening or the next day." She
stretched before continuing. "In the meanwhile..." she
hitched up the bottom hem of her nightie and made a languid
gesture towards her splayed legs and waiting pussy. She
wasn't wearing knickers. "Wiggle your way down there and
entertain your hostess."
Kadence was still shivering. The butterfly was working its
magic. Not only was it vibrating, but it was causing the
knotted cords cleaving her pussy and the cords pinching her
labia to vibrate as well.
Eunice's smile turned even more wicked and evil. "And
don't you dare cum until given permission," she purred.
"Our impending visit to the castle may have put me in a more
generous mood, but not that generous. If you want
to avoid punishment and have a nice, pleasant orgasm of your
own, you'll earn it." She picked up the butterfly's
controller, locked eyes with Kadence, and advanced the dial one
more click. "Get busy, Kadence, darling, and you still may
Kadence whined through her ring-gag and continued
shivering. The incremental increase in the butterfly's
level of stimulation had been noticeable, but (thankfully)
small; however, she knew that if Eunice advanced the dial one or
possibly two more clicks, she'd have no choice but to be
"disobedient." Kadence started squirming and inching
towards her goal, Eunice Ingleby's flushed and glistening pussy.