TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2009		_
		Chapter 7

The Saxon Maiden Enslaved!
~ or ~
  
Damn it!  Enough already, Sydney!  Just do me!
   
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The Sorceress led her newly purchased Slave-Dancer across the Common Room and out a side door.

"The wind effects worked perfectly," Cody remarked.

"Yeah," Cricket agreed.  "Of course, they ought to have worked.  Connie and Hannah spent most of last Wednesday afternoon fiddling with the final positioning of the mini-fans."

Jillian turned and smiled at her Elven retainers.  "As a general principle, all that's required with special effects is to not insult the customer's suspension-of-disbelief.  Pilar was in such a, shall we say, suggestible state that any breeze at all would have been enough to trigger her imagination.  She probably thought she was in the middle of a whirlwind."

"Especially since it sounded like a whirlwind," Cricket giggled.

Cody reached over and slapped Hannah's left butt-cheek.  "Good job, Hannah," she purred.

Hannah swiveled her gagged head and glared at the grinning Wood-Elf.

Jillian chuckled, then clapped her hands.  "Okay, everyone.  Alice, get started with the cleanup."

The chained and bit-harness gagged Princess heaved a heartbreakingly pathetic sigh... and started clearing the tables.

"I'll help," Cody volunteered.

Jillian turned to Cricket.  "And as for you..."

The diminutive Elf was already heading for the stage steps.  "I know, rendezvous with the Scholar and get ready to tease, tickle, ravish, and roger Pilar 'til dawn.  It's a dirty rotten job..."

Jillian laughed, headed for the steps, herself, then for the Common Room's main exit, the most direct route to the guest wing.  "I'm going to check on the Earl and his new toy," she called back over her shoulder, apparently addressing the room in general.   "Good job, everyone!" she added, and then was gone.

Hannah was still chained and gagged, of course.  Uh... forgetting something? she thought, and tugged against her bonds... and was ignored.  Alice and Cody had finished loading trays with the dirty dishes and wiping down the tables, and were heading for the kitchen.  Ha, ha, very funny, Hannah fumed.  She could mewl and moan and rattle her chains, of course, but she knew that was what her "friends" wanted, for her to beg to be released.  She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.  Besides, they'd release her... eventually.  And where the hell is Sydney?  Syd didn't have an actual role in the scenario, and was supposed to be sharing the Roving Troubleshooter duties with Connie.  This made her the logical choice to be the Heroic Rescuer of Captive Number Three... so where the hell is she?

Hannah sighed through her gag.  Of course, leaving Captive Number Three hanging like a slab of meat on a hook for an extra hour or two was just the sort of thing the Evil Baroness would consider the height of hilarity.

Suddenly, a scraping noise sounded in the back of the room.  It was a chair being dragged back, and it was coming from somewhere in the deep shadows, off to the left of the bar.  One of the Common Room's tree trunk-sized support columns was half-blocking Hannah's view from her end of the stage, but now that she looked, she could see that someone was there, rising from a small table, someone in a long, dun-colored cloak with the hood thrown up.  The figure stepped fully into the light, but all Hannah could see was deep shadow under the hood, the closed cloak itself, and the toes of what was probably a pair of boots.

Hannah sighed, again.  Sydney, she thought, unless there's a complete stranger roaming the Keep.  It could be no one else.  And, of course, Hannah fumed, the Evil Baroness simply has to make her Dramatic Entrance.  And she has to turn it into a half-hour gloating scene, leaving me dangling up here while she—

Hannah's eyes popped wide—and a ripple of pure delight shivered through her sex.

The figure had opened her cape, removed it with a flourish, and tossed it aside—and it was Sydney—and she was HOT!!

Despite herself, despite her irritation at being generally used, abused, and abandoned (in Foxwood's typically playful Damsel-in-Distress manner), all Hannah could do was stare with open lust.  Oh god, she's sooo beautiful!  The ripple coursed through Hannah's sex—again—if it had ever stopped.

Sydney was more or less naked, the more being eighty or so percent of her lithe, strong, athletic body and freckled skin, and the less being a scale mail bikini, knee-length, brown riding boots, and matching, gauntlet-length gloves.  A sheathed dagger rode the outside of her right thigh, and a sheathed sword was on her left hip.  Even at this distance, Hannah recognized Blood-Drinker, Sydney's favorite longsword.  A coil of hemp rope dangled from her right glove.

Red Sonja! Hannah realized.  She's playing Red Sonja!  And she's PERFECT!!

"Sonja" slowly sauntered towards the stage, her hips swinging, seductively, and a sly, knowing smile curling her coral lips.  She was hot—and she knew it.  She mounted the steps, stopped in front of the Captive Saxon Maiden, and dropped the rope to the floor, where it landed with a loud thump.  She inspected the naked blonde's stretched, shackled body... from her wiggling toes to her fluttering fingers... then gazed into her blue (gorgeous blue) eyes.

Sydney just managed to suppress the urge to ravish Hannah, right there on the spot.  The Saxon Princess was an incredibly erotic sight.  Her smooth, tan skin... the perfect proportions of her strong body... her trim waist... her full, but at the moment slightly stretched breasts... her erect nipples... simply begging to be licked and nibbled upon...  Sydney carefully ignored the lust quivering through her metal-clad crotch.

Hannah knew she ought to be gazing back at "Sonja" with Brave Contempt and/or Spirited Disdain—but to hell with it!  We can role-play when there's someone paying Jillian for the privilege of watching us do it!  Right now, Hannah could care less about Red Sonja's intentions for the Captive Saxon Maiden.  All she wanted was for Sydney, her girlfriend, to get on with ravishing her senseless—so she could ravish her senseless—so they could do it again—and again—until sometime tomorrow, when Jillian and/or Kayley finally managed to pry them apart!

Sydney stepped behind Hannah and unbuckled her gag; first the strap of the plug-gag, and then the spider-gag.  She then returned to the front, and, once again, locked eyes with the blond captive.

Hannah could probably have managed to expel the plug from her mouth, maybe, but she didn't try.  She was too busy gazing into "Sonja's" blue-green eyes.

Finally, Sydney plucked the plug and ring from Hannah's mouth, tossed the gag aside, grabbed the captive's head in her gloved hands—and they kissed.

Kayley, famous for her wet, enthusiastic, lip-smacking and tongue-wrapping busses, would have been proud of this one.  She would have taken notes for future reference.

A minor eternity later, Sydney released Hannah's head and took a step back.

Hannah licked her lips, and smiled.  "Red Sonja, She-Devil with a Sword," she said in a husky, growling voice.

Sydney smiled and turned in a slow, graceful pirouette, letting Hannah drink in the full detail of her costume (what there was of it) from every angle.  "You like?  But maybe you better call me something else, like, I don't know, 'Scarlet Sydney'?  I might be able to carve my way through an army of berserking barbarians and hack up the occasional evil sorcerer... but copyright lawyers?"  She shook her head.  "Too dangerous!"

Hannah laughed.  "They should be paying you royalties.  Besides, people impersonate the She-Devil at conventions all the time.  As long as there isn't any money changing hands..."

Still smiling, Sydney reached up the gauntlet of her left glove and pulled out a small (very small) leather bag.  She gave it a shake, and the contents clinked together.  "And speaking of money."  She gave the bag another shake.  "Five gold vixens.  Consider yourself purchased."  She tossed the bag to the side, then strolled to the back wall and began turning the appropriate hand-crank, lowering Hannah's manacled wrists.

The "vixen" was the supposed currency of Foxwood.  Physically, they were brass or copper slugs that Cody had stamped with the Foxwood seal on one face and a holly leaf and the current year on the reverse.  They were distributed as souvenirs of the annual Foxwood Yule Festival, and were especially prized by the kids.  "Five vixens?" Hannah demanded.  "I should be worth a lot more that five vixens."

"That remains to be seen," Sydney responded.  "Knees," she ordered.

Still smiling, Hannah settled to her knees on the hardwood stage.  Her ankles were still locked in shackles and separated by an eighteen-inch, iron spreader-bar, and her manacled wrists still dangled from their chain; but now they were at the level of her waist.  She sighed as Sydney picked up the rope, released the coil, and took a turn around her upper body, pinning her arms to her torso.  "I suppose it would be too much to ask for us to simply walk back to your room and get down to business," she huffed.

"Sonja has purchased you to be her pack-thrall," Sydney explained, "to haul the fifty or sixty pounds of supplies she'll need to journey past the Shield Wall, across Hyborea, and into the frozen steppes, beyond.  She's only just met you, so you can't be trusted.  She has no choice but to keep you tied up."

Hannah snorted in disgust.  "Of course."  Sydney was using her favorite box-tie technique, taking her time and making sure the bands and hitches of hemp were neat, flat, and tight.  Hannah's wrists were released from the manacles, then folded behind her back and lashed to the other ropes.  "Hold on," Hannah objected.  "I've read enough of the Red Sonja comics to know she doesn't have a sidekick, and her companions seldom make it to the end of an issue, much less the end of a multi-issue story, much less into the next multi-issue story."

"That's why you're only worth five vixens," Sydney chuckled.  "Lady Foxwood knows I'm not gonna pay top rate for a piece of expendable blond fluff.  Between the dire wolves, snow tigers, and vorpal lemmings, the odds of you making it even halfway to the haunted ruins of the Golden Temple of Fill-in-the-Blank are pretty slim."

"Funny," Hannah huffed.  "I'm a Saxon Princess, you know.  Give me an ax and—Mrmf!

The Princess had been silenced by her new owner's lips and tongue.  It was another Worthy-of-Kayley-Kiss, this time, with Hannah bound and on her knees and Sydney gripping her braids in her gloved hands.

Alice emerged from the kitchen, clinking and clattering in her serving chains, with a wooden tray under her right arm.  She'd come to clear the dishes and wipe down Sydney's table, the last remaining task in the Common Room before tomorrow's breakfast.

The Saxon and Sonja had heard the tinkling music of the little redhead's arrival.  Still lip-locked, they opened their eyes and watched the bit-bridled Captive Princess pause, roll her eyes, shake her head, and then resume her shuffling journey to Sydney's former position in the back of the room.

Hannah and Sydney broke their kiss... and smiled.

"I think she's telling us to 'get a room'," Hannah purred.

"For once," Sydney responded, "I agree with the little twerp."  She knelt behind Hannah and began unlocking her shackles.

Currently, it was round number three of Red Sonja and her newly purchased pack-thrall getting "better acquainted" on the bed of Sonja's guest room.

Round one had consisted of the Saxon exploring the glistening folds of her owner's sex with her lips and tongue.  This had taken some time, and had culminated in the red-haired amazon nearly crushing the Saxon's head between her naked thighs (like the proverbial melon) and screaming loud enough to rattle the iron rings dangling from the bedroom's rafters.

In round two, Sonja had returned the favor.  The box-tied blonde had been on her knees with the She-Devil on her back, clutching the Saxon's butt-cheeks, and enthusiastically sucking, nibbling, and probing the thrall's sex.  This time, the resulting orgasm had resulted in a silent scream, with the Saxon's head thrown back and her beautiful, tan features frozen in a rictus of ecstasy.

This round was a bout of mutual tongue lashing, with the Saxon on her back (and bound arms) and Sonja sprawled across her sweat-slick body.  Breasts squashed against their partner's tummy and heads between their thighs, tan skin slid against pale, freckled skin as their tongues slurped and probed.  This continued for some time, and finally, with clenched muscles and strangled, flesh-muffled screams, they came... again.

Panting and glistening with sweat, Sydney lifted herself off Hannah's body, flipped herself around, and lay back against the pillows piled against the headboard.  She helped Hannah writhe and wiggle up the bed until she was against her side, put an arm across the grinning blonde's rope-yoked shoulders to hug her close, and they kissed.

Finally, they came up for air.  "I love it when that happens," Hannah purred.

"The timing?" Sydney chuckled.

"Yeah," Hannah confirmed, "it's like ringing some sort of cosmic bell."  She lay her head against Sydney's shoulder.  "Let's take a break, okay?"

"Wimp!" Sydney accused.

"Hey!" Hannah objected.  "I'm not the one who just enjoyed Kayley's roast beef and asparagus with hollandaise.  I haven't had anything to eat since lunch."

"How do you know what I had for supper?" Sydney demanded.

"I flossed your teeth with my tongue," Hannah explained, "remember?"

"Oh, that's what you were doing," Sydney chuckled.

Hannah smiled and closed her eyes.  "Uh... later... can we sneak down to the kitchen?  I really am starving."

"Hold that thought," Sydney chuckled, heaved herself to the side, leaned down, and retrieved a wicker basket from under the bedside table.

She lifted the basket's cover and Hannah could see that the interior was divided into two parts.  The left was half-filled with crushed ice and contained two brown bottles with wire-caged, cork stoppers.  The right was lined with multiple layers of linen cloth.  Sydney unfolded the cloth, produced a parchment packet, and Hannah's nostrils flared and her mouth began to water.  "Oh wow!" she gasped.  "Is that what I think it is?"

Sydney smiled and folded back the parchment... revealing about a half-pound of thin-sliced, juicy pastrami, between two slices of rye bread... and it was Kayley's brine-cured, perfectly seasoned, and slow-roasted pastrami!

Hannah swallowed and beamed at Sydney.  "I love you!" she sighed, leaned forward, and took a huge bite.  "Ymmm!"

"I love you, too," Sydney chuckled, set the still half-wrapped sandwich on her chest, and popped the top on one of the bottles.  "Brown ale," she announced, as she held the bottle for Hannah to take a swig.  "You owe Kay-bear for this," she explained.  "I told her how much you like pastrami on rye, nice and greasy and not too lean, with stone-ground mustard, so she insisted."

"I'll find a way to make it up to her," Hannah purred, and eyed the sandwich.

Sydney chuckled, set the bottle down on the bedside table, and held the sandwich for Hannah to take another bite.  "You're getting grease all over your mouth and chin," she chided.

Hannah chewed and swallowed.  "Sorry."

"Not to worry," Sydney chuckled.  "I'll lick it all off, later."

Jillian entered the kitchen to find Alice perched on a stool and leaning forward on the worktable.  Her head was resting on her shackled hands and she appeared to be fast asleep.  After apprehending the diminutive Captive Princess in the act of peeping on Ashley and Mitch, Jillian had led her back to the kitchen.  She'd removed her bit-bridle gag, but had left her in her working chains and ordered her to finish the cleanup and prep for breakfast.  In addition, she'd made it clear that under no circumstances was Alice to leave the kitchen until she returned from her rounds.

Jillian smiled.  Her young cousin's grubby, freckled, pixie face was the epitome of cuteness... especially like this, relaxed in slumber, with strands of her copper-red curls draped across her serene features.

Alice opened her eyes, sat up, and stretched, to the extent allowed by her chains, with a huge yawn.  "Ahhh!  Everything okay?" she asked.

"Everything's perfect," Jillian answered.  "Mitch and Ashley are still at it, Pilar was in the middle of a visit from the Tickle Bird when I left—"

"I hate the Tickle Bird," Alice interrupted, with a delicate shudder.

"Liar," Jillian chuckled.  "And finally, Red Sonja was feeding her new thrall a pastrami sandwich."

Alice sighed.  "And poor Princess Alice is left to toil into the wee hours, all by her lonesome."

Jillian smiled.  "And speaking of toil, I have one more task for you to perform."

"It figures," Alice huffed, then stood.

Jillian stepped forward, unlocked and removed Alice's chains, then pulled her tattered, burlap frock over her head.

Naked, but for her iron thrall's collar and the chastity belt girding her loins, Alice stretched and yawned, again—and this time it was a full-blown, back-arching, reach-for-the-sky, and chain-free stretch.

"Clean yourself up," Jillian said.

"Right away, Your Magnificence," Alice muttered, and padded into the laundry room.  It only took her a couple of minutes for her to give herself a sponge bath.  Most of the "dirt and grime" smudging her body had been more theatrical than real.

Refreshed, but with hair still a tousled mess, Alice returned to the kitchen—and skidded to a stop.

Jillian had spread some leather items on the worktable: a pair of bondage mittens, and a "muff-binder", a leather tube that closed with three buckles and had two additional, horizontal straps.

"Let me guess," Alice pouted, "Not only do I not get this thing unlocked— "  She indicated her chastity belt with a dainty, two-handed gesture.  "—but Evil Lady Jillian has decided to come out and play."

Jillian picked up one of the mittens.  "Have you ever considered how cute you'd look with your nipples pierced?" she inquired.

"Yep, Evil Lady Jillian," Alice sighed, stepped forward, presented her right hand, and formed a closed fist.  "Like we told you, either Cricket and I get our nips ventilated together, or it's a no go."

"I'll ask Connie to come up with an appropriate scenario," Jillian chuckled, tugged the mitten over Alice's hand, and started tightening its laces.

"Ask her to come up with something where she gets tit-rings, too," Alice huffed.  From her manner, it was clear that either she thought Jillian was teasing, or the prospect of a ceremonial nipple piercing wasn't all that disturbing.

In short order, both of Alice's fists were encased in tight sheaths of brown leather, her arms were folded behind her back, and the muff-binder was buckled around her forearms.  Finally, Jillian tightened the binder's horizontal straps around Alice's biceps, locking her into what amounted to a leather box-tie.

Alice sighed.  "Uh... should I be making dire threats about the horrible things my mother, The Queen, is going to do to you when she learns how you've been mistreating her darling Princess?"

"Don't bother," Jillian chuckled.  "There.  All ready."

Alice flexed her shoulders and bound arms then faced Jillian and batted her gorgeous, blue-green eyes.  "Ready for what?" she inquired.

The pathetic Princess' only answer was the truly evil smile on Her Ladyship's face.  Jillian grabbed a handful of Alice's red curls and dragged her towards the side door, the Kitchen's direct access to the Resident's Wing. They made their way to Jillian's room, at the far end of the of the corridor. There was a pause while Jillian unlocked the door, then she ushered Alice inside.

Alice's eyes popped wide, and she stared in open wonder. "Wow!"

Jillian owned a wooden trunk.  Its sides were ornately carved with foxes leaping through hoops of ribbons intertwined in elaborate Celtic knots, and it had a padded seat, making it as much a bench as a place of storage.  Alice was quite familiar with this particular piece of furniture, and had often admired its perfect proportions and exquisite craftsmanship.  The trunk was not what was making her stare.

The trunk had been dragged to the center of the room, and Cody Archer—a very naked and hogtied Cody Archer—was precariously perched on her stomach atop its padded surface—and it was a very stringent hogtie.

"I hate it when you do that," Alice whispered.

"Liar," Jillian whispered back, then leaned close and kissed the top of Alice's head.

Cody's ankles were crossed and lashed to her wrists.  Her elbows were bound together, and her waist was cinched and lashed to the trunk.  Her splayed knees were also lashed to the trunk, pinning her fully-exposed crotch at the edge of the padding.  Her long, brown hair, with the exception of the narrow, decorative braids framing her grimacing face, had been gathered into a folded snarl, lashed to one end of a rope, that rope tied to the wrist-ankle junction, and then up to an iron ring in the timber rafter, directly overhead.  This pulled her head back and chin up, and arched her spine as if she were a strung bow.  Only her tummy was in contact with the trunk's padding.  Finally, one of Foxwood's larger "medieval ball-gags" filled her mouth to capacity.  Its two-inch sphere of modern rubber was hidden under a tight layer of thin chamois, and its strap was buckled tight enough to dimple her flushed cheeks.

Alice shuddered in sympathy (and suppressed the urge to break into a gloating grin).  "So... this is how you instill loyalty in your retainers?" she asked Jillian.

"Oh, no," Jillian chuckled.  "This is a Drowish meditation technique.  Even the Wood-Elves use it, on occasion.  I was simply kind enough to assist."

"Yeah, very kind," Alice muttered.

Cody's pointed, elf-ear attachments were still glued in place.  Her pale, blue eyes gazed up at Her Ladyship and the Captive Princess with sad suffering.  Her toned, perfectly conditioned body glistened with sweat.  Thanks to the vertical rope enforcing the back-arching bow of her predicament, her full breasts, which would otherwise have been squashed into the seat's padding, were only half-squashed.

Jillian leaned close and whispered in Alice's ear.  "You don't think Cody agreed to help us with this scenario for nothing, do you?  She's collecting her fee."

"Gimme a break," Alice snorted.  "You expect me to believe she asked for one of Evil Lady Jillian's eight-hours-of-hell sessions?"

Jillian laughed.  "This might not be quite what she had in mind, but she's been doing such a bang-up job... I thought I'd give her a bonus."

This time Alice laughed.  "Now you know the reason I'm such a slacker.  I'd rather take your punishments than enjoy one of your 'bonuses'."

Jillian smiled.  "You've never had a chance to play with Cody, have you?"

"Not really play," Alice agreed.  She turned her head and smiled up at her older cousin.  "Really?"  She nodded at Cody's hog-tied form.  "For me?  She's for me?"

"Until dawn," Jillian chuckled.  "I still have to roam around and keep an eye on things."

"No rest for the wicked," Alice purred.  Her eyes had returned to Cody, who was staring back.  Alice knew they had been speaking softly enough that the "meditating elf" could probably hear their voices, but at this distance there was no way she'd been able to follow their conversation.  "She looks scared," the little redhead whispered.

"Wouldn't you be?" Jillian whispered back.

Alice nodded, then twisted and struggled against her bonds.  "I can't do much like this," she huffed, favoring Jillian with a sad pout.

Jillian smiled and led her young cousin to the neatly made bed.  "You're nothing, if not inventive," she purred.  A large silk scarf was spread across the foot of the bed.  Jillian grabbed one corner and pulled it away with a flourish, revealing:

1. A long, stiff feather, with the last few inches of its quill embedded in a thick plug of soft leather;
2. A Wartenburg pinwheel, a spur-like disk of needle-sharp points freely spinning on a seven-inch handle.  The handle's base was wrapped in leather;
3. A leather dildo.  The business end was oiled and glistening, and the other end terminated in a molded mouthpiece. 
   

Clearly, all three items were designed to allow a potential user, Alice, to take a comfortable grip with her lips and clenched teeth.  "I still think I could do better if you let me out of this thing," the Princess complained, twisting her shoulders and straining against the muff-binder's bicep straps.

"Consider yourself lucky," Jillian chuckled.  "I could just strap a double penis-gag in your pouty little mouth and nipple-clamp you to the crotch-end of the trunk."

"Yeah," Alice sighed.  "I'm crazy lucky."

Jillian kissed her cousin's lips, then whispered in her ear, as she had before.  "You'll note the rope to the ceiling is secured with a slip-knot.  I purposely tied it low enough for you to be able to grab the free end with your teeth, if you decide you need to relax Cody's position."

Alice gazed at Cody's bowed, sweating body, and nodded.  "Don't worry," she whispered.  "I'll take care of her."

Jillian kissed Alice, again, then walked over to Cody and knelt before her grimacing face.  She gazed into her friend's pale blue eyes... then leaned close and kissed her gagged lips.  "More than you bargained for, my sweet?" she purred, and kissed Cody's sweat-slick forehead.  "Don't worry.  You're going to have plenty of time to become accustomed to the embrace of my ropes.  Everybody gets to sleep late tomorrow."

Cody squirmed and moaned through her gag.  The hogtie was more than she'd bargained for, but she could take it.  Of course, if or when she decided she couldn't take it, all she had to do was hum a tune through her gag and she'd be untied... although, once Jillian left to continue her rounds, exactly how a mitten and muff-binder bound Alice was supposed to be able to untie her wasn't entirely clear.

Jillian rose to her feet—graceful, as always—and walked to the door.  "Don't make a mess of my room," she admonished, "or somebody will get punished."

"I'd hate for that to happen," Alice muttered.

 Jillian stepped across the threshold and pulled the door closed.

Alice and Cody listened to the key turn in the lock... and then they were alone.

Alice walked to the head of the trunk and knelt, as Her Ladyship had just done, and smiled at her fellow captive.  "I've never helped a Wood-Elf meditate," she said.  "What shall we do?"  She leaned close and kissed the tip of Cody's nose.  "How 'bout I kiss my way down your body, licking some of that delicious, salty sweat from your skin, nibble your toes, then do a little spelunking between your legs?"  She kissed Cody's forehead.  "Then, we can play with some of Her Ladyship's toys.  Sound good?"

Cody squirmed in the tight ropes embracing her body, forced a pathetic moan past her gag, wiggled her toes, flexed her fingers, and blinked her eyes... which was about the full extent of everything she could do (short of hum a safe-word song).

Princess Alice's smile turned truly evil, as evil as any smile that had ever graced the perfect face of the Evil Baroness Sydney or the Evil Lady Jillian.  "I'll take that as a 'yes'," she purred, and licked her lips.