by Van © 2004
		Chapter 4

Princess Kellan squirmed in her bonds and sighed through her gag.  As before, immediately after the blue flash the bolts and lock securing the trunk lid had disengaged.  She knew that time did indeed stand still inside the Sorceress' magic trunk, and wondered how much of the world had passed her by in the last instant.  The lid opened... and this time it was day.  Kellan squinted and blinked in the unexpected light.  Her captor was smiling down at her, still dressed in the same boots, leather pants, laced jerkin, and wrist bracers, with various sheathed blades and sword; however, her short sleeve green shirt was missing.  Kellan blushed.  The sword maiden's arms, shoulders, and neck were toned and well-muscled, yet unmistakably female.  Her skin was pale and smooth, with a sprinkling of freckles on her shoulders and between her breasts, where the firm globes bulged against the gleaming brown leather of the tight jerkin.

Kellan had grown up in the bustling, crowded, amiable riot that was her father's castle; so the human body was no mystery to the young damsel.  Female and male, in sickness and health, young and old and in between, Kellan had seen it all... or so she thought.  Her captor was something new.  She was definitely a she... Kellan could easily imagine Duana filling out a proper gown... but the female sell sword was at home in her scandalously male costume.  It was wicked (and a little exciting).  It made Kellan feel somehow naughty as she looked at her captor's lithe, athletic form.

"Good morning, Princess," Duana greeted her captive, then lifted the bound and gagged redhead to her bare feet.

Kellan looked around.  It was a different campsite, and it did indeed appear to be morning.  They were screened by a grove of dense pines on all sides, and were near the bank of a wide, slow-moving stream.  The air was still and hot.  The mystery of Duana's missing shirt was solved.  The forest green, coarsely woven garment was draped across the lower boughs of a tall sapling.  Nearby was the serving girl's skirt, blouse, and bodice.  Apparently, all had been freshly laundered and were drying in the dappled sunlight.

There were Maid Dallas' clothes, but where was the captive serving girl herself?  Still standing in the trunk, Kellan shuffled on her bound, bare feet and turned, continuing her survey of the camp... and that mystery was solved as well.  The blonde was lying on her stomach atop Kellan's spread cloak, wrists crossed behind her back, knees bent, and heels nearly touching her fingers.  She was nude, save the hemp bonds encircling her wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles.  An additional rope stretched from her wrists, through her ankle bonds, and encircled her throat.  The poor girl was gagged with a pair of rags, one stuffed in her mouth and the other folded and tied between her teeth.  She gazed at Kellan with sad, tired eyes, as helpless as a suckling pig awaiting slaughter.

Duana lifted Kellan from the trunk, carried her to a patch of grass near the stream, sat her on her rump, and locked a steel collar around her throat.  Kellan's eyes followed the collar's long, thin, attached chain and found its far end wrapped around the trunk of a nearby sapling and secured with a small padlock.  Meanwhile, Duana was busy untying the ropes binding Kellan's arms to her sides and her legs together.  She was still gagged, a cloth stuffed in her mouth and a long, thin bandage swaddling her face from nose to chin; and her gloved wrists remained bound behind her back with thin cord.  A hank of hemp tightened around her ankles, and Kellan watched dully as she was hobbled, her captor giving her less than a foot of slack between her pale, bare feet.  She then felt Duana's strong fingers tugging at the laces of her gown's bodice.

"Here's what's going to happen," the sword maiden explained as she turned her attention to the buttons securing the gown's main closure.  "I'm going to untie your wrists.  You will not attempt to remove your hobble, collar, or gag.  You will remove your gloves, gown, chemise, and anything else you're wearing."

Kellan's head whipped around, fanning her red curls.  She glared at her captor, twisted her bound wrists, and jerked her shoulder from Duana's grip.

Duana laughed, took a handful of Kellan's hair in her right hand, and leaned close to whisper in her prisoner's left ear.  "Oh, you'll do it, Princess.  If you make me strip you myself, I'll cut a switch and lash the Royal Backside 'til it's cherry red.  Understand?"  Kellan continued glaring at her captor, fire in her eyes.  Duana released her hair and began untying her wrists.  "What's the matter, Your Highness.  Afraid a gang of passing ruffians will have their way with you?"  She laughed and patted Kellan's angry head.  "Don't worry.  I'll protect you."

Kellan rubbed her newly freed wrists, but made no move to shrug out of her half-opened, loosely hanging gown.

"Get to it!" Duana ordered, a smug smile on her gloating face.  "We've been two weeks on the trail and Maid Dallas is near spent.  She's been hauling my pack by day, and sleeping bound and gagged at night.  And all this on scant rations and far from home.  I think a little rest for our little tavern wench is in order, don't you agree?"

Kellan locked eyes with the naked serving girl.  Now that she took the time to notice, her fellow captive was a pitiful sight.  She was exhausted, evident even as she lay in her bonds.   Poor child.

"We only have a week to go, but it's all uphill," Duana continued.  "I'm afraid my current pack pony won't be able to keep pace  You'll wear the girl's rags.  Your gown is valuable, worth nearly as much as a bond servant, so I can't have it damaged on the trail."  She took several steps back and sat on a fallen log, smiling at the disheveled redhead.  "So, time for a change.  You become Kellan the serving girl and Maid Dallas becomes Princess Dallas.  You carry my kit the rest of the way, and Dallas gets to 'rest' in the Sorceress' trunk."

Kellan glared at her captor, then turned her head in disdain.  Her gown half fell from her shoulder, and she hurriedly pulled it back in place.

Duana laughed again.  "Come, Princess; you're neither spoiled nor stupid.  Your choice remains: do as I say and strip, or I punish you as you've never before punished before.  The result will be the same.  You will wear Maid Dallas' clothing and you will be my pack pony.  So tell me, Princess; do you enjoy pain?"

There was a pause of several seconds... then Kellan sighed and began removing her gloves.  Her pride told her to fight, to see exactly how far her captor would go; but her mind told her to marshal her strength, with an eye towards escape.  She removed the gown next, and finally the chemise.

"Bundle everything, Princess," Duana ordered, "and don't get it dirty."  Kellan complied, folding the green velvet gown and placing it atop the ivory linen chemise.  She tossed the rust leather gloves on the pile, then mewed through her gag as Duana grabbed her wrists and crossed and bound them behind her back with the same thin cord.  "Good girl," Duana purred as she dropped hemp coils over Kellan's head and tightened them above and below her pale breasts, hitched the bindings through her armpits, across her shoulders, and behind her neck, then cinched the bands between her arms and torso.  She looped rope around Kellan's bound wrists and the lower ropes and tugged, locking her elbows; then gave the redhead a shove and she fell on her side.

Nude and helpless, Kellan lay in her bonds and stared up at her captor, a blush coloring her cheeks where they bulged above her gag.

Duana gazed down at her captive's pale, smooth, helpless body, an appreciative smile on her face.  "Just a hint of baby fat; muscles that have seen at least some use; clear, unblemished skin; graceful form; fiery hair above and below, therefore our princess is a redhead without benefit of henna; yes... you'd fetch a fine price at the bond market, especially in heathen Africa.  But then, you're already bought and sold."

Kellan watched as Duana picked up her gloves, gown, and chemise and dropped them in the Sorceress' trunk.  'Muscles that have seen at least some use,' she fumed.  I do my share to make my father's keep function, and you're not the only one who knows the hilt of a sword from its point, Sword Maiden.  Meanwhile, Duana had untied the rope from Dallas' throat and released the hog-tie.  Kellan sighed through her gag.  Poor Maid Dallas.  Duana lifted the nude, bound, gagged and exhausted serving girl and placed her in the trunk atop Kellan's clothing.  Dallas gave Kellan a despairing glance and whined through her gag as this was accomplished.  The lid was closed, the lock turned, and the key tapped on the lid three times.  There was the usual blue flash, and the trunk shrank before Kellan's eyes.

Duana picked up the magically diminished trunk and placed it in her knapsack... then turned to Kellan and smiled.  "I'm afraid my tunic and your new costume won't be dry for a while... so let's just sit here and enjoy the rest of the morning, shall we?"

The Princess squirmed in her bonds on the soft grass, and averted her eyes.   I don't like they way she looks at me, Kellan decided.

Kelly had risen at dawn, showered, and made herself a light breakfast.  It was now midmorning, and she had filled the time unloading her dozen or so boxes of books and arranging them on the cottage's built-in shelves.  Step one was to just get them out of the boxes, step two was to rearrange them in some semblance of order, and step three would be to deploy her knickknacks and mementos as spacers.  She had just finished alphabetizing the bulk of her fiction collection when she heard an approaching engine.  She went to the window and found a dark red Ford pickup backing towards the front door.  "Behr Woodshop" was emblazoned on its door and Dawn was at the wheel.  Something bulky was in the back, covered by a brown plastic tarp and lashed down with nylon rope.

Kelly blushed slightly, remembering the previous night's nonsense: playing with herself, fantasizing that Dawn Behr was keeping her prisoner in one of her medieval devices, and the strong, beautiful blonde was toying with her... like she was a pet.

"Hey there!" Dawn called as she bounded from the truck's cab and began untying the tarp.  "Sleep well your first night?"

"Hi!" Kelly answered (still blushing).  "Yes, thank you."  Both were dressed in faded jeans, but Kelly was in sneakers and a shawl sweater over a French-cut T-shirt; while Dawn was in work boots,  tank-top, and a light jacket.

"The bed," Dawn announced, throwing back the tarp.  "Help me get it inside and I'll do the assembly.  It's a little complicated and there are a lot of fasteners, but I brought a power driver."

The bed was in several parts and it took several trips.  It was dark oak, and by the time they had all of it in the bedroom Kelly could tell it was a four-poster canopy design.  She held the larger pieces as Dawn made several key connections, and her impression was confirmed.  The queen-size platform had four tall posts braced at the top by steel bars and a cross-frame that rose to a peak.

"I can handle it from here," Dawn announced.  "Coffee?"

"I'll make a fresh pot," Kelly responded, and went into the kitchen.  She ground some beans and set up her drip machine.  The sound of Dawn's power driver continued whirring from the bedroom.  The pot slowly filled and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air.  She headed back into the bedroom carrying a tray cluttered with insulated carafe, cream, sugar, saucers, and cups.

Dawn was packing her driver back in its small plastic case.  "Help me with the mattress and it's all over but the sheets and pillows."  Kelly set down her tray and together they manhandled Kelly's mattress onto the bed.  "There was a canopy cover, curtains, and a skirt; but Dorey cannibalized them to make pillows, cushions, and trim pieces for Debbie's new bedroom set."

"Sort of a continuity thing?" Kelly suggested.

Dawn nodded.  "Choose a fabric and Dorey can make a new set for you in no time."

"There's no rush," Kelly said.  "I may just go with something light and airy for the curtains, like maybe organza sheers... in a lichen green maybe.  No rush."  She reached down and lifted a surprisingly heavy iron ring set in the nearest post.  It was about four inches in diameter and was mounted on a narrow collar that completely encircled the post and spun freely.  The entire assembly was just above the surface of the mattress, and now that she noticed, there were three more, one on each post.

"Tie backs for the curtains," Dawn explained, then indicated a curious hook near the top of one of the headboard posts.  It was roughly the size and shape of a coat hook and ended in a small ring.  "Deb designed this herself, when she was fifteen.  I had to rabbet out a channel in the back of the post for the mechanism, then fit a flush cover.  Anyway, see the slot above the tie back ring?"  Kelly leaned close.  The slot was roughly midway between the hook and tie back.  Dawn reached up and pulled down on the hook.  Two curved steel wedges emerged from the slot and slid past one another to form a small eyebolt.  "There's a decorative counterweight that goes on the end of the hook," Kelly explained, pointing upwards, "to keep the scissor-clamp closed, and a vertical sash that snaps to the base of the hook mount.  Anyway... it's an automatic release for the bed curtain.  The tie back sash passes through the collar ring on the post, then a small ring in the end is captured by the scissor-clamp.  The counterweight holds it closed, and if you want it to release you tug on the vertical sash, the concealed lever arm inside the post defeats the counterweight, the clamp opens, and the bed curtain falls closed."

Kelly smiled.  "Clever girl."

Dawn smiled back.  "Of course it's only one drape.  I helped her rig it as a prototype, but even the Brat could see doing all four posts and somehow linking it all together was hopeless.  We all go through our 'Rube Goldberg' stage of design; then learn that less is more."

"Like simply tying a quick release knot in the sash?" Kelly suggested.

"Exactly!" Dawn laughed.  "Still..."

"Clever girl," Kelly repeated.  "How 'bout that coffee?"

Kellan stumbled to a halt in response to a whispered command from her captor.  She was wearing her own boots; Dallas' skirt, blouse, and bodice; and Duana's knapsack.  The skirt was a little tight around her waist and was badly in need of mending.  One deep rip on the left side exposed her leg as she walked, nearly to mid thigh.  The blouse was hanging loosely off her shoulders, causing her to show a great deal more cleavage than her mother and her courtiers would have thought proper.  This was accentuated by the snugness of the tightly laced bodice.  Her shoulders and the tops of her breasts were pink with sunburn, and the straps of the knapsack were rubbing her shoulders raw.  Her long red curls were a tousled riot, half-obscuring her sweating face.

Duana's iron collar and chain was locked around Kellan's neck.  Her wrists were bound together in front with thin cord and pinned to her waist with a length of hemp.  Her cloth bandage-gag was unchanged.  Duana tossed the end of the collar chain over a stout branch and pulled in the slack until Kellan was dancing on her booted toes.  Her wrists were untied, Duana's pack removed, and her wrists crossed and tied behind her back.  Her gag was untied, a skin of tepid water was held to her parched lips, and the miserable captive drank.  Before she could croak her thanks (or complain about her treatment) her gag was restored, her ankles lashed together, and the collar chain loosened an inch or two to let her stand flat-footed.

Kellan stood in her bonds and watched Duana make a rough camp, gather an armload of firewood, and begin cooking a simple meal.  Later, as the sun set, she was ungagged and fed.  It was flatbread and some sort of meat, but she was so tired she simply chewed and swallowed.

Meal over, Kellan's gag was restored.  Duana cleaned the camp and banked the fire, then released Kellan's chain and carried her to the camp bed of freshly cut pine boughs, blanket, and cloak.  She used hemp to bind the Princess' arms to her sides with her usual skill, then tethered her collar to one tree and her ankles to another.  Kellan could sleep comfortably, as comfortably as her bonds and gag would allow, but knew herself to be utterly helpless.

"I'm going to scout the land a little, and look for some herbs," Duana whispered in Kellan's ear... and was gone.  The exhausted captive fell instantly asleep.

She awoke later, still miserable and exhausted.  It was now full night, with countless stars wheeling overhead.  Duana had returned and was sharing the bed, her leather-clad body close against Kellan's side.  Duana's right hand caressed her left shoulder, and she felt something cool and wet being massaged into her mildly sunburned skin.  It smelled of forest flowers and animal fat

"This will ease your burn," Duana whispered.  "I can't have my pack pony chafing under her load, now can I?"

The massage continued.  The ointment made her skin tingle... and it felt good... as did her captor's strong yet gentle hands sliding over her shoulders... neck... upper back... breasts.  It felt good!  Kellan sighed through her gag, rested her head against Duana's shoulder... and slept.

That night Kelly lay on her back in her new bed, Debbie's old bed, nude, snuggled under the covers, and propped against a nest of carefully arranged pillows.  She was reading a novel by Charles de Lint, one of her favorite authors.  The chapter ended and she set the book on her night stand, next to a rather curious piece of brass hardware she had discovered earlier in the day.  She picked up the "U" shaped device and examined it closely.  After Dawn had left Kelly had discovered a crumpled brown paper bag on her bedroom floor near one of the bed posts.  It had obviously been left by Dawn.  She looked inside and discovered a large quantity of iron rings, all strung together on a piece of ratty cord.  Examination revealed that they were curtain rings, each a small ring attached to an even smaller ring by a spot weld.  They were for the bed, of course, and fit the horizontal rails of the canopy frame.

The "U" device had been in the bottom of the bag.  It took a while, but eventually Kelly realized it was a friction clamp.  It had spring-loaded jaws with dull teeth, a release lever on its side, and a swivel-mounted ring at the outside bend of the "U."  A length of rope could pass through the clamp, but only one way.  It would be gripped by the jaws if pulled in the other direction.  But what did it have to do with the bed?  Was it in the bag by mistake?

Something had been nagging at the back of Kelly's mind since Dawn had left.  Debbie's curtain closing mechanism simply didn't make sense.  Complicated—yes.  Overly complicated—yes.  But the whole deal with the counterweight and opposing lever... Why not just use a spring-loaded clamp?  Debbie was a bright girl.  Why the over-engineering?

Kelly lay in the bed, fumbling with the clamp.  She glanced up at the lever of the curtain release; then down to the collars and rings that encircled each bedpost, just at the level of the top of the mattress; then at the slot in the post with the lever, where the scissor-clamp would emerge if a weight was placed on the lever arm above.  Kelly frowned.  In the light from her reading lamp she could see a set of dings and scratches in the wood of the post, just below the slot.  She climbed out from under the covers and examined the slight damage to the darkly stained oak, the friction clamp still in her hand.  She held up the clamp and found  the dimples in the wood matched the flare in the brass on the "in" side of the clamp.  If the friction clamp's ring was locked in the slot's scissor-clamp and was dangling down, and rope was being pulled through the clamp and the ring below, it would tap against the post, and...

Standing naked in the semi-darkness of her bedroom, friction clamp in hand... all became clear.  The bed is a self-bondage machine!