TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2011		_
		Chapter 2

Nefarious Goings On
~ or ~
WHAT THE HELL??
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Alarmed and confused couldn't begin to describe Hannah's feelings.

Strangers in leather catsuits showing up?  Their "Victorian Humvee" contraption was the mysterious "transportation" Sydney had talked about?  They were transporting/kidnapping her along with Jillian?  Sydney was going along with it?

And now they're capturing Sydney, too??  That can't possibly have been part of the plan... to have herself captured!!

Sydney was wrapped in the net from the net-gun, on the ground, and unconscious.  The woman with the gun had used chloroform—or something—to knock her out.  While this was happening, the other woman had tied the end of Hannah and Jillian's shared neck-tether to a pad-eye on the back bumper of their strange truck.  Hannah watched as their handler knelt, looped and tightened some sort of leather strap with a friction buckle around Jillian's ankles—Vrrrip!—then forced Her Ladyship to the ground.

Jillian had been fighting her bonds and making as much noise as her gag would allow the entire time, ever since they'd passed through the main gate.  Unfortunately, Sydney, their original captor, knew her ropes and gags, and the catsuited kidnappers seemed to be adept handlers.

Much to Hannah's chagrin, it was only after Jillian was bound hand and foot and writhing on the gravel that it occurred to Hannah to actually try something, no matter how futile the effort.  Her options were severely limited, as she was box-tied with rope, like Jillian—gagged, like Jillian—and tethered by the neck, like Jillian.  However, her legs were free.  Hannah was no martial artist, but she was wearing boots, so...

Apparently, their handler was a martial artist, or enough of one to defeat an attack by an already half-bound and gagged prisoner, anyway.  Hannah's right boot had barely left the ground before her ankle was seized, she was flipped over her kidnapper's knee, and she found herself deposited on her stomach on the ground next to Jillian.

"Urmmf!"  It hadn't been that rough a landing, but Hannah was dazed enough to allow her ankles to be zip-strapped together.  Vrrrip!

"Nrrrf!"  Hannah rolled on her back and and tried another kick, this time with both feet, of course.

Once again, her handler was more than equal to the challenge.  She used the momentum of Hannah's kick to flip her back onto her stomach, fold her legs back—Vrrrip!—and hogtie her with a second strap.

Hannah's heart hammered and fury warred with fear as she fought her bonds.  Her best efforts to escape were pathetically inadequate, even with the added adrenalin rush.

The other catsuit had walked back to the truck, leaving the unconscious Sydney still wrapped in the net, halfway between the truck and the open gate.  She pulled a leather satchel from the back of the truck, settled its strap on her right shoulder, then flipped open the flap.  The neatly coiled ends of several bundles of braided rope dyed a dark shade of gold were revealed.  She closed the flap and walked back towards Sydney.

Meanwhile, the other woman had lifted Jillian and was carrying and dragging her into the back of the truck.  For the next half-minute or so, Hannah heard Jillian mewling gagged complaints from overhead and watched as Sydney's limp form was extracted from the net.  Sydney's captor then began binding her wrists behind her back.

Her heart hammering, Hannah fought her bonds in a frenzy.  Who are these people??  Sydney, what have you done??

Then, Ms. Handler jumped down, released Hannah's hogtie, and was lifting and dragging her into the truck.

"M'mmfh!"

Twisting and struggling, Hannah was lifted and dropped on her back on a narrow bed—no, a gurney—and a strap was tightened across her chest. Vrrrip!  More straps followed, across her waist, thighs, and ankles.  Vrrrip!  Vrrrip!  Vrrrip!

She turned her head and beheld Jillian on what she assumed was an identical gurney, restrained by similar straps.  Their eyes locked.  Clearly, the Mistress of Foxwood had even less of an idea of what was happening than Hannah.

Next, their kidnapper placed what Hannah could only describe as a gas-mask over Jillian's face!  Other than its glass faceplate, it was made of natural rubber.  A long, flexible hose, also of natural rubber, was attached to a regulator and trailed to a row of steel tanks mounted on the truck's forward wall.  Jillian fought, but couldn't prevent straps from being deployed and tightened to hold the mask in place.  The kidnapper opened a small valve on the regulator, then turned her attention to Hannah.

"Nrrrf!"

Hannah was fitted with a second mask and its straps were tightened.  She gazed up through the clear gas at her kidnapper's leather helmet and mask, and the round, silvered lenses of her goggles.  The mask's valve was opened, and she heard a quiet hiss.

Hannah fought her bonds, rope and straps, twisting and bucking her body and mewling through her gag and the close-fitting mask.

Meanwhile, their handler was adhering a copper disk with an adhesive backing to the side of Jillian's throat.  A twisted pair of wires trailed from the disk and were plugged into an old-style electrical panel.  Everything was old-style: fabric insulation on the wires, bayonet-plugs with ceramic housings, incandescent bulbs, and clock-face dials with needle indicators.  There was one exception: a glass panel in an ornate frame then might possibly be a small video monitor.  A second pair of wires, this time trailing from the side of Jillian's gas-mask, were plugged into the panel, then a switch was thrown.

The panel's lamps and dials began to glow, as did the glass panel.  It was a video monitor, and it was black and white—dark and light shades of sepia, actually—and a pair of squiggly lines were painting the screen.  Jillian's pulse and breathing rate, Hannah realized.

Hannah continued struggling as their kidnapper pasted a disk to her neck and plugged its wires into a second panel, one over Hannah's head that she couldn't really see.  The wires from the mask were plugged in, and Hannah struggled.  She struggled because...  because...

Escape!

Yes, she had to escape!  She turned her head and looked at Jillian.  Jillian was gazing back, with her green eyes...  Her incredibly beautiful green eyes...  How Hannah loved those eyes!  Okay, she was willing to help Sydney mess with Jillian, but—sweet god Jillian had beautiful eyes!  No, Jillie-bean!  Don't close your eyes!  Don't... 

Hannah closed her own eyes... and slipped into unconsciousness.

Playacting and/or Foxwood Follies be damned!  Alice had had enough!

Naked, her fair, freckled skin shone with sweat and was soiled with the grime that was part of her costume as the Kidnapped Princess being forced to labor as a thrall by her Evil Aunt.  For the millionth time since Jillian, the Evil Aunt in question, had locked her wrists and ankles in the bondage table's stocks and lashed her down with yards of faux-hemp, microfiber rope, Alice tugged on her bonds.  She didn't bother moaning through the plug-gag the Evil Baroness Sydney had strapped in her mouth.  What was the point?  There was no point in struggling against the stocks and rope, either, but you try not moving when you've been spreadeagled on a hard table with rope lashing you down for...

How long has it been?

How many hours since the Evil Baroness dragged the Saxon Thrall and Her Ladyship out the torture chamber door—and did not rescue the Beautiful Princess Alice, as Connie's script required?  Okay, so Sydney decided to trash the rehearsal and have a little fun.  Big whoop.  Jillian would deal with her little sister, eventually—but to drag off Hannah and Jillian and leave her here?  ...for hours and hours?

What a bitch!

The least she could have done was play with Hannah for a while, then come back and "torture" the Beautiful Princess with one of the Drowish torture wands (vibrators) next to the whips, floggers, etc., etc., on the nearby table.  She could even take a little playful tit-torture, like Sydney had promised.  The compensatory sympathy-sex with Cricket when she returned from Frisco would have more than balanced the books.  But to just leave her here?

Suddenly (finally!) the bolt was thrown and the door opened.

"M'mmrf!"  Kay-bear!  It was Kayley!

Kayley was dressed in one of her Prosperous Peasant costumes.  She hurried to the table and untied the ropes, then released the stocks.

"M'mmf."  Alice's eyes welled as she tried to sit up.  She couldn't help it.  She'd been bound to the table too long for her muscles not to protest when she could finally try and move.

"None of that," Kayley muttered.  "Just lie still, sweetie."  She unbuckled and removed the little redhead's gag, then lifted her into her arms and carried her from the chamber.

Alice stifled a sob, wiped her eyes, then smiled up at Kayley—and her smile faded.  "What's wrong, Kay-bear?"

Kayley's features were set in an angry frown.  "Nothing," she huffed.  "Well, it's something, but we'll discuss it later."

"My dress," Alice said.  "It's back in the torture chamber."

"Never mind," Kayley answered, shaking her head.  "I want you to take a nice bath, maybe soak in the hot tub or bake a few minutes in the sauna, then go to your room and get dressed."

"The thrall rags are in the laundry," Alice objected.

Kayley's lips curled in a grim smile and she leaned close and kissed Alice's cheek.  "Put on something nice, appropriate for a visiting princess, not a kidnapped princess."

"What's going on, Kay-bear?"

Kayley kissed Alice again.  It was another peck on the cheek, as opposed to one of her wet, full-force, patented Kayley-kisses.

By this time, they had reached the Roman Bath's changing room.  Kayley used her side and rump to ease through the airlock doors and into the main Bath.  She then gently lowered Alice to her bare feet.

"Hold up your hair," Kayley ordered.

Alice did so, and felt Kayley insert a small key in her thrall collar.  The iron torus came free, and for the first time in days, Alice was completely nude—not that she minded taking her turn as Drudge Thrall, of course.  She turned and gazed up at her rescuer.  "Kayley, what is—nrrfh!"

She was interrupted by a kiss, and this time it was a full-blown, lip-smacking and tongue-wrapping Kayley-kiss.  The naked little redhead shivered in Kayley's warm embrace and returned the kiss in kind.

Finally, Kayley released her hug and took a step back.  "Get cleaned and dressed, then meet me in the kitchen for your supper, okay?"

"And you'll tell me what's going on?"

Kayley nodded, kissed Alice's forehead (another peck), and reached for the doorknob.  "Yes, as best I can."  She opened the door and was gone.

Alice stared at the airlock door, then watched it shake as Kayley exited through the companion door.  This is... strange.  Something big is up.  She raised her arms over her head and did a full-body, back-arching, boob-flattening stretch—then padded towards the cleaning alcove and its soap bars, sponges, buckets, and showers.

Hot tub, she decided.  A nice soak in the hot tub.

Alice smiled as she made her way from her bedroom in the Residents' Wing to the Keep Kitchen.  She was decidedly refreshed and invigorated by her bath and a semi-long soak in the hot tub.  Her hair was clean, more-or-less dry, and plaited in a loose French braid, and she'd donned one of her favorite gowns, the one with a wide pleat in the front, laced bodice, yoke décolletage, and drooping sleeves, all in two shades of olive.  Her mind was on supper, and her mouth was practically watering.

She pushed open the kitchen door.  "Okay, Kay-bear.  Enough with the mystery.  What the hell is—"  Her blue-green eyes popped wide and she froze in the threshold.  The door bumped her on the rump as it closed, pushing her a step farther into the room.  She continued to stare.

Sydney was naked—completely naked—and tied to a kitchen chair!  The Evil Baroness!  Naked!  Tied up and not in one of the Keep's many much more appropriate venues for such a condition!

Syd's arms were behind her back, and the chair back, as well, and bound at the wrists, forearms, elbows, and shoulders.  More rope lashed her upper body, waist, lap, knees, and ankles to the chair and/or together.  It was a sitting hogtie, with Sydney's feet and toes off the floor—and now that she looked, Alice could see that her cousin's fingers and toes were bound, as well, and were contributing to the hogtie.  Icing on the bondage cake, a thrall-collar, possibly the same collar Kayley had removed from Alice, was now locked around Sydney's throat.

Alice stepped around the chair and could now see that Sydney was gagged.  It looked like three cloths: one as stuffing, a second as a narrow, tight cleave, and the third as a tight, over-the-mouth gag that covered Syd's entire lower face.  Alice stared at the tight, symmetrical web of rope.  Kay-bear's work, was her best guess.

As puzzling as Sydney's predicament was the expression in her blue-green eyes.  She met Alice's surprised gaze, then lowered her eyes to her own tightly bound lap.  She didn't glare and shoot the proverbial daggers, as Alice would have expected.

"Kay-bear?" Alice whispered.

The Mistress of the Kitchen was sitting at the table, reading what was apparently a multi-page letter on expensive parchment stationary.  Adding to Alice's confusion, Kayley's iPhone was in plain sight, right there on the table, in gross violation of Foxwood protocols and totally shattering their carefully nurtured Medieval/High Fantasy façade.

Kayley lifted her eyes from the letter and pointed to a cloth-covered tray at the end of the table.  "Roast beef sandwich with garden greens, potato spears au gratin, a bottle of brown ale, and a small trifle for desert.  Would you prefer wine?"

Her eyes on Sydney, Alice shook her head.  "Ale is fine.  Uh..."  Her gaze turned to Kayley.  "What's going on?"

Kayley, was smiling... sort of.  "Jillian and Hannah will be away for a few days.  I need to make a private call to sort out the details.  Would you please eat in your room so I can do that?"

Alice blinked.  "Huh?  I mean, yeah, sure; but—"

"Please, Princess?" Kayley interrupted.  "I'll be able to tell you more in the morning.  Please?"

"Of course," Alice nodded, and picked up the tray.  "Kay-bear?  Everything's okay... isn't it?"

Kayley's smile brightened a little.  "Of course.  There's nothing to worry about.  In the morning, okay?"

"Okay, g'night."  Alice turned and exited the kitchen, carrying her supper tray.

"Goodnight, Princess," Kayley called after her.

A few seconds passed... then Kayley's smile faded altogether.  She shifted her now overtly angry gaze to Sydney.  "I've reread this letter three times," she growled, "and each time, I get angrier and angrier.  There better not be anything to worry about.  You better not have just made me lie to Alice."

Sydney's gaze remained on her own lap.

Kayley picked up her iPhone, consulted the last page of the letter on the table, and tapped out a number.  Seconds passed, and then she spoke.

"Kayley Barbano for your Mistress."  She continued glaring at Sydney.  "Kayley Barbano—B-A-R-B-A-N-O.  Just put me through."

A few more seconds passed.

"Hello," Kayley continued.  "Yes, it has been a long time, but we can make chitchat after you convince me not to call an acquaintance of mine at the B.I.I.  The Bureau of Investigation and Intelligence?  California Department of Justice?"

Kayley listened for several seconds, punctuating the interlude with the occasional "I see" or "go on."

"Alright," she said, finally, "I'm willing to wait a while longer, but you will let me talk to Jillian, and very soon.  Yes... Goodnight."

Kayley broke the connection and slipped the iPhone into the pocket of her apron.  She then folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, then pocketed it and stood.

Sydney lifted her gagged head and met Kayley's icy stare.

Clearly, Kayley was still very angry.  "If Alice had pulled a stunt like this, I'd be very disappointed.  For you to be the one responsible..."

Sydney dropped her gaze, again.

"I imagine you're probably hungry," Kayley said as she walked towards the door to the Common Room.  "Too bad."  She turned out the lights and made her exit.

Sydney heard the lock turn.  Click.  Only Kayley had the key that locked the kitchen door—Kayley and Jillian, of course.  Sydney sighed through her gag and slumped in her bonds.  She knew from experience she would not be escaping from bonds applied by Kayley Barbano.

Cricket and Constance crept down the hallway of the Residents' Wing.  Both were wearing the costumes they'd stashed in the Lower Mews lockers when they'd changed for their shopping trip—Wood Elf Maiden and Shabby Scholar, respectively.  Both were carrying shopping bags, modern shopping bags with the logos of various stores.  This was flaunting the rules, but it was the sort of minor infraction that was generally winked upon when Foxwood didn't have visitors.

"Let's check in with Alice," Cricket suggested.

"Big surprise," Connie giggled.  "The Elf wants to sneak in on the Princess.  I'm game."

Cricket grinned and reached for Alice's doorknob—but the door flew open before her hand could close.

"Get in here!" Alice ordered in a whisper, then pulled Cricket and Connie into her room and closed the door.  She was dressed in a sheer, full-length, chemise-style nightgown.

"Wow," Cricket gasped, gazing at her lover's pale, freckled body, only slightly obscured by the frilly folds of the gown.  "You look—"  She frowned.  "Where's your collar?  You're on duty 'til the end of the month, aren't you?"

"I was," Alice sighed.  "Wait 'til I tell you what happened."

"The kitchen door is locked," Constance stated.

"On our way in we stopped to raid the pantry," Cricket explained, "but—"

"Let me tell you!" Alice interrupted.

"Well?" The brunettes demanded in unison.

Alice smiled.  "We'll make it a sleepover."  She went to the mantle of the bedroom's small fireplace, pulled a Foxwood Yule token from a small vase, and flipped it towards her visitors.  "Call it."

Cricket snatched the coin from midair.  "Heads!"

"Which would make me 'tails', of course," Connie added.

Cricket slapped the coin on the back of her left hand, then removed her right.

Alice and Cricket smiled at Connie.

"Tails, it is," Connie sighed, and rolled her eyes.  "It figures."

Kayley padded down the hall of the Residents' Wing.  She was barefoot, and was wearing a sheer, linen chemise.  Her long, brown, loose hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back.  She had no real excuse to check on the slumber party in Alice's room, but what else did she have to do?  She was too worried about Jillian and Hannah to sleep, and she had to do something.

She listened at the door for a few seconds... nothing... then slowly turned the knob.

The door wasn't locked.  She pulled it open a wide crack and leaned inside.

Alice, Cricket, and Constance were asleep on the bed.  The mattress and frame were large, but it was still close quarters, even for three munchkins like Alice and the Clarke cousins.  They'd risen to the occasion—or more correctly, reclined to the occasion, by tangling limbs and getting very friendly.

Kayley smiled.  It was cliché, of course, but the redhead and two brunettes were like three slumbering kittens.  Connie was in the middle, with her wrists and ankles bound to the four corners of the bed in a loose spread-eagle.  Alice was on her left and Cricket on her right.

Earlier, no doubt, the scene had been decidedly more active.

No doubt they'd gossiped like teenagers about what they knew—what Alice knew—of the current situation.  For tonight, Jillian and Hannah were away on some mysterious trip and "Kay-bear" was supremely pissed off at Sydney, for some reason.  And once the gossiping was over, the usual amorous frolicking would have ensued.

Tomorrow... Kayley would have to tell them more... but she'd try and wait 'til after she'd talked it over with Jillian.  Then, she'd better know how to spin the situation for the non-guilty parties.

Still asleep, Alice yawned and stretched—which caused Cricket to stretch and hug Connie—which caused Connie to yawn and tug on her bonds, or maybe it was a restrained stretch.

Kayley's eyes sparkled.  I love them so, she sighed, all of them.  I love Jillian and Hannah, too.  Her smile faded.  And Sydney.  I'd like to kill her... slowly... but I love her.  She slowly, carefully pulled the door closed, then pattered back down the hall to her room and climbed into bed.

She had to sleep—despite whatever might be happening to Jillian and Hannah—she had to sleep.  Kayley closed her eyes.  Sydney, of course, would be sleeping in the kitchen, tied to her chair and basking in Kayley's love.  Okay, she'd changed the little fool's gag to a simple cleave and had released her under-the-chair hogtie and lashed her ankles between the front legs, but the Evil Baroness was still in for a very long, very uncomfortable night.

Tomorrow.  I'll deal with it all tomorrow—including Sydney.