TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2009		_
		Chapter 8

Meanwhile, in the Earl’s Bedchamber...
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Lord Carleton and his newly-purchased pleasure-thrall had moved from the guest suite's "pleasure rack" to the comfortable expanse of its large (and historically incorrect) bed.

During the change, His Lordship had left the Captive Mercenary's hands laced and locked in the leather bondage mitts with their integrated iron wrist-cuffs, and had added a "bra-harness" he selected from the tangle of straps, binders, and coils of rope festooning the pleasure rack's lower frame.  It consisted of a pair of straps that framed Ashley's breasts—with one strap encircling only her torso and the other her torso and upper arms—and a pair of shoulder straps.  There were convenient attachment points behind her back for the wrist-cuffs and the rings at the tip of each mitt.  Ashley was now inescapably bound in a loose reverse-prayer, with her encased hands and manacled wrists pinned against her back.

The Earl had also removed his pleasure-thrall's plug and spider-gags, but the Degenerate Cad immediately replaced them with a tight cleave-gag, in the form of his former loincloth with a knot tied in the center.

Ashley had struggled and cursed during all of these changes, of course, but His Lordship was cunning enough to do everything in stages, giving himself every advantage in the decidedly unfair wrestling match.  The Brave Captive's efforts were for naught.  Ashley the Amazon remained in a state of Righteous Rage, her heart and mind's sole focus the Heroic Escape and the Unspeakable Revenge she would wreak on the Evil Earl, Lady Foxwood, Her Ladyship's retainers, and anyone else unfortunate enough to cross her path immediately after said Heroic Escape.  Okay, if she stumbled across the Saxon hottie with the blond braids she'd probably rescue her (among other things), but everyone else in the Keep was toast!  The Enslaved Warrior was supremely pissed off!

(Ashley Carleton, on the other hand—CFO of GORT Inc., Mitch's loving wife, and paying customer of the Foxwood B&B—was having the time of her life!)

Lord Carleton was currently reclined on his back, with his head and shoulders comfortably cushioned by the pillows piled against the headboard.  Ashley was astride his hips and impaled on his erect penis.  They were both soaked in sweat and rocking in unison as Mitch thrust into Ashley's very well-lubricated sex, his face set in a grimace of concentration (and pleasure).  His hands clutched Ashley's leather-framed, bulging breasts, with her rock-hard nipples pinched between His Lordship's thumbs and forefingers.

Finally, after an eternity of increasingly frantic effort—Ashley threw her head back, her eyes popped wide, and she screamed through her gag—and came.  Close enough to qualify as "simultaneously" (to all but the East German judge)—Mitch came, as well.

Mitch helped his precious prisoner lift herself off his body, and she flopped down onto the bed and rolled against his side.  He reached over to the bedside table and poured wine from an insulated carafe into a pewter goblet, then pulled Ashley's gag from her mouth and helped her drink.

Her thirst slaked, for the moment, Ashley smiled into her husband's grinning face.  "You insufferable bastard!" she growled.  Mitch smiled back, and they kissed.

Eventually, they came up for air.  Mitch put his arm over Ashley's shoulders and they snuggled close.

"Why'd you have to gag me again?" Ashley demanded.  The Angry Amazon might be on hold, for the moment, but that didn't mean she couldn't give her husband some grief.

Mitch chuckled.  "From now on, I'm thinking of gagging you every time we sweat the sheets."

Ashley gasped in outrage.  "What?"

"When you get religion," Mitch explained, "it can damage the eardrums."

"Religion?" Ashley demanded.

Mitch smiled.  "'Oh god!  Oh god!  Oh god, Mitch!'," he clarified, in a breathless, soprano falsetto.

Ashley laughed and rocked her hip against her Evil Ravisher.  "Bastard," she chuckled.

"We should hold the next GORT Corporate Retreat in this place," Mitch suggested.

"Two days of lectures, pep-talks, and breakout sessions with everyone running around in Medieval costume?  That would get old, fast," Ashley objected, "and I doubt if Her Ladyship would allow us to bring the usual laptops and smart white-boards."

"Yes," Mitch agreed, "but imagine Laura in a tattered thrall's costume and chains, waiting on Lady Carleton's every whim.  I've always imagined you making her walk around your inner office in bondage, à la Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary."

Ashley smiled.  Laura, her twenty-something Executive Assistant, could pull off a reenactment of the infamous collar, cuffs, and spreader-bar scene with ease.  Put her in a flouncy white blouse, black pencil skirt, stockings, and black "fuck-me pumps", and with her slim figure, dimpled features, and silky brown hair cut in its customary retro-bob... it would be a snap.  But there was a huge fly in the ointment: Laura Hunt was nobody's Bottom.  "I've had similar thoughts about Mrs. Klingpeel," Ashley purred.

"Oh please!" Mitch shuddered.  Mrs. Klingpeel was his fifty-something Secretary.  (No newfangled titles like "Executive Assistant" for Dora Klingpeel!)  She was supremely competent, to the point that Mitch sometimes wondered which of them had the greater role in the success of the company—but to say that she was not Mitch's type was an understatement of truly epic proportions.  "Thanks a lot," he muttered, poured a refill into the goblet, and gulped half the contents.  "It's gonna take a hogshead of mead to get that image out of my head."  He held the goblet for his bound wife.

Ashley chuckled and drained the remaining wine.  "Speaking of work," she said, snuggling her head against Mitch's shoulder, "the rough draft of the quarterly projections was just about ready when I left the office.  If you smuggled your iPhone past Her Ladyship, we could—M'mmpfh!"

The Earl had a hand clamped over Ashley's mouth.  "Do you want your gag back?" he inquired, matter-of-factly, and released the Captive Warrior's lips.

"Okay," Ashley chuckled.  "I'll be good."  Her lips curled in a coy smile, she rocked against His Lordship's hip, again.  "And speaking of good... what do you want to try next?"

"God, woman!" Mitch sighed, "give it a rest."

Ashley lifted her head, and her smile broadened.  "Ohhh..." she cooed.  "Is 'Little Mitch' all tuckered out?"

"'Little Mitch' is thinking we might be approaching that four hour limit they warn about in the Viagra commercials," Mitch chuckled.  He stretched and yawned... then hugged Ashley's sweat-slick body and kissed her cheek.  "Give it a rest.  Give him a rest."

Ashley sighed, again (in contentment and not disappointment), kissed her husband's cheek, and lay her head back down.

Seconds passed.

"I could use a little more of that wine," Ashley suggested in a whisper.  Mitch didn't respond, so Ashley lifted her head.  "Mitch?  Your Lordship?"  The Earl of Gort was asleep.  Ashley smiled and let her head drop—gently—and closed her eyes, again.  She wasn't that thirsty.

Ashley opened her eyes to find herself alone in bed.

The sun was up.  She sat up and gazed out the guest suite's bank of windows at the forested slopes of the valley below.  From the angle of the shadows, she guessed it was somewhere in the neighborhood of mid-morning.  The mitten-cuffs and bra-harness were still squeezing her tits, pinning her arms, and trapping her encased hands behind her back, and her hair was a mess.  She blew a few errant strands from her face, then frowned in irritation when they settled back in tousled disarray.  She yawned and flopped back down on the warm bed.

Just then, the "medieval commode" flushed, the washroom door opened, and Mitch emerged.  He was tightening the sash of a silk robe and was grinning like... an Evil Earl who had ravished a Captive She-Warrior every which-way imaginable through most of the previous hours of darkness.

"Smug bastard!" Ashley accused in a husky whisper.  She extricated herself from the tangled sheets, stood, and headed for the washroom.

His Lordship grabbed her on the way by, pulled her into a tight embrace, and they kissed.  "How does a bath sound?" he inquired when they came up for air.

"At the moment," Ashley chuckled, "like an absolute necessity."

"Agreed," Mitch purred.  "Finish your business and we'll head for Jillian's Roman Bath."

Ashley flexed her bound arms and twisted her upper body.  "That would be easier if you let me out of all this."

Mitch's smile redefined smug.  "And what would be the fun in that?  Don't worry, I'll be in to help with the wiping and the flushing."

The Captive Amazon managed to break away from the Evil Earl's embrace.  "Bastard," she chuckled, and disappeared into the washroom.

Lady Carleton is Coming!
{...with an "o" ...not a "u".}
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The couple made their way to the Roman Bath's changing room.  Mitch was still in his silk robe, and Ashley was still a naked, leather-bound captive.  Mitch had accessorized her "costume" with the knotted loin-cloth gag she had worn during the later part of the previous night's festivities; however, it was dangling around her neck like a bandanna, rather than cleaving her mouth.   "I want this thing ready for use if you start mouthing off," His Lordship had explained.

Ashley had weathered Mitch's "threat" with amused tolerance.  Neither of them was especially anxious to resume their role-playing in earnest, but Ashley knew her Evil Captor could no more put a stop to his teasing than he could stop being so devilishly handsome.

They entered the changing room to discover it already occupied by Kayley and Pilar.  It was obvious that the pair had already bathed.

The Green Witch of the Dell was gone, and in her place was Mistress Kayley, the Keep's Master Cook and Gardener.  She was changing into one of her Prosperous Peasant costumes, with its long, full skirt, stockings, slipper boots, loose, low-cut blouse of white linen, and waist-cinching bodice.  She had just finished knotting an apron behind her back, and the customary warm smile curled her lips.

Pilar was naked and clean, including her tousled and still slightly damp hair.  Her wrists were crossed behind her back and tightly bound with a thong of brown, well-oiled leather.  "Good morning," the captive purred, smiling at Ashley.

"Morning," Ashley responded, stepping forward and kissing her friend's lips.  She then turned to Kayley.  "Good mor—Ngfh!"

Kayley had Ashley's head in both hands and was kissing her lips (and possibly her tonsils) with her usual enthusiasm.  She finally released Ashley and took a step back.  "Good morrow, Mistress," she purred, curtsied, and stepped in front of The Earl, went up her toes, and gave him a Kayley-Kiss.  "Take care of them," she told His Lordship when it was over, and headed for the door to the main Keep.  "Brunch will be ready in a few minutes," she added, and was gone.

Lord Carleton turned and gazed at the Captive Warrior and Enslaved Dancer.  "'Take care of them'," he quoted, shaking his head.  "Apparently, this is a working vacation."  He smiled at Pilar.  "Having fun, Pillie?" he inquired.

Her lips curled in a haughty smile, Pilar gazed at Mitch with disdain (which she managed quite easily, despite her nudity and bondage).  "I am not speaking to you," she intoned.

"What did I do?" Mitch demanded, with exaggerated innocence.

"Aside from feeling me up like a melon at the produce market?" Pilar demanded.  "And with me bound and gagged and naked and unable to stop you?"

"It was the sort of thing the Earl of Gort would do," Mitch explained, turning to Ashley for support.

"Don't look at me," Ashley huffed.  "The first chance Pillie and I get we're gonna kick your butt."

"Damn straight!" Pilar agreed.  "And the blonde with the braids.  We'll let her help."

Ashley turned to her fellow captive.  "Oooo!  Isn't she the cutest thing?"

"Oh yes!" Pilar agreed.  "I could just eat her up."

"Maybe later," Ashley purred, and the friends giggled.

Mitch rolled his eyes.  "I am not buying you a Saxon Handmaiden," he said.  "This trip has already blown the entertainment budget for the rest of the year."  He stepped behind his wife and began releasing her bonds.

Ashley blinked in surprise.  "Uh... what are you doing?"

"Lady Carleton will be arriving any second now," Mitch explained, "so... either I lock Ashley-the-Amazing-Amazon in one of Lady Foxwood's dungeons..."  He finished the task at hand, tossed away the mitts and harness, and smiled.  "Or, you become Her Ladyship.  Your choice."

"I'd go with the later," Pilar chuckled, then affected a worried frown, "although the Earl's wife does have a reputation for being a cruel bitch."

Ashley untied the loose gag from around her neck and tossed it away, then struck an elegant pose.  "I'm a little under-dressed," she purred, batting her eyes at her grinning spouse.

"And a little ripe," Mitch chuckled, wrinkling his nose.  "Not to worry."  He nodded at the bank of lockers.  "Lady Foxwood and I have made arrangements."  He gestured towards the doors to the main bath.  "Your ablution awaits, Milady."

Ashley smiled and favored her husband with a naked curtsy.  "It's nice to be doted upon."

"Especially by a filthy-rich Earl," Pilar huffed, then wrinkled her nose, "even a filthy filthy-rich Earl."  Then, her smile broadened.  "Oh, you just have to see this!  C'mon!"  She turned and headed for the doors.  "I'll go back into the Bath with you."

Mitch and Ashley exchanged smiles as Mitch removed his robe and they hurried after her.  "Of course you're coming with us, Pillie," Mitch teased.  "You're my prisoner."

"I am Lady Carleton's prisoner," Pilar huffed.  "I'm not speaking to you, remember?"

"Allow me," Mitch chuckled, and opened the outer door of the "air lock".  Ashley and Pilar entered, Ashley opened the inner door, and the trio entered the Roman Bath.

They were instantly engulfed by a wall of warm, humid air, and blinked in reaction to the shafts of bright light streaming through the row of windows along the top of the South wall.  The water of the main pool was as still as glass, and the only sound was a quiet, echoing drip-drip-drip from somewhere in the cleaning alcove.

Pilar nodded towards the lounging area and padded in that direction.  Mitch and Ashley followed, and found that all the pillows and seat cushions had been piled together, and a nude Jillian Foxwood was asleep on this soft nest, sprawled on her back and in the center of the tangled limbs and nude bodies of Cricket, Alice, Connie, and Cody, who were also asleep.  Only Princess Alice was in any way "dressed".  Her chastity belt was gone, but the iron collar, the symbol of the Cruel Servitude of her current stint as Kayley's helper, was still locked around her slender throat.

Mitch, Ashley, and Pilar gazed down at the somnolent tableau.  It was like an Orientalist painter's fantasy of some Sultan's harem sprung to life... snoozy, tranquil, succulently erotic life.

"Like a litter of sleeping kittens," Pilar whispered, and her fellow guests smiled and nodded in agreement.

Jillian opened her eyes, smiled, and slowly placed her right index finger to her lips.  The motion, as carefully minimal as it had been, caused a cascade of squirming, stretching, and yawning to ripple through the pile of "kittens", but only Jillian appeared to be awake.  "Kayley should have brunch ready at any time," Her Ladyship whispered.

Ashley nodded.  "We know," she whispered back, then pointed to the cleaning alcove at the far end of the pool and placed a finger to her own lips.

Jillian smiled, nodded, and stretched—causing more comfort movements to ripple through the tangle of sleepers.

The guests backed away, turned, and padded to the cleaning alcove.

"I hope I look that good in twenty years," Pilar whispered.

"Me too," Ashley sighed.

"Dyeing your hair red shouldn't be a problem," Mitch said, with a grin, "but I don't know about the freckles."

"Shut up, Mitch," Ashley chuckled.

"And I'm still not speaking to you," Pilar huffed.  When they reached the cleaning alcove, she sat on a convenient bench against the far wall and watched Mitch and Ashley rinse under the shower, then soap and scrub each other's bodies.  She idly twisted her wrists, testing her inescapabe bonds... and smiled.  They are so lucky to have found each other, she thought, not for the first time, and I am lucky to be their friend.  Her smile faded and her expression became more thoughtful.  I wonder where Sydney and that blonde are? she wondered.

The Saxon Rescued... NOT!!
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"Seriously?" Hannah demanded.  "Jillian says she doesn't need us for the rest of the week?"

"Her exact words," Sydney confirmed, "more or less."

Hannah was still naked, box-tied with hemp rope, and sprawled on the rumpled bed.  Sydney had just taken her to use the "Little Saxon Maiden's Room" and now she was watching her Cruel Captor dress in her Red Sonja costume.  "Well, which is it?  Her exact words, or not?"

"Okay," Sydney chuckled, pulling on her boots, "she said everybody could sleep late and we'd probably all be taking the rest of the day off."

"'Probably'," Hannah quoted.  "That's hardly permission to make everyone else do all the work.  We still have guests in residence."

Sydney buckled on her weaponry.  Her transition into the She Devil with a Sword complete, she opened her chest of drawers, pulled out a cloth, and began folding it into a narrow bandage.  "Your opinion is duly noted," she purred, as she tied a knot in the cloth's center, "and ignored."  She walked to the bed with the cloth between her gloved hands.

Hannah frowned at the knot approaching her mouth.  "This is on your head," she huffed, but opened her mouth and allowed herself to be gagged without resistance.

Sydney lifted her bound and now gagged girlfriend off the bed and to her feet, and embraced her from behind.  "I know we're both pretty ripe," she purred, "but we're supposed to be smelly barbarians, by modern standards.  Besides..."  Her gloved hands wandered over Hannah's breasts and stomach.  "I like the way you smell after a night of hot sex."

Hannah harrumphed through her gag, but managed to suppress her true feelings.  She could not, however, suppress the shiver of pleasure rippling through her sex as Sydney's gloved hand caressed her labia.

Sydney released her captive, walked to her wardrobe, opened its double doors, and lifted a large bundle of hemp rope off a hook.  She released the coil and tied a slipknot in one end to make a noose.  This was snugged around Hannah's throat and Sydney coiled the rest of the rope and headed for the door.  "Let's find you someplace where you won't be disturbed," she purred.

The rope lead snapped taut and Hannah followed her captor into the hallway.  It's her damn smugness I hate the most, Hannah fumed (but she knew it wasn't true).

Immured in the Dungeon!
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Sonja led her newly-purchased Saxon Thrall to the Stone Tower and down the stairs to the lowest level.  She unlocked a cell, the chamber with five sets of "languishing chains" attached to one wall.  It was a bleak space, with straw scattered on the floor and lit only by a pair of dimly flickering Drowish Globes set in small alcoves high on the wall opposite the chains. 

Sydney turned and smiled at her captive.

Gag issues aside, Hannah did not smile back.  In fact, she glared at her girlfriend.  Locking me in the dungeon?  That's just being mean!  That's being... Sydney.  Hannah sighed and stomped into the cell.  Granted, it's difficult to "stomp" on a stone floor with your bare feet, but she managed to communicate her irritation.

Sydney followed her inside and began kicking all the straw into a single large pile against the center of the wall with the dangling chains.  Once this was accomplished, she indicated the resulting heap with an elegant bow.  "Milady's bed awaits," she said.

Still glaring, Hannah sat on the straw.  She watched as Sydney untied her hemp leash and used the rope to bind her ankles and knees together.  The remaining rope was used to give her a tight crotch-rope—with the obligatory string of knots nestled between her labia, of course—and then was tied off to her box-tie bindings, well-away from her fluttering fingers.  A preliminary squirm confirmed that any struggling against her bonds would cause the crotch rope's knots to slide against her most intimate anatomy.  Sydney had done her usual expert job of rendering her completely helpless—with style.

Sydney then reached under the straw and pulled out the collar of the center set of chains.  This was locked around Hannah's throat, and then the grinning redhead stood, crossed her arms under her scale mail-clad breasts, and gazed down at Hannah's prostrate, tan, fit, well-roped, well-gagged, and iron-collared body.  "I know who you are... Princess," she announced.

Hannah shook her gagged head to straighten her braids, and stared at her captor.  God, she looks so sexy like that, she thought, forgetting to be either Brave or Defiant.

"I haven't decided whether to keep you, sell you back to your father, or maybe hold an auction among his rivals," Sydney continued, then chuckled.  "One thing's for sure.  At only five gold vixens, you were a real bargain."  She knelt, took Hannah's head in her hands, kissed her gagged lips, then broke the kiss and smiled.  "Maybe I'll take you across the Great Desert, to one of the Nomads' slave compounds.  They're always in the market for blondes."  She used one hand to toy with Hannah's left nipple.  "It's Nomad practice to pierce the nipples of pleasure-slaves..."  She gently tweaked Hannah's nose.  "And the nose..."  Her gloved hand trailed down Hannah's bound torso and tugged on her crotch-rope.  "And other places."

Hannah shivered in her bonds.  She's so cruel, she thought, reveling in the fantasy.  I love her so!

Sydney kissed Hannah's lips, again, then stood and walked to the door.  She crossed the threshold, closed the heavy, iron-banded door, and turned the key in the lock.

Hannah shivered in her inescapable bonds, again (quivering as a knot caressed her clit), then looked up when she heard the small hatch in the door slide back.  Her owner's grinning face was framed in the barred opening.

"I'm reasonably sure you'll still be here whenever I decide to come back," Sydney purred.  "Why don't you take a nice nap?  You're going to need your strength."

The hatch slid shut... and Hannah was alone, naked, bound, gagged, and chained by her neck to the wall of a bleak, dark (but, thankfully, comfortably heated) dungeon.  She lay her head in the straw, sighed through her gag, and closed her eyes.

God I love her, she thought ...the bitch!

Sydney entered the kitchen to find it unusually crowded.  Kayley was cooking at the stove, and Jillian, Cody, and Lord and Lady Carleton were seated at the worktable and consuming the various courses of one of Kayley's spectacularly delicious brunches as quickly as the food could be plattered and served.

"Morning," Sydney growled (in her customary manner) as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

The diners returned her greeting (after swallowing mouthfuls of omelet, bacon, sausages, ham, potatoes pan-fried in butter with garlic and scallions, etc.)

Sydney noted that Jillian was wearing one of her swashbuckling costumes (boots, tights, poofy-pirate-shirt, jerkin, and sword), Cody was in her elven-retainer uniform, the Earl of Gort was in nobleman-about-town attire (more or less similar to Jillian's outfit), and Lady Carleton was resplendent in a full, richly embroidered gown with generous décolletage.  Her long, auburn hair was swept back in French braids, with narrow braids plaited throughout the elegant coif.  (Obviously, Ashley the Amazon had either escaped into the woods or had been chained in the Stone Tower, to keep her out of sight so Lady Ashley wouldn't ask her husband embarrassing questions.)

And now that she looked, Sydney found that Pilar was also present.  She'd missed her when she first entered because the naked and bound Captive Dancer was sitting on the floor between Lady Carleton and Lady Foxwood, and was being fed tidbits and fork-loads of food from both Ladyship's plates.  A thrill rippled through Sydney's sex as she gazed down at the nude, bound Latina.  She loved Hannah with all her heart, of course, but there'd have to be something seriously wrong with a person to not appreciate the sight of Pilar smiling up at her like that... like she was now... with a knowing smile curling her lips.

Sydney coughed to clear her throat (and blushed).  "Ahem!  Where are the Bobbsey Twins and the Bookworm?" she inquired.

"Last I saw, they were dozing in the Bath," Jillian answered.  "What have you done with my Saxon?"

Sydney noticed Ashley and Pilar's "casual" interest in Jillian's question, and suppressed a smile.  "She's sleeping in."

"Get something to eat," Jillian suggested, "then I need you and Cody to help me with something down below."

Sydney nodded, then turned to grab a plate from the shelves.

Lord Carleton gazed at Sydney's pale, freckled, minimally-clad form with appreciation.  "Red Sonja," he purred—"Ow!"

Lady Carleton had kicked the Earl's left shin.

"I was just admiring her costume," Mitch objected in an innocent whisper.

Sydney grinned.  She'd heard Mitch's compliment.  It was nice to be "admired".

Unfortunately, with her back still turned, Sydney missed the surreptitious exchange between Jillian and Cody, in which Her Ladyship pointed to the coil of rope tucked under her retainer's belt and then nodded at "Sonja".

Cody nodded back, and they exchanged a quick wink.