|TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B
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Three Months Later...)
Rescuing the Princess
The Princess was spreadeagled on
her back and bound to the rack, her wrists and ankles buckled in
wide, thick leather cuffs. She'd been stripped of her
tattered gown. In fact, other than her bonds, she was
completely naked. Her freckled, peachy-pink skin was
soiled and slick with sweat and her copper-red hair lay on the
hard wood as a tousled mass of unruly curls. Because of
the stringent stretch, her muscles were clearly defined and her
breasts were as flat as their volume would allow. Despite
months of cruel captivity, the Royal spirit was not broken;
however, the rag stuffed in her mouth and held in place by a
tight cleave-gag stiffled any brave comments the Princess might
have wished to share.
The Tyrant—who was also a
Princess—was supervising the "entertainment". She was
wearing a full-length gown of gleaming brown leather. It
had a tight-laced bodice and a high collar, as well as long
sleeves that incorporated stiff bracers studded with
brass. The Tyrant's long hair (also copper-red)
was in a French braid. It trailed down her back, nearly to
her wasp-thin waist. A light, golden crown with numerous
sharp tines graced her brow. A stiletto dagger was
sheathed on the belt slung around her hips, as well as a
custom-made holster with an array of finely-crafted instruments
of torture. Her cruel, beautiful face smiled down at her
victim—who was also her cousin. "Tighter," she
purred. "Stretch her tighter."
Following her mistress' order, a cruel smile on her tan,
beautiful face, the female Saxon Warrior at the head of the rack
pulled the fine adjustment lever. The mechanism turned—Click-click-click!—taking
up additional links of chain. The Saxon was wearing
leather boot-sandals, kilt, and a bra-top with brass cups.
Her long, blond hair was parted down the middle and loosely
braided, in the manner of her people. Her preferred
weapon, a battle-ax, was leaning against the wall beside the
torture chamber door.
"That's enough," the Tyrant said. "We'll let her get used
to that setting ... then tighten it just a little more." She reached out
her right hand and the thrall kneeling at her side held up a
goblet of wine.
The thrall was a Wood Elf, and she was tiny, even for her
race. The tips of her pointed ears peeked through strands
of her short, straight, dark-brown hair. A ragged shift of
burlap was her only clothing, and her wrists were locked in
heavy manacles joined by a foot of chain.
The Tyrant-Princess sipped from the goblet, handed it back to
the thrall, that pulled a tool from her holster. The
wand-like instrument's business end was shaped like the paw of a
cat, with gleaming, needle-sharp claws. "Now," she purred,
"let's test the sensitivity of my Royal cousin's nipples, shall
we?" She stepped to the rack, extended her hand and the
dreadful instrument it held, and—
Suddenly, the chamber door flew open, revealing two figures.
The first was a Desert Nomad. The tip of the thin-bladed
scimitar in her right hand was pointed at the
Tyrant-Princess. Her feet were clad in desert boots with
upturned toes. Her legs were partially covered by
skin-tight leather pants that laced up the outside flanks,
providing provocative glimpses of the darkly tanned skin of her
outer thighs and hips. From the waist up, her only
coverings were a brassiere with chain-mail straps and hammered
steel cups . Leather bracers protected her wrists.
Her raven-black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and a
saucy smile curled her lips.
At her side was a Wood Elf. She wasn't as tiny at the
thrall still kneeling at the Tyrant's feet, but was shorter than the
Nomad. Her costume was the soft boots, kilt, and skimpy
top typical of her kind, in leather and cloth dyed in several
different forest colors. She was armed with a pair of
short swords, still sheathed on her thighs, but also had a pair
of small cross-bows with pistol-grips, one in each hand.
They were aimed at the Tyrant and her Saxon retainer.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" the Tyrant-Princess
"Isn't it rather obvious?" the Desert Nomad chuckled. She
stepped forward and lifted the Tyrant's chin with the tip of her
blade. "Move and you die. You, Saxon, release the
Her hands raised, the Saxon glared at the Nomad. "You
won't get out of this Keep alive," she growled
"I rather think we will," the Nomad answered. "Now, do as
you're told, barbarian."
The Saxon released the tension of the rack, then unbuckled the
naked captive's wrist and ankle cuffs.
The Princess sat up, untied her gag, and spat out the
stuffing. "Finally," she gasped. "My mother the
Queen sent you?"
"Something like that," the Desert Nomad chuckled, then nodded at
the ragged gown on the floor. "Get dressed, Your
The Princess climbed off the rack and donned her gown and
slippers. It might once have been an elegant garment, but
months of wear while being forced to perform demeaning labor had
reduced it to soiled tatters. Her slippers were in
slightly better condition, but were scuffed and dirty. The
Princess had no underwear, not even a loincloth.
The Nomad pulled a leather thong from her belt and tossed it to
the kneeling elf. "Bind the Saxon's wrists behind her
back," she ordered, and the tiny thrall hurried to obey.
"Stay out of my line-of-sight," the Nomad's Wood Elf companion
cautioned her fellow elf.
"And what should we do with you, my pretty little Tyrant?" the
"Strip her and put her on the rack," the Princess growled.
"Let's see how she likes
The Nomad shook her head. "No time." She focused on
the Tyrant and gestured towards the wall opposite the
door. "Over there."
Her hands raised, the Tyrant walked to the wall, turned to face
the others, and glared. "I will personally torture you to
death for this outrage. What? How dare you!"
The Nomad had sheathed her scimitar, pulled the dagger from the
Tyrant's belt and clamped it between her teeth, and locked the
Tyrant's right wrist in a dangling manacle, all in one fluid
"Release me!" the Tyrant demanded. "Now!"
The Nomad had seized the Tyrant's left wrist, pulled it to the
side, and clamped it in a second manacle. She turned and
smiled at the elven thrall. "Come here, little one."
The thrall had finished binding the Saxon's wrists and scampered
to the Nomad's side.
The Nomad pulled a keyring from the Tyrant's belt and unlocked
the thrall's fetters and collar. The iron clattered to the
floor and the tiny elf smiled up at her rescuer, her brown eyes
shining. "Secure her ankles," the Nomad said, nodding at
The elf knelt, grabbed the Tyrant's right ankle, pulled it to
the side, and clamped it in a wall-mounted shackle. She
then shuffled to the left and did the same to her left ankle.
The Tyrant glared down at the elf. "Your death will take days," she growled.
"You will beg me to end your suffering."
The Nomad had retrieved the Princess' gag from the rack and was
returning to the wall.
"What are you going to do?" the Tyrant demanded.
The Nomad had stuffed the rag in the Tyrant's mouth and was
knotting the cleave-gag at the nape of her neck. "That's
enough of your bluster,"
Her blue-green eyes furious above her flushed, freckled cheeks,
the Tyrant growled through her gag and glared at the
The Nomad removed the Tyrant's belt, then pulled the dagger's
sheath free, sheathed the blade, and tucked it in her own
belt. "We'll bind the Saxon a little better, then off we
"Wait," the Princess said, and pointed at the glowering
blonde. "She's their best tracker. We should take
her with us."
"I detest unnecessary bother," the Nomad purred, pulled a coil
of hemp rope from a peg set in the wall, and tossed it to the
Princess. "If you want to take her, bind her."
"You're going to regret this," The Saxon warned.
"Shut your uncultured mouth, pig farmer," the Princess huffed,
and began pulling loops of hemp around the Saxon's arms and
torso. In short order, the blonde was in a tight,
well-cinched box-tie, with her already bound wrists pulled up
and lashed to the other bonds, almost in a reverse prayer.
"Gag her," the Nomad ordered.
A smile curling her coral lips, the Princess reached up under
the Saxon's kilt and pulled her loincloth free.
"I told her you
should be put to death," the Saxon growled, her blue eyes locked
with the Princess' blue-green orbs.
The Princess tied a knot in the middle of the loincloth, then
thrust it in the Saxon's mouth. She cinched it tight at
the nape of the blonde's neck and tied a square-knot.
The Nomad had pulled a second coil of hemp from a peg and tied a
hangman's knot in the end. She dropped the noose over the
Saxon's head, cinched it tight (but not too tight), then handed
the remaining rope to the Princess. "Okay, you've got her;
but she's your responsibility."
"Remember who you're talking to, Nomad," the Princess huffed.
The Nomad smiled and executed a deep, graceful bow. "My
apologies, Your Highness. Now, let's go."
With the Wood Elf warrior leading the way, they made their
exit. The Princess was next, with her Saxon hostage in
The Nomad smiled at the elf thrall. "Are you coming?" she
The tiny elf smiled back. "You're rescuing me, too?"
The Nomad chuckled, lifted the thrall's chin and kissed her
lips. "What's your name, little elf?" she purred.
"Chloe," the thrall answered. "Chloe, daughter of Sheera
of the Five Trees clan."
"I am Pilar," the Nomad answered, "of the Wind Dancers."
She kissed Chloe, again. "And, yes, I am rescuing you,
Chloe sighed, and scampered out the door.
Pilar favored the Tyrant-Princess with a mocking bow, then
pulled the door closed.
The Tyrant heard the key turn in the lock... then silence.
"Nrrrrrf!" she screamed through her gag, and tugged on her
chains. Her limbs splayed against the wall and locked in
cold iron, she was totally helpless.
A minute passed... then two.
The key rattled in the door, again, the portal opened, and
Scholar Constance entered the torture chamber. "Well, that
went well, don't you think?"
Alice sighed through her gag, then nodded.
Connie stepped forward and smiled at the "Tyrant-Princess",
taking in her spreadeagled, helpless condition. "I really
like your new leather bitch-princess gown," she sighed.
"Jillie-bean and Sydney have done the Evil Baroness
swashbuckling-in-leather-tights thing to death. This is
"Mrrf?" Alice "asked", opening her fettered hands.
Clearly, she would appreciate being released.
"Okay, okay," Connie chuckled, and turned to the rack. She
moved the Tyrant's belt to the side, then spun on her heels to
face Alice. "Oh, this is terrible," she sighed.
"Pilar forgot to leave the keyring."
"M'mmpfh!" Alice complained, tugging on her chains.
"I'm serious," Connie said, returning to Alice, "I'm going to
have to go find a spare key, and that could take a very long time."
Alice glared at the
smiling brunette. Her assertion was pretty much a
bald-faced lie. The locks of almost every restraint in the
Keep were one-key-fits-all. With few exceptions, the first
small key Connie found would fit Alice's shackles. The
Scholar was being cute, the
little bitch! "Mrrrf!"
"Don't take that tone with me,
Princess," Connie giggled. She knelt and began unbuttoning
the front of Alice's gown, working her way up the skirt to the
tightly laced bodice. She then leaned close, reached
between the gaping leather, and caressed Alice's crotch.
Alice was still glaring, but an involuntary shudder shook her
diminutive frame. "N'mmf!"
Connie reached in with both hands, pulled Alice's loincloth
free, and tossed it away. She leaned close, her left arm
around the chained prisoner's waist, her right hand stroking her
pussy, and her lips nuzzling her neck. "You're wet," she
whispered. "Watching Hannah stretch poor, pathetic
Princess Sydney got you all hot and bothered. I can tell."
"Quiet," Connie purred. "You and Cricket messed with me
last weekend, when Lady Carleton was here, so now it's my
turn. Fair is fair."
Alice shivered in her bonds, moaned through her gag, and tried
to ignore Connie's gliding hand.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: AMoM
their hostage exited the Keep by a side door and sprinted into
the woods, taking a little used path that led up the slopes of
Mount Foxwood. Pilar and the Wood Elf, Cricket, retrieved
the cloaks and satchels they'd stashed beside the trail, and the
escape continued. Pilar's cloak was dun-brown, typical of
a Desert Nomad. Cricket's was comprised of leaf-shaped,
overlapping panels, in a dozen forest colors.
They continued up the trail, along the slope of the mountain
(hill, actually, but "Mount Foxwood" sounded better), then down
into the valley. Cricket was in the lead, followed by
Princess Sydney and her Saxon captive. They, in turn, were
followed by Chloe the rescued Wood Elf thrall. Pilar acted
as the party's rearguard. Surprisingly (unless you'd read
Connie's scenario) there was no pursuit from Foxwood Keep.
Cricket slowed to a normal walking pace and the hike continued.
Eventually, they reached the valley floor and crossed a small
stream. The trail joined another, then continued to drop,
winding around trees and boulders and taking them ever further
from the Keep. After a good couple of miles, the forest
ahead thickened into a dense grove of mature cedars. The
light faded as the gray trunks closed in around them. The
forest floor was a carpet of fallen needles that seemed to
deaden all sound.
Suddenly a Wood Elf stepped onto the trail. She was taller
than either of the elves in the party. Her cloak was
similar to Cricket's. She was armed with an elven bow and
had an arrow notched, but the leaf-shaped arrowhead was pointed
away from the fugitives. (It was Cody Archer in elf
disguise. She was well known to Pilar, of course, but was
a complete stranger to Chloe.)
"Greetings, Fair Elf," Pilar smiled.
"You were successful, I see," Cody said. Her eyes were on
Chloe as she returned the arrow to her quiver, threw back her
cloak, then slung her bow over her shoulder. "Why did you
bring the Saxon?" she asked.
"The Princess wanted her," Pilar explained. "I have no
idea why. Perhaps she wants revenge."
"No matter," Cody shrugged. She pulled a small pouch from
her belt and gave it a shake. Clink, clink. "The agreed upon fee," she
intoned, then tossed it to Pilar.
Pilar caught the pouch and tucked it in her belt with one
"The Wood Elves funded my rescue?" Sydney demanded.
"Not exactly," Pilar chuckled, then pulled a thong from her belt
pouch, grabbed Princess Sydney's wrists, and pulled them behind
"What are you doing?" Sydney demanded.
"Bundling cargo," Pilar purred as she bound Sydney's
wrists. "You don't think I risked the dangers of Foxwood
Keep just to rescue a snooty Princess, do you?"
"How dare you!" Sydney huffed.
Pilar had pulled a coil of hemp rope from her satchel and was
binding the Princess in a tight box-tie. Strand by strand
it was a match for the web of rope binding Hannah.
"Do we have to listen to her incessant whining?" Cricket
giggled, pulling a folded cloth from her belt.
"Be my guest," Pilar laughed. She held Sydney's hair atop
her head as Cricket tied a knot in the center of the cloth and
"No—R'rrrf!" Sydney stamped her feet and grimaced as
Cricket thrust the knot in her mouth and tied a tight
Cricket lifted the hemp leash still noosing Hannah's throat,
found the middle, and tied a loop around Princess Sydney's
neck. She then knotted the free end of the rope to a
Meanwhile, Pilar was smiling at Chloe. "It was your clan
that paid me to invade Lady Foxwood's domain," she explained.
Chloe blinked her eyes in surprise. "Me? You came to
"That's right," Pilar nodded.
Just then, Cody pulled a generous coil of silver-gray rope from
her shoulder, shook it out, and pulled Chloe's hands behind her
"Wh-what are you doing?" Chloe demanded.
"Your aura has been contaminated by your enslavement," Cody
explained as she bound the tiny elf's wrists, then used the rest
of the rope to pin her arms to her sides and lash her legs
together. "You should know that." She finished by
binding Chloe's ankles, then reached under the little elf's
tattered thrall-shift and pulled her loincloth free. "The
Green Witch of the Wood has agreed to conduct a purification
ritual," she said as she tied a knot in the narrowly folded
"Purification ritual?" Pilar inquired with a grin.
"It will require ritual bathing, special body oils, and at least
a dozen orgasms," Cricket explained, "with the smoke of a sacred
fire to carry away the impurities. Princess Chloe is in
for a very long
night... or two."
"We could not tell you that she is an Elven Princess," Cody said
as she cinched and knotted Chloe's gag.
"I would have charged more?" Pilar chuckled.
"You might have divulged Her Highness' identity under torture,"
Cricket explained, "had the rescue failed."
"Or, I might have decided to sell her at the slave market,"
Pilar chuckled, and nodded at Sydney and Hannah, "like those
Cricket winked at Cody. "Desert Nomads have quite a sense
of humor. Imagine, thinking she could drag an Elven
Princess through the Green Wood with impunity."
Cody hefted Chloe onto her shoulder in a fireman's carry.
"Enough of this nonsense," she huffed, and carried her helpless
burden away, into the trees.
"You sure you can handle those two?" Cricket asked, smiling at
"No problem," Pilar answered as she turned and untied the end of
the hemp leash. "Are you
She turned back, and shrugged. Cricket was already
gone. "Oh well." She walked to Sydney, lifted her
chin, and kissed her gagged lips. "I didn't expect you to
ask me to bring along your blond girlfriend," she purred.
"That was a surprise."
Sydney shrugged her rope-bound shoulders.
"Well, I've got a surprise for you, too." She smiled at
Hannah. "For both of you." She resumed the
hike. The rope snapped taut and her coffle of two stumbled
after her. "I know you're expecting us to return to the
Keep. Instead, we're headed for the campsite across the
valley, the one next to the waterfall. It's getting late,
so I'll have to set a good pace."
Sydney and Hannah exchanged a confused look. The campsite
in question was something like six or seven miles distant.
"Once there, we should find Ashley waiting for us, with camp
already pitched and a pot of stew on the fire," Pilar
continued. "After a nice, restful night—with
Ashley-the-Amazon and Pilar-the-Nomad-Warrior testing the slave
merchandise, of course—we'll continue on to where Ashley has
parked her SUV. You two will ride in the back, suitably
bound, gagged, and bagged, of course, and we'll all spend the next week at
Sydney sent a complaining "M'rrf!" through her gag and planted
The leash snapped taut and Pilar turned and stepped back to
plant a kiss on Sydney's bulging cheek. "Silly Princess,"
the Desert Nomad chuckled, "you act like you have a
choice. If it makes you feel any better, your abduction
has been authorized by your big sister." She focused on
Hannah. "She didn't know she would also be losing her Saxon
for a week, in addition to her Princess-Thrall, but I'm sure
she'll make do." A gloating grin on her beautiful face,
she locked eyes with Sydney. "Don't make me cut a switch
from that bush over there. I'd hate to have to mark those
pretty, freckled legs. Now, enough." She let the
rope trail through her fingers 'til she reached the end, then
turned and stepped off.
The rope snapped taut, again, and the march resumed.
Sydney looked back over her shoulder at Hannah, and found the
Saxon smiling at her over her gag. Could be worse, Sydney
thought. I might have decided
not to ask Pillie to bring
Hannah along on this little trek. Actually, the
surprise was a good thing. Truth be told, being Bottom to
Hannah's Top since the "Silverberry Affair" hadn't exactly been
a burden, nor was being the "Princess-Thrall" in Connie's
scenarios an onerous chore, but a little change would be
fun—especially if part of it included getting to watch Hannah
"suffer" in Ashley's secret dungeon playroom.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: AMoM
(An Additional Three
feeling very... spiffy. Her hair was parted down the
middle and plaited in its customary Saxon Braids; however,
instead of leather thongs whipping the ends, the braids were
secured by little sleeves of brown leather crisscrossed by thin
laces. She was wearing polished, knee-length, brown riding
boots, blue-gray jodhpurs with sky-blue stripes along the outer
seams, and a matching blue-gray, double-breasted blouse-tunic
with a double row of brass buttons, each embossed with a
stylized crown. The blouse's top flap was folded back,
revealing a flash of sky-blue lining and a reasonably generous
display of cleavage. Epaulets on her shoulders bore a
combination of thick and thin gold stripes denoting her rank,
which was... Hannah couldn't remember. It was
unimportant. Finally, a pair of gold wings bearing a small
gear surmounted by a crown was pinned above her left breast.
Yes, Hannah was an Engineering Officer in the Luftflotta of the Ice
Queen, ruler of Scandinavia and a generous chunk of Baltic
Germany. The Ice Kingdom was renowned for its deadly,
mechanized arctic troops, formidable fleet of armored Zeppelins,
pickled herring and salmon roe delicacies, and world class
Bikini Team. Hannah was on leave from her airship,
enjoying the amenities of Silverberry Manor (and on a secret
espionage mission for Her Frozen Majesty's Intelligence Service,
On Hannah's right was Mistress Saunders and Lady Foxwood,
resplendent in elegant tea gowns of fawn and sage-green,
respectively. Their hair was piled atop their heads in
On Hannah's left was Lady Pilar de La Calva, visiting from
Havana, a major trading port of the Hispano-Mayan Union.
Her gown was a veritable froth of red and black lace
ruffles. It had a tight, corseted waist and a low cut that
displayed a great deal of smooth, brown cleavage. Her
long, raven-black curls fell down her nearly bare back, and a
whisper-thin black lace veil held in place by an elaborately
carved comb framed her beautiful face and draped her
shoulders. A fan fluttered in her right hand.
None of them were bound in any way. They weren't even
wearing chastity belts under their gowns (as far as Hannah
knew), nor was Hannah wearing a steel thong under her
jodhpurs. (That Hannah did
know.) This trip, Hannah, Pilar, and Jillian were
playing on the Top team. They were walking down a narrow
hallway towards a nondescript wooden door.
Caroline opened the door and motioned for the others to
enter. The room beyond was long, narrow, and dark.
Opposite the door was an expanse of glass, a window-wall looking
out on an old fashioned classroom. Caroline indicated the
row of comfortable easy chairs facing the glass, and the group
"They can't see us?" Jillian asked.
Caroline nodded. "Or hear us. Double-paned glass,
one-way on the far side. To the students, the wall is one
The students in question were Alice, Cricket, Sydney, and
Constance. All four were dressed in schoolgirl uniforms
similar to the one Hannah had endured at the tail end of her
first visit to the Manor; but without jackets, capes, or straw
boaters and with the addition of gray wool sweaters.
Alice's and Sydney's copper-red hair had been parted down the
middle and plaited in tight pigtails. The brunette Clarke
cousins' hair was too short for braids, but Connie's slightly
longer locks had been brushed back and a she was wearing a
striped headband with a pretty bow on top, in the school colors
of silver and olive. Instead of her usual Granny-glasses,
the Scholar was wearing "Harry Potter" glasses with large, round
lenses and black frames.
"They are so very tiny and cute," Pilar chuckled.
mused. Sydney was 5' 5", Alice was slightly shorter, and
the Clarke cousins were... what, 5' 3"? She'd never
thought of Syd as "tiny", but she did look cute as the
proverbial bug in her short, navy-blue skirt and gray sweater
over her blouse and school tie. Alice, Cricket, and Connie
she'd always thought of as short, but not Syd. Of course... now that I'm on Top
duty most of the time... Yeah, she is kinda tiny... in a
tallish sort of way.
All four "students" were sitting on old fashioned school
desks. Their hands were behind their backs and laced into
leather binders that encased their arms from fingertips to
armpits. The rings at the tips of their binders were
clipped to the back of their desks, their ankles were strapped
together and to the braces between the desks' front legs, and
leather seat-belts were buckled across their laps.
Finally, panel-gags of brown leather covered their mouths,
cupped their chins, and were buckled tight at the napes of their
Patricia stood in the front of the classroom. She was
wearing a wasp-waisted tea gown with a high collar. Her
hair was up, gold-framed glasses were perched on her nose, and
she was holding a long, thin, wooden pointer. Clearly, she
was the teacher.
Next to her stood Polly, but the maid was not wearing her usual
black and white uniform. In point of fact, she was
nude. Her brown hair was combed back and plaited in a
single braid that hung down her back, nearly to her pale,
dimpled butt. Her arms were raised and her hands atop her
head, with her fingers interlaced. A wide strip of medical
tape was stretched across her mouth, from ear to ear and nose to
chin. The shape of her lips was clearly visible under the
smooth, white panel.
"Art class?" Jillian asked.
"Shibari," Caroline answered. "You can't see it from here,
but there's a rack of hemp rope against this wall."
As they watched, Patricia pulled down a chart from above the
chalkboard. It was a Victorian-style illustration of a
naked female figure with arrows pointing to various parts of her
"Pressure points?" Jillian asked, and Caroline nodded.
Jillian smiled. "You realize, of course, that any one of
my girls could teach a
course on either bondage safety or Shibari."
"Are you suggesting there's no logical reason for 'your girls'
to be bound to their desks and forced to listen to Patricia's
lecture?" Caroline purred.
"You wouldn't want to spoil the fun, would you?" Pilar chuckled.
"You are all terrible," Hannah huffed.
"And I suppose you don't
want Miss Foxwood-Major brought to your room this evening for
'private instruction'?" Caroline chuckled.
Hannah blushed and ignored the question. Her eyes were on
Foxwood-Major', she thought. And Alice would be
Foxwood-Minor. That's cute.
"Oh, are you taking orders?" Pilar asked.
"Why not?" Caroline answered, smiling at her Hispano-Mayan
guest. "I'm sure any of our students would benefit from an
intercultural exchange. Which one strikes your fancy?"
Pilar smiled. "Hmm... all of them look delicious."
"All of them are delicious,"
muttered, "as you damn well know, from firsthand experience."
In the classroom, Patricia was tapping the diagram with her
pointer, then prodding the corresponding position on Polly's
"Point taken," Pilar purred. "Actually," she continued, "I
find the model intriguing."
"Polly?" Caroline asked. "My personal maid?"
"Polly," Pilar whispered, then smiled at Caroline. "Polly
is her name?"
Meanwhile, Patricia had set down her pointer, stepped to the
wall, and was returning with a large coil of conditioned hemp
rope. She shook out the coil, doubled it and found its
center, then formed a doubled loop. She then turned
Polly's back to the class, folded her arms behind her back, and
dropped the loop over her head and cinched it tight over her
arms. The students and the unseen audience behind the
glass watched as Patricia pulled doubled coils around Polly's
upper body, pulling the rope through each previous loop and
reversing direction with each pass.
"Box-tie," Hannah observed.
Caroline nodded. "Patricia will also include a Kikkou
harness, binding Polly from shoulders to toes. She'll then
plunk Polly on that stool off to the side, so the class can
observe the long-term effects of properly applied ropes."
"And when the lecture is over?" Pilar asked.
Caroline shrugged. "After class, I suppose someone will
let her go." She winked at Jillian. "Of course, I
suppose she could be
carried up to your bed, Señorita
de la Calva, where she would be waiting for you, whenever
you decide to retire."
"All those many long hours, so tightly bound," Pilar purred, her
eyes on Polly. "That would be very cruel. No doubt
Polly would be most grateful
to anyone who offered her sympathy."
"No doubt," Caroline agreed.
"I think these personnel orientation visits are an excellent
idea," Jillian said. "I can't wait until next month, when
Jaclyn visits Foxwood."
"I can't wait 'til she sees the Horse," Hannah huffed.
"Sees the Horse?" Jillian asked, "or rides the Horse?"
"Speaking of horses," Caroline chuckled, "have you decided who
will be making the reciprocal visit to Silverberry?"
"To 'evaluate' your ponygirl program?" Jillian
shrugged. "Not yet."
"Boss," Hannah said, smiling sweetly, "have I told you how beautiful you look today?"
They all laughed.
"Don't worry, Hannah-bear," Jillian said, giving her employee's
hand a reassuring pat. "You aren't even on the list, nor
is Sydney." She focused on the watching "students" on the
other side of the glass. "It will be either Alice,
Cricket, or Constance."
"Any of them would make a fine pony," Caroline stated. "Of
course, they're all a little short to pull a racing trap."
She smiled at Hannah. "You'd make an excellent racing pony,
"Don't hold your breath waiting for me to volunteer," Hannah
muttered, then glanced at Pilar. The Latin beauty was
gazing at Polly, smiling as Patricia's ropes tightened in an
ever more complex web. Pilar
is certainly tall enough and athletic enough to pull a trap,
or so she assumed.
"Alice, Cricket, or Constance," Jillian reiterated, gazing at
the students in question. "Decisions, decisions."
Hannah smiled, and returned to watching Patricia bind Polly—and watching Sydney watch
Patricia bind Polly. This
job just keeps getting better and better. First, Foxwood
to play in... then, Carleton Castle... and now, Silverberry
Manor. I wonder what comes next?
Tales of the
All Manor of Mischief