TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2011		_
		Chapter 8

"We call this our Heterodynamic Erotolating Roboarticulated Tickulatron," Caroline explained as they descended the stairs, "or H.E.R.T. machine."  She'd pitched her voice so Jillian and Hannah could hear her over the hum of the complex device.

Down below, Patricia was making adjustments to an impressive bank of instruments, fiddling with dials, throwing switches, repositioning levers, and scribbling notations on a clipboard.  She was in full Mad Scientist mode: hair up, glasses perched on her button nose, and wearing a lab coat over a stylish, high-collared dress.  Jaclyn was at her side, resplendent in her brown leather catsuit, her hair pulled back in a single long braid that trailed down her back.  A coiled whip hung from her left hip and a broom-handle Mauser machine-pistol was holstered on her right.

And in the center of the room, brightly lit under an array of spotlights was—Pilar.

The raven-haired "Gypsy Princess" was spreadeagled on a minimalist rack, little more than narrow beams that supported her splayed limbs and her torso and head.  Her wrists and ankles were secured in wide, thick-walled, well-padded steel clamps.  She was nude and under significant stretch, her muscles well-defined and her breasts nearly flattened.  Her darkly tanned skin glistened with sweat—or possibly, it had been oiled.  The grimace on her shining face could be explained by either the two-inch ball-gag strapped in her mouth, the stringency of her racked condition, the machine module that was currently churning, thrusting, and vibrating inside her pussy... or a combination of the three.

"In truth," Caroline continued, this time in a lower voice, "most of the machinery you see serves no real purpose.  It's steampunk window-dressing.  Only a few of the modules are actually functional."

The rack was mounted on a circular platform that appeared to be a large gear-wheel.  Smaller drive-gears mounted on the floor at regular intervals meshed with the platform's large teeth to make it spin.  As they watched, the undulating dildo slowly thrusting in and out of Pilar's pussy withdrew and the entire module trundled back, traveling along one of more than a dozen tracks set in the floor.  The drive gears turned, the rack rotated several degrees, and a new module rolled forward.  Its business end was an array of rotating feather dusters on a robotic arm.

Caroline held up her right hand and Patricia threw a switch.  The module froze in place and the feathers stopped spinning, still several inches from Pilar's flushed, glistening pussy and sweat-slick thighs.  Caroline walked towards the rack with the leather-bound and tape-gagged Jillian and Hannah in tow.

Meanwhile, Jaclyn had left the control area and was loosening the strap of Pilar's gag.  She plucked the ball from the spreadeagled captive's mouth—Pop!—and let it drop onto her chest.

Caroline smiled down at Pilar, then focused on Patricia.  "How many times has she cum?"

"Only twice, Mistress," Patricia answered.

Caroline nodded, then smiled at Jillian and Hannah.  "Frustration is the order of the day," she explained.  "Our goal is to develop an autodidactic difference engine that can monitor a victim's state of physiological arousal and provide modulated stimuli that will keep her on the very edge of orgasm, but deny her relief.  So far, we have had only limited success.  Human monitoring and intervention is still required, especially with a randy tart who cums easily, like Princess Pilar du Romay."  She handed Jillian and Hannah's leashes to Jaclyn, then reached down and stroked Pilar's forehead, combing errant strands of raven hair away from her glistening face.  "Well?"

Pilar licked her lips before answering.  "You really think this will make me talk?"

Caroline shook her head.  "No, Princess du Romany, I think this will drive you mad with sexual frustration.  In a few hours, you will beg for the privilege of telling me all you know."  She nodded at Jaclyn.

With an evil smile, her leather-clad minion handed back the leashes, then restored Pilar's gag.

Caroline led Jillian and Hannah to Patricia's control station.  "Has the Princess experienced the full capability of the H.E.R.T.?" she inquired.

"Every square inch of the subject's skin has been explored by the machine," Patricia confirmed, "but only using one module at a time."

Caroline was smiling at Pilar's stretched, shining body.  "Hmmm...  A demonstration for Her Ladyship, I think.  Five modules at once, shall we?  Tickulation only."

Patricia nodded and began throwing switches.  Jaclyn took several prudent steps back, away from the rack.

A final switch was thrown—click—a lever arm was pushed forward—tick-tick-tick-tick-tick—and the rack began to slowly rotate.  It clicked past the myriad of floor tracks, usually with no effect; but four times, there was audible click and a module began to roll forward.  The rack completed one complete rotation—Thunk!—and locked in place.  The feather duster array was once again near Pilar's crotch, but now it had been joined by four new modules,  positioned on either side of her waist and near each armpit.

"Note the articulated arms with their many rotating feathers, brushes, and vibrating probes," Caroline explained, then continued in a whisper.  "Obsolete industrial robots," she explained, "dressed up with steampunk fittings and decorations.  Patricia is an absolute genius at scrounging and adapting clunky technology."

"I do my best," Patricia chuckled.  She positioned her right index finger over a big red button, then gave her mistress a significant glance.

Caroline nodded.

Patricia pressed the button—the whine of small engines slowly spinning up joined the general machine noise—the various appendages at the business ends of the five modules began to spin, shake, and buzz—and the arms began to extend towards Pilar's glistening body.

The H.E.R.T. worked its magic, its several articulated appendages independently caressing and teasing the Gypsy Princess' thighs, pussy, ribs, tummy, armpits, and breasts, swirling in lazy circles over her struggling, shining form.  Pilar's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she was either screaming or laughing through her gag—it was difficult to tell which.  It was quite clear, however, that she was not happy.

"I recommend three to seven minute periods of stimulation," Patricia said to Caroline, "punctuated by similar periods of rest.  Randomly modulated, of course."

Caroline nodded.  "And the overall length of the session?"

Patricia shrugged.  "Oh... I don't know... until lunch?"

Jaclyn joined the group.  "I'm not hungry," she said with a grin.  "I can spell you at the controls while you nibble a sandwich."  Obviously, she'd heard Patricia's suggestion.

"Whatever you both think is best," Caroline answered, "just don't drive her mindlessly insane before she has a chance to talk."

Jillian and Hannah were both staring, their eyes wide above their gags, at the spectacle of a totally helpless and frenzied Pilar tugging on her bonds and mewling through her gag.  Droplets of sweat flew from Pilar's tossing head as her tousled hair thrashed in ebony waves.

Jillian's and Hannah's leashes snapped taut.  Caroline was leading them back to the stairs.

As she climbed the steps Hannah nearly tripped, more than once.  Her eyes were on Pilar's plight.  I don't know if I could take that, she thought, but if anyone can, it's Pillie.  In terms of stamina, Pilar was a Foxwood legend.  Apparently, however, medieval "torture" wasn't enough to slake her Damsel-in-Distress appetite and Pilar felt compelled to test herself against the best (or worse) Silverberry's steampunk technology had to offer, as well.

Caroline led her prisoners through the door, it closed—and the noise of the machines and Pilar's gagged screams and laughter was cut off.  They continued down the hallway and into another room.

Hannah recognized the bathing and dressing chamber, the white-tiled room where Patricia had cleaned her up and dressed her for the previous evening's party.  The adjustable dressing frame was waiting in the center, under the lights, its dangling straps and open cuff-clamps waiting to embrace its next customer (or victim, depending on your point of view).

Caroline secured the loop at the end of Hannah's leash to the frame, then kissed her tape-gagged lips and turned towards the door.  Jillian's leash snapped taut, but she held her place.

Caroline's amused gaze turned from Jillian, to Hannah, and back.  "Don't worry.  My maids will be along to help your Saxon Princess."  She smiled at Hannah.  "I'm not simply abandoning her.  Not for very long, anyway."  She started for the door, again. 

This time, Jillian heaved a sigh and followed.

Hannah watched the door close, then looked around the chamber, pointedly not dwelling on the enema apparatus tucked between the hose reel rack and a steel cabinet laden with various bottles of liquid soap and shampoo.  Everything was as she remembered it... from yesterday.

Hannah sighed through her gag and settled in to wait.

Caroline led Jillian up the stairs and to her bedroom.  They entered and she gestured towards one of a pair of comfortably padded wing chairs.

Jillian settled into the chair and watched as Caroline unclipped the leash from her collar.   Her hostess then knelt, crossed Jillian's ankles, and used the leather strap to cinch them together and bind them to one of the chair's wooden legs.  She finished by clipping the end of the leash back through its wrist-loop.

"There," Caroline said.  She stood, walked to the bed, tugged on the bell-sash, and began unbuttoning her tea gown.  By the time she'd dealt with the front and wrist closures and was shrugging out of the sleeves, the door had opened and Polly had entered.

The maid curtsied.  "Madam?"

"My new traveling outfit, I think."  She continued pulling off the tea gown.  "The gray one."

"Yes, madam."  Polly helped her mistress disrobe.  Soon Caroline's costume was reduced to camisole, bloomers, stockings, and high button shoes.

Polly walked to the wall and thumbed a switch, and Jillian watched a lacing bar lower from the ceiling.  It was a horizontal rod dangling from two stout chains, identical to the bar back in the "Gilded Cage" bedroom.

Caroline stepped under the apparatus, reached up, and took hold of the trapeze-like bar.

Polly produced a corset from a wardrobe.  She fit it around her mistress' waist, clipping it closed over the camisole, then smiled at Jillian and began tightening its laces.

Helpless in her bonds, tape-gagged, her ankles bound to her chair, Jillian watched as the corset tightened around Caroline's waist.  Polly tugged and cinched, tugged and cinched, working her way down the crisscrossed laces.  The back seams had met by the time she reached the bottom, but Polly wasn't finished.  She produced a lacing hook, a metal rod something like a knitting needle, and began tightening the laces even further.

Caroline's pale-blue eyes glazed as the corset squeezed ever tighter.  Her bosom heaved as she panted through parted lips.  "I believe that's enough, Polly," she whispered.

"Almost, madam," Polly answered, and continued hooking and tugging on the laces.  Finally, she tied a bow, doubled it, wrapped the long free ends around Caroline's now drastically reduced waist, and tied another bow.  She then pocketed the lacing hook and took a step back.  "Most attractive, madam," she sighed.

Caroline released the bar and turned in a slow pirouette.  "Most restrictive," she corrected, with a grimacing smirk.

Polly continued dressing her mistress, and soon Caroline was in a long, full, gray skirt over a modest bustle—a white blouse with a high collar and a long, thin, black tie—and a wasp-waisted gray jacket with long sleeves puffed at the shoulders.

Caroline sat in the chair next to Jillian's so Polly could exchange her high button shoes for black riding boots.  "How is my hair?" she asked.

"Perfect, madam," Polly answered, rocking back on her heels and smiling up at her mistress.

Caroline stood and smiled at Jillian.  "I have a few arrangements to make with the staff.  You know the outfit I've chosen for Her Ladyship?"

"Yes, madam," Polly answered.

"Come," Caroline said, and walked to the door.

Polly followed and listened as Caroline whispered in her ear.  Her eyes on Jillian, her grin grew into a happy smile.  Finally, Caroline opened the door and left.  Polly curtsied as the door closed, then smiled at Jillian as she strolled to her chair.

The smiling maid leaned close and checked Jillian's bonds.  First, she ran her fingers over the buckles of the straps and cuffs enforcing Jillian's arm-pinning, reverse-prayer bondage.  Next, she knelt and checked the leash looped around Jillian's ankles.  Finally, her eyes sparkling and her full lips curled in a saucy smile, she smoothed Jillian's tape-gag.  "Nice and snug," she whispered, then kissed Jillian's taped lips.  "I have arrangements of my own to make.  I'll be back as soon as I can, madam."  She curtsied, then sauntered out the door, locking it behind her.

Jillian sighed and shook her head.  Little scamp!  The game is afoot.  She didn't bother testing her bonds.  For the immediate future, Jillian knew her role in whatever was unfolding would remain passive.

Actually, Jillian didn't have long to wait.  The key turned in the lock and the door opened after only a few minutes.  Polly entered the bedroom, followed by a second maid, and then a third.  All were carrying folded items of clothing.

The second maid was a pretty young thing, and Jillian decided she was about the same age as Alice, Cricket, or Connie, back at Foxwood.  Her fine hair was blond, her skin fair, and her eyes blue.

The third maid was short, downright tiny, in fact, with her straight, black hair cut in a Lulu bob.  She was equally cute and young, and Jillian recognized her as the maid who was about to have her heinie paddled in the smoking lounge, last night.

"Dakin," Polly ordered, as she dropped her armload on the bed, "lay out Her Ladyship's change of attire."

The blonde carried her armload to the bed, as well. 

"Chloe," Polly continued, "help me control Her Ladyship."

The tiny maid dropped her load, then blinked her hazel-brown eyes in surprise.  "Control her?  Me?"

Jillian's eyes twinkled above her gag.  She's adorable.  I have got to get her to Foxwood.

Polly winked at Jillian, then glared at Chloe.  "You really do have a problem following simple orders.  I'm senior upstairs maid.  Get over here right now, or I'll punish you, myself."

Chloe scampered over and gazed at Jillian.  "What do you want me to do?"

Polly rolled her eyes and shook her head.  "If she gives me any trouble, grab her."

Cloe stared at Jillian.  "Grab her?"

"Just do it!" Polly snapped (then winked at Jillian, again).  "Untie her ankles," she ordered.

Chloe knelt and set to work.

Meanwhile, Polly had leaned close to Jillian and was releasing her other bonds.  "Chloe is a paying customer," she whispered in Jillian's right ear, very softly.  "May I count on your help 'entertaining' her?"

Jillian nodded.

Chloe pulled the leash free and stood.  "What now?" she asked.

"I told you," Polly huffed.  "If she tries to fight or run, grab her."

"I'll try," Chloe sighed.

"You'll do it!" Polly barked.

Chloe watched, nervously, as Polly reduced "Her Ladyship's" costume to stockings, garters, and tape-gag.  The gossip in the attic dormitory was the forty-something redhead was Mistress Saunder's old girlfriend.  (Some said ex-slave.)  Whoever she was, she was gorgeous.  On that the entire staff agreed, including Chloe.

In short order (thanks largely to her "prisoner's" cooperation) Polly had restored most of Jillian's leather bonds.  Now, Lady Foxwood's arms were raised and folded back behind her head and over the lacing bar, with the wrist-cuffs linked to the elbow-cuffs and the back of her collar.

"Nice boobies," Dakin remarked, staring at the freckled globes in question, a smile on her lips and her hands on her hips.  "Just out of curiosity, how is this going to help us get her dressed?"

"Oh, it isn't," Polly chuckled.  "You know where Mistress keeps her toys?"  Dakin nodded.  "Fetch the spreader bar, would you?"

"You're going to get us in trouble!" Chloe whined.

Dakin had opened a cabinet and produced a three-foot steel bar with a leather cuff at each end.  She spread Jillian's legs and buckled the cuffs around her ankles.

"Let's just dress her, like we were told, okay?" Chloe suggested.

Polly and Dakin exchanged an evil smile, then pounced.

"Hey!  No!"  Her fellow maids were binding Chloe's hands behind her back with a length of cord.  "C'mon, you guys—M'mmpfh!"  A handkerchief had been stuffed in her mouth and a black scarf was being tied to keep it in place.

Jillian had a perfect view (probably not by coincidence) as Polly and Dakin stripped Chloe to the skin, then used an abundance of white rope from Caroline's extensive collection to bind the tiny maid's pale, perfectly proportioned body.  She noted, with professional approval, as Chloe's arms were folded behind her back and bound in an arm-pinning, shoulder yoking box-tie.  Then, her ankles, feet, and big toes were lashed together, as were her thighs, knees, and calves.  She really does have an incredible little body, Jillian mused.  Nice breasts, smooth skin, good muscle tone... what's not to like?

Naked and helpless in her bonds, Chloe was on her knees in front of the equally helpless Jillian.  Dakin was standing beside Chloe, a hand clutching the diminutive captive's short hair.  Polly was behind Jillian, close behind Jillian.

"Remove her gag," Polly ordered, nodding at Chloe, and Dakin did so.

"I'm gonna tell," Chloe sobbed as the hankie was plucked from her mouth.

"No, you're gonna nuzzle Her Ladyship's carpet and lick her pussy," Polly chuckled.  She embraced Jillian from behind, squeezing her left breast and running her fingers through her copper-red pubic hair, the "carpet" in question.  Jillian shivered in response.

Chloe blushed.  "No!—Ah!"  Dakin had tightened her grip on her hair and was forcing her head forward.  "Nrrrf!"

"It's not like you don't know how," Dakin purred as she squashed Chloe's mouth against Jillian's crotch.  "Don't make me fetch one of Mistress' crops."

Polly continued squeezing and massaging Jillian's breasts, now with both hands.  "You will let me know if Chloe doesn't do a good job, won't you, Lady Foxwood?"

Jillian continued squirming and tugging on her bonds.  In point of fact, Chloe was doing a very good job, and recent events—Pilar's ordeal, Hannah's abandonment, watching Caroline's change of attire, and little Chloe's capture, stripping, and bondage—recent events had more than primed her pump.

"Not too quickly, Chloe," Polly purred.  "And that goes for you too, Your Ladyship.  Our mistress will need plenty of time to complete her preparations, and she would be most disappointed if her staff failed to provide madam with memorable service."

Jillian continued struggling and writhing.  Polly was now clutching her waist, pressing forward with her body against her butt and steadying her lower body, making Chloe's task of eating her pussy easier (not that the munching Munchkin had been having any particular difficulty, before).  Oh god! Jillian thought.  If I ever get this little pixie in the Stone Tower, I might not ever let her out!  A saucy smile on her face, Dakin reached out and gently squeezed Jillian's erect nipples.  Oh god!  You can come too, Blondie—and Polly!

Chloe's tongue continued thrusting and twirling and her lips sucking, and Jillian continued squirming and quaking.  Polly and Dakin locked eyes and grinned.  And eventually, Jillian screamed through her tape-gag and her body went perfectly rigid.  She shivered once... then again... then collapsed in her bonds, breathing once more.

"Wasn't that nice?" Polly inquired.

"You can stop, Chloe," Dakin giggled, pulling the little captive's head back.

"I hate you!" Chloe pouted, licking her lips.

"Gag her," Polly ordered.

"No—M'fff!"  Dakin had stuffed the hankie back in Chloe's mouth and was cinching and knotting the cleaving scarf.

Polly's hands were still on Jillian's hips.  "Hogtie the little snip on the bed, then we'll get Her Ladyship dressed."

"Good and tight, so she can barely squirm?" Dakin asked, her hand still gripping Chloe's hair.  "Maybe with a knotted crotch-rope linking her thumbs, toes, and the back of her gag?"

"Is there any other way?" Polly purred.

Hannah stomped down the hallway, a maid holding each of her arms.  She was more than a little ticked off.

Back in the bathing chamber, six maids had appeared, all of whom she recognized from the attic dormitory.  They proceeded to release her from her bonds, undress her, and redress her in her current outfit—her current irritatingly ridiculous outfit.  She hadn't resisted—much—but it was entirely moot, as her giggling but well-trained handlers made full use of their superior numbers and the well-engineered dressing frame to expedite the process.

Once secured to the frame and stripped to the skin, Hannah was fitted with a corset of tan, chamois-thin leather.  It closed with laces and a web of thin straps and had half-cup shelves to support her breasts.  It also had thin leather straps and a leather panel that cleaved and cupped her crotch and pussy, creating a humiliating camel toe which the maids took delight in caressing and stroking.

A rather curious blouse was next.  It had long sleeves and a high collar, but it was really more halter-top than blouse, leaving her corset-constricted midriff exposed.  Also, the linen over her breasts was whisper thin and tight enough to compress her already bulging breasts.  Her areoles and nipples were plainly visible through the gossamer fabric.

Next came a pleated wool skit and matching blazer, both navy-blue.  The skirt came to Hannah's mid thighs.  The blazer had a wide belt that buckled tight around her corseted waist before the front buttons were closed, hiding it from view. An embroidered shield-crest on the blazer's breast pocket read "Silverberry Academy."

Hannah's blouse collar was buttoned and a silver and olive-green striped tie added.  Next, her hair was parted down the middle, plaited into pigtails, and the ends tied with narrow ribbons that matched the tie.  White ankle socks trimmed with frilly lace and black, patent-leather pumps with ankle straps went on her feet.

Her hands were folded behind her back and a navy-blue binder laced tight, covering and encasing her fingers, hands, wrists and forearms, from elbow to elbow.  Next, her white medical tape-gag was peeled off, a foam ball stuffed in her mouth before she could do more than sputter a muffled protest, and a panel of flesh-tone elastic tape stretched over her lips.  Then, makeup was applied and her taped lips were painted with red lip-gloss.  The final touch was a straw boater with a silver and olive striped band.

Hannah was released from the frame and hustled to a full-length mirror.

"Oh, she's so cute," a maid cooed, and the others nodded and giggled in agreement.

Kinky schoolgirl, Hannah fumed, glaring at her reflection.  I'm a kinky schoolgirl.  The final touch, a navy-blue cape sporting the Silverberry Academy crest, was dropped over her shoulders and buttoned in front.  The make-up disguising her gag wouldn't fool anyone unless they were a few yards away, but it was a good match to her complexion.

And now she was being led... somewhere.  They were already upstairs, on the manor's ground floor.  Hannah and her escorts turned a corner, and she found herself in what was unmistakably the foyer of the main entrance.

Caroline and Jillian were waiting.

The Mistress of Silverberry was wearing a gray skirt and wasp-waisted jacket over a high-collared, white linen blouse with a narrow silk tie.  Her hair was up, as always, and she was wearing a broad-brimmed, rather busy hat.  Very Victorian or Edwardian or whatever, Hannah noted.  Big surprise.

The Mistress of Foxwood was similarly attired, only her outfit was a pale shade of olive—and as far as Hannah could tell, Jillian wasn't a prisoner in any way.  Not even a pair of loose cuffs graced her wrists.  Unless there was something hidden under her clothing, Jillian was free.  That makes one of us, Hannah fumed.

Jillian and Caroline were both making heroic efforts not to laugh.  Their pale-blue and green eyes gazed at Hannah, her blue eyes glared back, and finally, the elegant ladies could take it no more.  Both giggled like schoolgirls, as did the maids.

"Oh, Hannah," Jillian laughed, "I'm sorry, but you look adorable."

Hannah rolled her eyes.  Adorable.  If you weren't my boss (and I didn't love you) I'd show you 'adorable'.

"We have a classroom and student's dormitory in the east wing, you know," Caroline chuckled.  "One of several venues we haven't have a chance to explore during this visit."

Jillian raised an inquiring eyebrow.  "Other venues?"

"I've mentioned the pony-girl stables," Caroline purred, "and you haven't seen half of Patricia's laboratory facilities.  And then there's the sculpture garden."  She gazed at Hannah.  "Your Saxon Princess would make a magnificent Andromeda... nude, painted like marble from head to toe, and chained to a rock."

Jillian leaned close and kissed Hannah's cheek, just above her gag.  "That she would.  Maybe next time."

Hannah was looking from Jillian to Caroline as they donned tan and dove-gray dusters, respectively.  'This visit?'  'Next time?'

The maids opened the main doors, and Hannah beheld a limousine, pulled close to the entrance steps and waiting on the gravel drive.  It was appropriately antique, but she didn't recognize the make or model.  A blonde female stood at attention by the limo's back door, wearing black knee-boots, jodhpurs, a double-breasted coat, and a chauffeur's cap with goggles.

Caroline smiled and made a sweeping gesture towards the open entrance.

"Come, Hannah," Jillian said, placing an arm around her employee's waist and leading her forward.  "Time to go."

"Mwrr?" Hannah asked.

"That's right," Jillian chuckled, "we're going home."