TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2011		_
		Chapter 5

Jillian was loosely spreadeagled on the bed, tethered to the four posts by light but very strong steel chains.  But for the broad, padded steel cuffs locked around her wrists and ankles, she was completely naked.  After securing her to the bed, Caroline had lovingly unlaced and removed the white satin corset squeezing Jillian's waist.

Caroline stood and slowly, deliberately, disrobed.  Under normal circumstances, Polly-the-upstairs-maid would have been there to help her undress, but Caroline had sent her away.  Caroline and Jillian were alone.

Jillian smiled.  Her friend was putting on a show, for her benefit.

First came Caroline's tea gown.  She unbuttoned the front and shrugged out of the sleeves, then slid it down and over her hips and let it drop to the floor.  Next came the bustle.  She untied the string and it fell away.  She then sat on the foot of the bed, unbuttoned and removed her shoes, then rolled her stockings down her legs and plucked them from her white feet.  Finally, Caroline stood and unbuttoned and peeled off her camisole.

Jillian watched through half-closed eyes, her head comfortably cradled by a soft pillow.  "I've always loved your skin," she purred.

"Stop," Caroline chuckled, "you're making me blush."

"Mission accomplished," Jillian chuckled.

Certain parts of the Mistress of Silverberry's ivory skin had, indeed, taken on delicate, rose highlights.  "I've always loved your skin, as well, Freckle Farm."  She sat on the bed, again, this time at Jillian's side; then reached out, cupped her guest's (her prisoner's) breasts... and gently squeezed.

"Release me," Jillian whispered, "so I can touch you."

Her pale blue eyes shining, Caroline shook her head.  "Maybe later, if you're very good."  She stretched out on the bed, full-length, and embraced Jillian's freckled body.  Their lips met and their tongues probed and entwined.  The lovers kissed in a manner that would have made Kayley blush (and take notes).

All the while, Caroline's hands caressed Jillian's loosely bound, writhing body.  Then, her lips, tongue, and hands began a gentle, methodical exploration of the writhing redhead's entire body.  Jillian returned the favor as best she could, licking and kissing whatever pale, smooth skin came within reach of her coral lips.

"You selfish demoness," Jillian gasped, tugging on her fetters in frustration.  "Release me!"

"I'm busy!" Caroline answered, her words muffled by Jillian's smooth, peachy-pink flesh.  She slithered down the bed and between Jillian's splayed legs, then parted the shivering redhead's labia with her fingers, leaned close, and thrust her tongue into Jillian's flushed, wet pussy.

"Ahhh!"  Jillian tugged on her cuffs and squirmed with delight.

Caroline reversed position and settled atop Jillian's body.  She continued thrusting her tongue in and out of Jillian's pussy, and now her captive lover was able to return the favor—and she did.

This continued for some time.

Suddenly, the door opened and Polly entered the bedroom.  Caroline and Jillian lifted their heads and watched the maid putter around the room, shaking her head and clucking her tongue as she picked up and folded the discarded garments cluttering the floor.

"I told you to stay out," the Mistress of the Manor growled.

"Madam has made a terrible mess," Polly remarked, pursing her lips in disapproval and ignoring Caroline's words.

Caroline climbed off Jillian and the bed and took a firm grip on Polly's right ear.

"Ow, ow, ow!" the grimacing maid complained as she was dragged to the chest of drawers.

"Unlock the bottom drawer," Caroline ordered.

"Madam!" Polly gasped.

"Not a word, Puck," Caroline growled.  "Do it!"

Jillian watched, as best she could, as Polly unlocked the drawer in question and pulled it open.  Next, the maid was forced to the floor and Caroline knelt over her body.  Most of the action was now below the level of the bed and Jillian couldn't see exactly what was happening.  However, she heard the familiar sound of rope slithering and slapping.  Caroline was tying up her upstairs maid.

Time passed.  Finally, Caroline hauled Polly to her feet and dropped her in one of the wing-chairs.

Jillian could now see quite clearly that Polly was, indeed, tied up.  White rope bound her wrists and elbows behind her back and her knees and ankles were lashed tightly together.  More rope criss-crossed her body from the shoulders down, bunching her rumpled maid's uniform and pressing the black dress and white apron against her very feminine body.  And Caroline was using more rope to make sure Polly would remain in the chair, pulling multiple loops around the chair and the helpless maid and cinching them tight.

A delicious thrill rippled through Jillian's body.  Naked Caroline binding the fully-clothed, pouting maid was an erotic spectacle.  She's so beautiful, she thought, watching Caroline's toned muscles glide under her smooth, pale skin.  And Polly?  The maid's expression signaled contrite resignation, but her big, brown doe eyes continued to sparkle with mischief.  The little scamp was hoping something like this would happen, Jillian realized.

"I imagine Polly is quite a handful," the prisoner on the bed chuckled, "in the best of times."

"You have no idea," Caroline muttered.

Jillian watched Caroline return to the chest of drawers and use Polly's keys to unlock a different drawer.  Another shiver passed through Jillian as she savored the sight of Caroline's strong back, firm buttocks, and white thighs.  Her (their) captor turned and Caroline's breasts, flat tummy, and dark pubic bush came into view.  "You are sooo beautiful," Jillian sighed, gazing at Caroline.

"Indeed, madam," Polly agreed.  "My mistress is very beaui—frrf!"

Caroline had stuffed a large, silky scarf in Polly's mouth and was using a second, narrowly folded scarf to tie a tight cleave-gag.  "I told you to keep quiet," she scolded, then turned to Jillian.  "And as for you... hold that thought."  She used a third scarf to add a tight over-the-mouth gag to Polly's predicament.  Then, she took a step back and stood, hands on hips, gazing at the helpless maid.  "You want to watch?  Okay, Puck, watch."  She turned and strolled back to the bed, a very self-satisfied smile curling her lips.

"You're a succubus," Jillian accused.

Caroline sat on the bed, cupped Jillian's left breast, and smiled.  "So... you think I'm beautiful?"

"For a selfish monster," Jillian teased.

Caroline leaned close and kissed Jillian's lips, gently squeezing her breast at the same time.

Jillian turned her face away and tugged on her chains.  "Release me," she begged.

Caroline shook her head, still smiling.  "Not yet, Freckle Farm.  I'm not done playing."  She squirmed into her former "69" position and resumed licking and sucking Jillian's pussy.

"Demoness!" Jillian hissed, then resumed her tongue exercises, as well.

Polly struggled against the tight, inescapable ropes binding her body and lashing her to the chair.  She watched her mistress and the alluring redhead pleasure each other.  A frisson of delight rippled through her crotch.

I love it when a plan comes together, the naughty maid mused.

Hannah dozed in her bonds, sprawled on the padded floor of the cell.  Hunger and thirst satisfied, her exhaustion had reasserted itself.  Besides, her captors had warned of future sessions with the Orgasmo-whatever Machine.  Best to doze while the dozing was good.

She succeeded in falling asleep... and slept for some time... until...

The door opened and Patricia entered.  She was wearing the same high-collared dress, lab coat, and high button shoes as before.

"Let me go!" Hannah growled.  "Let me go now!"

"Silly girl," Patricia chuckled.  "You're invited to a party, and you want to run away?"

Hannah tugged on her bonds.  "Let me—"  She blinked in surprise.  "A party?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "What party?  What kind of party?""

Patricia smiled.  "Well, it'll be as much a salon as an actual party, but there will be dancing.  Dining will be informal, however.  In any case, my mistress is very much looking forward to meeting you, as are her guests."

"Your mistress?"

"The mistress of the manor," Patricia explained, "the patron of my scientific investigations."

"All of which tells me nothing," Hannah muttered.  "Tell me who the hell is responsible for this, and—m'rrrf!"

Smiling sweetly, Patricia had thrust a rubber ball-gag in Hannah's mouth and was buckling the leather strap at the nape of her neck.  She then pulled Hannah to her feet and dragged her from the cell.

They traveled down the hallway and away from the "laboratory", if Hannah's sense of direction was correct, and through the door at the end of the hall.  A right turn brought them to another row of doors, more or less 'normal' wooden doors, unlike the gray, steel hatches of the holding cells.

Patricia opened a door and led Hannah into a large chamber.  Its walls and floor were clad in gleaming white tiles, and there were a number of drains set in the floor.  To the left and right were several large wooden cabinets, and in the center, under a bank of bright lights, was a... thing.

It was stainless steel, a collection of rods connecting assemblies of inter-meshed gears with hand-cranks.  There were also fetter-like clamps padded with rubber and several dangling straps.  It was solidly bolted to the floor and looked quite strong.

A chill rippled up Hannah's spine.  It's some sort of adjustable frame for the handling of prisoners, she realized.

"Our dressing frame," Patricia said, providing confirmation.

Hannah tried to resist, but, between her bonds and Patricia's hand firmly gripping her hair, she couldn't prevent herself from being dragged to the "dressing frame".  A padded collar closed around her throat, and the issue was more or less decided.  Patricia removed Hannah's harness, one component at a time, and she soon found herself secured to the frame at the ankles and wrists.

Her useless hands were now secured two feet to either side of her pinioned head and her feet were flat on the tiled floor, about three-feet apart.  Hannah glared at her captor.

Patricia walked away and returned wheeling a vertical stand with a rubber bag and coiled rubber hose dangling from a hook at the top.  Hannah's eyes popped wide and she whined through her gag.  Obviously, it was an apparatus for delivering an enema!  "Let's get you nice and clean," Patricia purred as she rolled the stand forward, "inside and out."

Hannah mewled and tugged on her bonds.  The frame didn't even shake.  Then, her angry complaints became a whine of distress.  The probe at the end of the hose had first nudged her anus, and now was sliding past her clenched sphincter and into her rectum.

The procedure that followed was as inevitable as it was unpleasant; however, it was only slightly messy.  The chamber had the equipment necessary to deal with the problem.

"And now for the outside," Patricia said.

This involved another hose, this one with an attached nozzle, as well as a bucket of soapy water, a sponge, and a soft-bristle brush.  In short order, Hannah was in the promised state: clean.  She was also dripping wet, hair and skin.  Granted, the "bath" had been humiliating, but the water was warm and the soap gentle.  It hadn't stung her eyes.  Most important of all, Patricia had also been gentle.

Next, Patricia took a comb to Hannah's hair, gently untangling its many snarls.  She then wrapped gathered strands around rollers and spritzed on some sort of chemical treatment.

A rather clunky, helmet-style hair dryer was next.  Patricia wheeled it behind Hannah, settled it over her head, and clamped it in place.

Hannah sighed through her gag as the dryer began to blow air across her rolled hair.  The water was evaporating from her skin, but the room's air temperature was comfortably warm.

Patricia stepped around the frame and smiled at her glowering prisoner.  "I'll be back to dress you, comb out your hair, and get you ready for the party."  She leaned forward and kissed Hannah's gagged lips.  "It'll be fun, I promise."  She then turned and left the room, locking the door behind her.

Hannah sighed, again.  Yeah, she worried, fun for who?

After an extended romp with her spreadeagled, red-haired guest, followed by a refreshing nap for both, Caroline climbed off the bed and untied Polly.  "Assist Jillian with her toilette," she ordered, then headed for the door.

"Madam is naked," Polly noted.

Caroline winked at Jillian, padded back to Polly and planted a kiss on her lips, then headed back to the door.  "Your keen powers of observation never cease to amaze, Puck," she chuckled as she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I wonder how the hell they're opening that door, Jillian wondered.  Obviously, there was a secret mechanism of some sort, but from the bed she couldn't see what they were doing.

"Madam can be very brazen," Polly said, with prim disapproval.  She walked to the bed, sat at Jillian's side, and placed a hand on the redhead's flat, firm stomach.  "Very brazen," she reiterated, smiling down at Jillian.

Jillian smiled back.  "Brazen, skilled, and creative."

Polly nodded.  "Will madam cooperate if I release her from her restraints?"

"Aren't you afraid I'll overpower you," Jillian chuckled, "strip you naked, tie you up—"

"Like mistress tied me?" Polly interrupted, "nice and tight?"

"Tie you up, nice and tight," Jillian continued, "and use your uniform to make my escape?"

"That would be terrible," Polly shuddered, a coy smile belying her words.  "It would ruin all of my mistress' plans."

"Oh."  Jillian pretended to consider Polly's point.  "That would be terrible.  Very well, you have my word of honor."

Polly leaned close and kissed Jillian's lips.

Jillian returned the kiss, then, her green eyes popped wide and she hummed into Polly's mouth.  The maid's hand had slid down her tummy, through her copper-red pubic bush, and was now caressing her labia.  Jillian turned her head to the side and tugged on her bonds.  "I can see why Caroline calls you Puck," she whispered, shivering as the gentle massage continued.

Polly smiled, reached into her apron and produced her keys, and unlocked Jillian's right wrist cuff.

Silverberry Manor's ballroom is quite beautiful.  At the moment it was brightly lit, thanks to its many wall sconces and crystal chandeliers, all with flickering electric bulbs.  Above the wainscoting, the walls were clad with mirrored panels shot through with random threads of gold and silver.  They added to the brightness.  The floor was hardwood parquet, and the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall faced the manor's formal gardens, now cloaked in darkness.  The sun had set some hours before.

A small orchestra was playing from a stage at one end of the elegant room, but it wasn't just any orchestra.  The musicians were all dressed in formal male evening attire, but their heads and hands were made of shining metal.  In point of fact, they were mechanical automatons, truly wonders of modern electro-pneumatic technology.  (Actually, the music was emanating from hidden speakers and the robots "playing" the instruments were only window-dressing.)

Something like two dozen guests were present, male and female.  All were dressed in formal Victorian/Edwardian evening wear.

The men were in black tail coats and trousers, silk waistcoats, and white shirts with winged collars and white ties.  Several had mustaches and a few sported full beards.

The women were "Gibson girls", every one, with minor variations of color and couture.  All of their gowns had long, full trains, bustles, and wasp-waists that could only be achieved through the wearing of tight, boned corsets underneath.  A few had puffed, elbow-length sleeves, but most were strapless.  All had very low necklines.  A great deal of smooth, feminine skin was on display.  The women's coiffures were all elaborate and elevated in style.

There was one notable exception to convention.  Jaclyn was wearing trousers and a tail coat, as well as wing-collared shirt, waistcoat, and tie, all in dazzling white.  The pants hugged her hips, but draped straight to her white boots, without break.  Her coat and shirt were tailored to accentuate her narrow waist and the swell of her bosom.  Her dark hair was oiled, combed back, and gathered in a tight bun in the back.

Maids in traditional black and white uniforms circulated among the guests with silver trays laden with crystal flutes or hors d'oeuvres.

One of the maids, however, was easily differentiated from the rest.  She was dressed like the others, but was unusually short of stature.  Her straight, dark hair was cut in a short pageboy.  More importantly, her neck, wrists, and ankles were locked in a steel collar and tight fetters, all connected by light, silvery chain.  The loose arrangement allowed her to carry a small tray of flutes.  In addition, her head was caged by a steel brank that anchored a form-fitting panel across her mouth.  One would surmise she was being punished for some infraction of Silverberry staff discipline, but was still expected to serve at the party.

The guests chatted, sipped champagne, and sampled the trays of savory tidbits.  The orchestra struck up a Strauss waltz and several couples began to dance.

A good time was being had by all (with the possible exception of the maid in chains).

As the waltz ended, a murmur passed through the crowd and all eyes turned to the ballroom's main doorway.

Caroline and Jillian were making their entrance.

The Mistress of Silverberry Manor was wearing a stunning gown of ivory satin.  It was sleeveless, with rose blossom accents and opera gloves in a shade of coral-pink that complemented her smiling lips.  Her dark hair was up (of course), and her white shoulders, firm upper arms, and long neck were on regal display, as were the top slopes of her corset-supported breasts.  She seemed to float into the room, her gown's full train rustling with every graceful step.

Jillian was equally exquisite.  Her gown was a very pale shade of moss-green with rust-red ribbon accents that complemented her complexion and her beautifully coiffed, copper-red hair.  Pastel rust-red opera gloves clad her freckled arms.

Both women were wearing jewelry: earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, sparkling with white diamonds.  Caroline's were accented with blue diamonds and sapphires, while Jillian's featured settings of emeralds and rubies.  There was a somewhat unusual feature to Jillian's matching bracelets.  They were joined by a light, one-foot chain set with diamonds, and were locked around her wrists by tiny, heart-shaped padlocks covered with tiny rubies.

Jillian was a prisoner... a beautiful, elegantly gowned and coiffed prisoner.

"I know some of your guests," Jillian whispered to her hostess.

"Yes," Caroline whispered back.  "I wouldn't be surprised if our client lists have significant overlap."

"It would be nice to compare," Jillian smiled, "but customer privacy concerns forbid, do they not?"

Caroline nodded in agreement, then waved to a couple across the room.  "We'll circulate and I'll make the introductions," she suggested.  "You're Lady Foxwood, visiting from Wales."  She smiled at her guest.  "Or would you rather be a Scot?"

"Welsh is fine."  Jillian lifted her expensively cuffed wrists.  "And how will you explain my captivity."

Caroline's smile widened.  "It would be very rude of my guests to take public notice of the eccentricities of a visiting foreigner."

"Or their hostess," Jillian chuckled.  "I assume your guests are all complete strangers to Lady Foxwood, including the ones who have been my guests."

"That would probably be for the best," Caroline agreed.

Just then, accompanied by the musical tinkling of steel on steel, the maid-in-chains minced up to Caroline and Jillian and offered the pair of flutes balanced on her tray.  Caroline took both flutes and handed one to Jillian.

"One of your staff spoiled by Polly's bad influence?" Jillian whispered as the maid clinked away.

"Actually," Caroline whispered back, "Chloe is a paying guest.  During her visits, the poor dear is, shall we say, teased and disciplined, unmercifully, by her fellow maids and the senior staff."

Jillian nodded.  "She's adorable.  She'd make an excellent Wood Elf, or maybe an outlaw captured from the Green Wood, a girl passing as a boy in hose and jerkin."

"I'll try and find occasion to acquaint her with Foxwood's potential as a vacation destination," Caroline said with a grin.

"Most kind," Jillian smiled.  "Anyway, she's adorable.  I love those sad, doe eyes."

Caroline gestured to the right, towards a cluster of guests.  "Shall we?"

"By all means," Jillian answered, and they strolled towards a knot of chatting couples.

The orchestra struck up another waltz and the party continued.

Jillian and Caroline were chatting with an "airship captain" and his "scientist wife".  The couple were about to embark on an expedition on behalf of New York City's famous Explorers' Club.  They would be taking their zeppelin up the Amazon in search of an unmapped plateau rumored to host unusually large lizards.

Suddenly, a quiet gasp passed through the ballroom, followed by a heightened buzz of conversation.

Jillian turned towards the door to find a beautiful brunette joining the party.  She was wearing a strapless, satin gown in buttercup yellow trimmed with white lace.  A pair of gold spectacles were perched on her button nose and her ample bosom challenged the confines of her gown's décolletage.  An exquisite sight, to be sure, but the newcomer was not the cause of the sensation.  She was leading a prisoner on a long leash of silver chain—and that prisoner was Hannah Blair.

Hannah's hair was swept back and captured at the nape of her neck by a baby-blue ribbon.  It then continued down her back in a full, tousled mass of blonde curls.  She was gowned much the same as the other women; however—and it was a big however—her strapless gown, bustle, and knickers were of whisper-thin fabric, technically white, but as insubstantial as evening mist.  The sheer cloth did nothing to hide the pale blue corset squeezing Hannah's waist; nor did it conceal any detail of her feminine charms.  Gown and underwear were trimmed with a froth of equally transparent lace decorated with baby-blue ribbons.  Matching blue opera gloves clad her arms and blue slippers with cuff-like ankle straps were on her feet.

Hannah's hands were behind her back and locked in diamond studded cuffs, similar to Jillian's, but with a much shorter connecting chain.  A diamond-studded choker encircled her throat, its attached leash of fine chain in Patricia's hand.  A wide strip of white tape with a satin finish was plastered over Hannah's mouth, and a pair of ruby-red lips had been painted on its shining surface, directly over her real lips.  Her blue eyes challenged the assembled revelers with a fierce glare; however, even the blonde's rich tan couldn't disguise the blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"Full marks for creativity and execution," Jillian whispered as she took a step to the side, using Caroline as a shield to keep her from Hannah's view.  "You're making life very difficult for poor Hannah."

"You have no idea," a new voice purred.

Jillian turned to find the brunette in all-white male drag smiling at her over a flute of champagne.

"Lady Jillian Foxwood," Caroline said, "allow me to present Miss Jaclyn Westling, a senior member of my staff."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Jillian purred, her attention split between the introduction and peeking over Caroline's white shoulder to steal glimpses of Hannah's plight.

Jaclyn lifted and kissed Jillian's gloved hands.  "Actually, we've already met, back at Foxwood, and quite recently.  It was I who captured your little sister."

Hannah had been led to the center of the ballroom and was now surrounded by a crowd of admiring guests.  Half-whispers drifted from the group, words like "beautiful," "Gwendoline," "trollop," and "brazen."

Jillian smile at Jaclyn.  "I witnessed only the beginning of your rope-work before I was dragged away, but what I did see was most impressive."

Jaclyn smiled.  "Perhaps I can give you a full demonstration of my skills, later."

Caroline cleared her throat.  "Ahem."

"Perhaps not," Jaclyn purred.  "Your blonde's current handler was my partner in crime."

"The pretty brunette in yellow with the glasses?" Jillian asked.

"The same," Jaclyn confirmed.  She smiled at Caroline.  "If you insist on keeping this gorgeous red-haired creature to yourself, perhaps I can demonstrate my skills for Her Ladyship with Pat as my subject."

"Perhaps," Caroline chuckled, "or, I could let Jillian demonstrate her skills on you.  I assure you, she's quite accomplished."  Still smiling, she nodded towards a knot of guests not clustered around Hannah.  "Circulate and entertain," she ordered.

"Your Ladyship," Jaclyn said, bowing politely.

"Miss Westling," Jillian acknowledged with a curtsy, then focused on Hannah, again.

Several women had crowded close to the helpless blonde and appeared to be running their hands over her squirming body.

"Caroline!" Jillian complained in a whisper.

"Patricia won't let Hannah be harmed," Caroline promised.

"This is very mean," Jillian huffed.  "Brilliant, but mean."

"She doesn't seem to have noticed you," Caroline purred, "despite your flaming red hair.  We'll let my guests have a little more innocent fun, then we'll all have a nice chat."

"Innocent fun," Jillian huffed.

A maid with a towel-wrapped magnum refilled their flutes.

"Cheers," Caroline said, and tapped Jillian's flute with her own.

"Cheers," Jillian sighed.

Across the ballroom, the giggling, elegantly gowned hen party continued.  "Mrrrf!" Hannah complained, squealing through her gag as gloved and bejeweled hands continued to grope her body.  The giggles intensified.

"Poor Hannah," Jillian sighed.

Caroline leaned close and planted a kiss on Jillian's cheek.  "Poor Jillian," she whispered.  "Wait 'til later.  I've made plans."

A thrill shivered through Jillian's crotch and up her spine.  "No surprise, there," she whispered back, and sipped her champagne.