TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2009		_
		Chapter 12

Hannah crept down the dark hallway, returning to Sydney's room in the Resident's wing after a successful "rescue mission".  There were still at least two hours to go before dawn, possibly three.  She was naked, not having bothered to don any part of the Saxon Princess costume she'd worn to the feast, not even the loincloth, chemise, or slippers.  She had slipped down to the torture chambers under the Stone Tower and released Cody from the Torture Table, granting the Captured Wood-Elf a reprieve from Sydney's Insidious Icy Ordeal.  Cody had been subjected to "only" about an hour of the random drip-drip-drip of melting ice falling on her stringently spreadeagled body, but was very glad to see her Saxon Savior.  Hannah untied Sydney's handiwork—a lengthy and involved process—and helped Cody off the table.  There was a warm hug—for Cody, quite literally and pleasantly a warm hug—then the naked pair made their way to the upper levels, having a whispered conversation as they padded up the stairs.  There was another hug, then Cody headed for the comfort of the Roman Bath's hot-tub and Hannah returned to Sydney's apartment.

Hannah was pleased and not the least bit surprised that Cody Archer had taken Sydney's Vengeance in stride.  Cody was more of a Top than Bottom, but she seemed to appreciate a nice, creative distress scene as much as the next damsel.  Hannah eased Sydney's door open, slipped across the threshold, eased the door closed behind her, then turned... and smiled.

Things were more or less unchanged from when she'd left on her mercy mission.  Pilar was still on her back on Sydney's bed, her hands encased in leather mitts, her wrists and ankles buckled in padded leather cuffs, and tethered in a loose spread-eagle to the four bedposts by stout leather straps.  A soft linen rag was stuffed in her mouth and held in place by a tight panel-gag of chamois-thin leather.

There was one change.  A pair of steel clover-clamps were clipped to Pilar's nipples, and the center of their connecting chain was tied to one end of a long, vertical length of thin cord.  Hannah followed the taut cord up to a small pulley hooked to a staple in a ceiling joist, over a few horizontal inches to a second pulley, then down to a brass bell dangling several inches above Pilar's gagged face.

Sydney was as naked as her Desert Nomad victim and Saxon Sidekick, and was on her stomach between Pilar's splayed legs, busily licking and probing the shivering and moaning Nomad's sex with her lips and tongue.  That last part was very much not a change. Sydney and Hannah had been entertaining Pilar since dealing with Cody and dragging the Courtesan Dancer up to the bedroom.

"What's with the bell?" Hannah asked as she approached the bed.

Sydney smiled.  "You warned the Bitch-Elf what will happen if she goes whining to Jillian?"

"Don't worry," Hannah chuckled, "your reputation as The Evil Baroness is intact.  The bell?"

Sydney shrugged.  "With you off coddling elves, the Nomad's tits were getting lonely.  I improvised."  She shifted her gaze to Pilar's slightly sweaty, flushed, gagged, and gorgeous face.  "She's been warned that if the bell rings... I'll do something mean."

"Mean?" Hannah chuckled.  "Wouldn't want you to suddenly get mean."  She released the nipple clamps, clipped them to the bell cord, then tossed the whole arrangement behind the headboard to get it out of the way.  She then sat on the bed, leaned close, and kissed Pilar's left nipple while simultaneously caressing her right breast.  "Don't worry, Nomad," she whispered.  "I won't let her hurt you."

"Hah!" Sydney huffed.  "Like you could do anything to—"

"I'm invoking the Gabrielle clause of my sidekick contract," Hannah interrupted.

"The what?"

"The Sidekick shall have the right and obligation to temper the worst of the Heroine's dark impulses," Hannah pretended to quote, "thereby preventing said Heroine from slipping into Villainess status.  See also the Redemption subsection of the 'Supporting the Hero's Journey' appendix."

"I knew I should have read the fine print," Sydney grinned, and went back to entertaining Pilar.

"One more orgasm and then we all get some sleep, okay?" Hannah asked.

"What's the hurry?" Sydney demanded, when she came up for air.

"Who said you had to hurry?" Hannah purred, her gaze locked with Pilar's as she continued to massage the writhing captive's tits.  "By all means, take your time.  Make it... memorable."

"I live to serve," Sydney chuckled, and went back to work.

"Uh, by the way," Hannah said, shifting her gaze to her girlfriend.  "Cody says Jillian says my assignment for tomorrow is to 'entertain' Ashley, once Mitch is gone."

"I know," Sydney said, then extended her tongue and gave Pilar's labia a slow lick.

"It would be nice if she'd asked me," Hannah huffed, favoring Sydney with her best wounded pout, all the while continuing to toy with Pilar's breasts.

Sydney chuckled (the vibrations from which caused Pilar to shiver in her bonds).  "She should consult with an enslaved captive before lending her body to a noble guest for exquisite torture and/or miscellaneous boinking?"

"Well," Hannah sighed, "when you put it that way."  She returned her gaze to Pilar.  "I have no idea what Her Ladyship has planned for you, Brown-Eyes," she purred, gently teasing the captive's rock-hard nipples, "but I'm sure it will be as memorable as Scarlet Sydney's tongue."

Breakfast was the usual Kayley Barbano culinary delight, and was consumed with the usual enthusiasm, despite the ample size and superb quality of the previous evening's feast.  (Apparently, everyone in the Keep had worked up healthy appetites during the night.)  Also as usual, the Nobles were seated at their own table and were wearing everyday versions of what they'd worn to said feast.  The Commoners shared a second table.  This included Hannah and Alice, even though they were both technically Princesses.  (At Foxwood, enslavement and/or captivity trumps hereditary social status.)  Hannah was in her blue gown, but without the veil or jewelry, Kayley was in her usual Prosperous Peasant garb, Connie was back in Shabby Scholar drag, the elven retainers were in their Slave-Handler uniforms, and Alice had returned to Cinderella mode, including serving chains, bare feet, and a patina of grime.  Pilar was in a simplified version of her Courtesan Dancer costume: loincloth, bandeau, and an open, sleeveless robe, all of soft linen dyed a muted shade of mulberry.

Hannah was seated between Cody and Cricket.  "You sure you're okay?" she asked Cody.

"I'm fine," Cody chuckled, "as long as the Evil Baroness really has finished working through her revenge issues."

"She swears she has," Hannah replied, "for what it's worth."

"Yeah," Cody huffed, "for what it's worth," but she was still smiling.

"Has Her Ladyship elaborated on the plan of the day?" Hannah asked.

Cricket answered.  "We were told to stand ready, but that was it."

"We?" Hannah inquired.

"The Wood-Elf we," Cricket clarified.

Hannah nodded, and popped a piece of bacon in her mouth.

Just then, Jillian, Ashley, and Mitch rose from their table.

"Please, remain seated," Jillian ordered as the Commoners scrambled to rise.

"I want to thank you all for a most enjoyable visit," Mitch said, "but I'm afraid I must return to, uh..."

"Carleton Castle," Ashley prompted.

"Yes," Mitch continued.  "I have things to do, dragons to slay, invading armies to defeat, that sort of thing."

"Ham," Ashley accused, and the assembly laughed.

"In any case," Mitch said, "you're all invited to a barbecue at the aforementioned castle.  Her Ladyship—"  He bowed to Jillian, who bowed in return.  "—will coordinate the final arrangements with Lady Carleton.  Again, thank you."

All present applauded, the Carletons bowed, and there was a round of kisses and hugs.  Finally, Ashley and Mitch took their final leave.  Jillian would be accompanying them to the Outer Mews as escort.

Sydney was the only Noble remaining at table.  "Lady Carleton will return shortly," she announced, then focused on Cody.  "You know what to do with the Saxon."  She shifted her gaze to Cricket.  "And you know Her Ladyship's plans for the Dancing Trollop."

"Again with the disparaging names," Pilar whispered.

"She wouldn't do it if she didn't like you," Hannah whispered back, then favored Cricket with a mildly scathing glare.  "You said you didn't know what Jillie has planned."

"Yes, I did, didn't I," Cricket giggled, flashing a dimpled smile and batting her eyes for effect.

Kayley cleared her throat,  "Ahem.  But first, everyone will be allowed to finish their breakfasts."

"Hey, I'm the Evil Baroness in Charge," Sydney objected—then wilted, slightly, under Kayley's even stare.  "And I order everyone not to waste any of this delicious food."

"That's better," Kayley chuckled, and everyone resumed eating.

An Unconventional Job Interview
{Careful Preparations }
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

Cody escorted Hannah to the Stone Tower's infamous Whipping Chamber.  It had a high, vaulted ceiling, and was well-lit by numerous Drowish Globes flickering in caged sconces mounted along the walls.  A large wooden and iron mechanism they called the "Damsel Hoist" filled most of the back wall.  A simple windlass would have served its purpose, the raising and lowering of helpless captives, but the Hoist's elaborate system of oversize gears and massive counterweights suspended from heavy chains was much more dramatic.

Hannah removed her gown, chemise, loincloth, and slippers, and handed them to Cody, who carefully folded and placed them atop a wooden trunk.

"I'll take all this to the laundry," Cody said, as she wrapped and cinched Hannah's loincloth around the stack, creating a convenient bundle for carrying.  She then grinned at Hannah.  "After I get you ready, of course."

"Of course," Hannah sighed, then padded to the center of the room and stood between a pair of raised stone blocks set in the floor.  They were each about a foot square, separated by about two-and-a-half feet, and about six inches in height.  "I assume this is where you want me." she muttered.

"Such a keen grasp of the obvious," Cody chuckled, then moved Hannah's bundled costume to the floor, opened the trunk, and gathered what she needed.

In short order, Hannah was standing on the blocks and facing the door, with her legs splayed the required distance.  Her wrists and ankles were buckled in thick, wide suspension cuffs.  The ankle cuffs were attached to chains attached to rings set in the outside edge of each block, and the wrist cuffs to chains that passed through pulleys mounted in the ceiling and down to the main drum of the Damsel Hoist.  At the moment, Hannah's wrists were raised to the level of her shoulders, but she knew that would soon change.

Cody went to the trunk and returned with a small leather flask and a towel of coarse linen.  She draped the towel around her neck, then pulled the stopper from the flask, poured a generous dollop of clear oil on her hands, and rubbed them together.  The odor of musk and sandalwood filled the air.

Hannah gasped as Coy's oily hands began massaging her breasts.  "Is this really necessary?" she sighed, as the massage widened to include her shoulders, armpits, and ribs.  "I doubt if Jillian was as specific as 'make sure you oil her up'."

"Actually, those were her exact words," Cody purred.  "It's wonderful, basking in the warmth of Her Ladyship's affection, don't you agree?"  Hannah didn't answer, and Cody continued applying the oil until the Saxon's tan skin glistened under a thick coat from wrists to ankles, including her face, hands, and feet.

Cody wiped her hands and returned the flask and towel to the trunk, then returned with a gag.  It was a combination ball and bit-gag, and the in-the-mouth parts were thickly padded and covered with stitched chamois.  Hannah opened her mouth and accepted the inch-and-a-half diameter ball and one-inch bit, and held it between her teeth while Cody threaded the buckle at the nape of her neck.  "Okay, let go," Cody instructed.  Hannah released her teeth and Cody pulled the buckle as tight as it would go.  This left Hannah's face in a permanent gagged-grimace, with her cheeks bulging above the taut strap.  "Perfect," Cody purred as she arranged Hannah's braids.  She then stepped to the Damsel Hoist.

Hannah looked back over her right shoulder.  Cody, an irritating, gloating smile curling her lips, had her hands on the large, spoked wheel that operated the Hoist's main drum.  She gave the wheel several slow, complete rotations, the massive gears creaked and turned, the counterweights dropped, and Hannah's wrists were pulled inexorably upwards.  She stopped when Hannah was spreadeagled at full stretch, but with her feet still flat on the blocks.

"I know I already forgave you for helping Sydney torture me last night," Cody said, "but on reflection I've decided you seemed to be enjoying yourself juuust a little too much, so..."  She resumed turning the wheel.  The ratchet and pawl mechanism clicked as the drum accepted each additional link of chain and Hannah's wrists were pulled higher.  Cody stopped only when the captive's heels had left the blocks and she was up on her toes.  The grinning elf threw the lever that locked the drum, then strolled around the room making her final arrangements.

Hannah watched as Cody opened the doors of a tall, shallow cabinet, revealing an array of whips, floggers, paddles, and crops, as well as several pairs of nipple-clamps, coils of rope, spools of cord, and six Drowish Torture Wands (vibrators) of various sizes and designs.  The elf also pulled a simple table and two chairs away from the wall and arranged them where the chairs' hypothetical occupants would have an excellent view of Hannah's stretched and helpless body.

"Okay, Hannah," Cody said, as she strolled to the door, "you can start languishing now."  She started to pull the door closed, then paused.  "I don't know how long you'll have to wait.  You know how these Nobles can be."

Funny, Hannah sighed as the door was closed and locked.  How long will they be, she wondered, and flexed her feet.  Her arches hadn't begun to ache... yet... but it was just a matter of time.

The Wheel of Misfortune
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

Cricket took Pilar to a small shed set against the upstream wall of the Mill House.  "Thank you for not making me drag you in chains," she said as she opened the shed door.

"I know Her Ladyship's Evil Minion resources can be stretched rather thin when she has guests running around in different directions," Pilar answered.  "It's only polite to be a considerate captive."  Her eyes were on the turning waterwheel.

"Yeah," Cricket agreed.  "Strip, would ya?"

Pilar grinned.  "Of course."  She removed her robe, folded it and dropped it on the grass, then did the same with her bandeau and loincloth.  She stepped out of her slippers, turned, and watched Cricket pull a tangle of brown leather straps from an array of tack dangling from a row of pegs.  "A pony-girl harness?"

"We don't think 'medievals' would call it that," Cricket answered as she straightened out the straps.  "No need to degrade slaves by pretending they're livestock when you already think of them as livestock.  That's Connie's expert opinion, anyway.  We just call this a 'Thrall-Harness'."

"Whatever," Pilar chuckled, and extended her arms to either side to make it easier for Cricket to drop the harness over her head and start buckling the straps.

The harness included a collar, shoulder straps, a pair of "bra straps" that crossed between her breasts, a waist strap, and a pair of diagonal hip-straps that dove between her legs and anchored the bottom of the harness without covering her sex.  The gleaming brown bands were tight enough to dimple Pilar's flesh, but didn't actually restrict her freedom of motion.  That was the job of the next item Cricket pulled from the shed, at least with respect to the Dancer's fingers, hands, and arms.  It was a single-sleeve binder, and soon Pilar's hands and fingers were behind her back and pressed palm-to-palm and pad-to-pad, and her arms encased in tight leather from fingertips to armpits.  Her elbows nearly touched, and the already tight binder became even tighter as Cricket tugged on the vertical row of laces that ran its entire length.  Additional straps buckled the binder to the harness, specifically, the elbows to the bra-straps and the forearms to her waist.  Finally, the ring at the tip of the mitten was clipped to the back of the thigh straps.

"There," Cricket said, as she clipped a leather leash to the ring dangling from the front of the collar.  "Kneel," she ordered, and Pilar complied.  Cricket produced a harness-gag, and held it for her captive's inspection.  "The medieval version of a whiffle-gag," she giggled, turning the device so Pilar could see every detail.

The mouth-filler appeared to be a spherical basket about two inches in diameter.  Whatever it was made of, possibly stiff wire, all elements were completely covered by tight wrappings of thin leather lace.  This made it very much like a modern whiffle ball, a hollow sphere pierced by a dozen or more openings.

"It's very easy to breath through this thing," Cricket explained, "but I'm afraid it'll make you drool like crazy."

"I can imagine," Pilar huffed.

Cricket giggled.  "Imagination will not be required.  Open."

Pilar heaved a pathetic sigh, for theatrical effect, and opened her mouth.  She grunted and her eyes popped wide as the ball snapped behind her teeth.

"Yes, it is pretty big, isn't it?" Cricket giggled, as she buckled the harness.  Soon, horizontal straps encircled Pilar's forehead and a vertical strap, shaped like an upside-down "Y", framed her nose and anchored the gag-strap across the top of her head.  An additional strap linked everything together, passing from her crown, through slots in the other straps, and buckling under her chin.  Cricket carefully arranged the prisoner's raven tresses evenly and symmetrically through the various parts of the back of the head-cage of straps, then tightened all the buckles one more notch.

"There, I told ya it'd make you drool," Cricket giggled, as she buckled padded cuffs around Pilar's ankles.

Just then, Alice came clinking around the corner of the Mill House in her serving chains and ragged dress.  "Kayley said I could come help if you need me," she announced.

"I've got things under control," Cricket said, smiling at her girlfriend.

The grubby, diminutive Princess struck a disgusted pose, her head cocked to one side and her fettered hands on her hips.  "I said... Kayley said I could help, if you need me."

"Oh," Cricket giggled.  "In that case, I desperately need your help.  Keep an eye on Pillie and make sure she doesn't overpower me, 'kay?"

Pilar rolled her eyes in disgust.  Overpowering Cricket, she mused.  I'll get right on that.

Cricket grabbed Pilar's leash and gave it tug.  "Up," she ordered, and Pilar climbed to her feet.  "Let's get this show on the road," she said, and led her charge around to the Mill House door.

Pilar methodically planted her bare, fettered feet on each padded tread as the "Wench-Wheel" turned.  It was like being trapped in a gigantic, medieval hamster wheel—exactly like being trapped in a gigantic, medieval hamster wheel.  In truth, the design was probably more Renaissance than medieval, like something Leonardo da Vinci might have cooked up, if he'd been into female bondage.  Pilar glanced up and back at the dangling iron chains, cross-braced metal arms, and counterweights that comprised the wheel's "safety mechanism".  Small wheels at the ends of the arms turned inside circular rails running the circumference of the wheel, on either side of the treads, and the other ends were bolted to the heavy, free-turning sleeve surrounding the wheel's main hub.  If Pilar stumbled or fell as she stepped from tread to tread, the chains clipped to the shoulder straps of her harness would take her weight, a link or two after the chains clipped to her nipple-clamps and crotch chain had already snapped taut, of course.

Helpless in her harness and single-sleeve, her ankles buckled in padded cuffs and chained to the hub, silenced by the "whiffle-gag" harness caging her head, Pilar leaned forward and stepped from tread to tread to tread.  Her efforts caused the Wench-Wheel to turn at a rate fractionally faster than the waterwheel, even though they shared a common shaft.  This triggered two outcomes Pilar considered to be highly favorable:

1. The gears linked to the mechanism that timed the length of her session as a prisoner of the Wench-Wheel continued to advance;
2. Neither the clamps pinching her nipples nor the chain running between her buttocks and cleaving her labia tightened.

Pilar had to admit that Alice had outdone herself with the engineering of this thing, and Cody had executed the plans with great cleverness.  The mechanical hardware had to be modern—stainless steel bearings, machine tool tolerances, and such—but Cody's "hand-forged" parts perfectly preserved the illusion of medieval manufacture.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Alice sighed.  Cricket was reclined on an improvised chaise lounge of burlap sacks.  The chained Princess was snuggled against her side with her head resting in her lap.

"Very beautiful," Cricket agreed, gently running her fingers through Alice's copper-red curls.

In point of fact, Pilar's skin was flushed and shining with sweat.  Her breasts heaved as she panted through her gag and flaring nostrils.  Her tan, glistening thighs flashed and her chains rattled as she lifted each foot, planted it on the next tread as it dropped into position, and shifted her weight to the padded board.  Her raven hair was damp, with several strands plastered to her gag-grimacing face.

"So beautiful," Alice sighed.  "What's next?"

The red-haired thrall and pixie elf could have whispered, but they were speaking at a volume they knew would carry over the rumbling shaft, grinding gears, and clinking chains.  They wanted Pilar to hear.

"When she's earned it," Cricket answered, "we'll drag her out to the pond and toss her in."

"She'll like that," Alice sighed.

"Then," Cricket continued, "I have four heavy stakes already pounded in the turf out in the meadow.  We'll spread-eagle her and boink her a few dozen times.  Then, it'll be time for lunch."

"Who has the afternoon shift?" Alice asked.

"That would be Sydney."

Alice shivered, and smiled.  "What's she gonna do to her?"

"That would be telling," Cricket giggled.  "After dinner, there's an all-hands orgy in the Roman Bath, with Pillie as the guest of honor."

"Not counting Hannah-bear and Ashley-the-Amazon, of course," Alice said.

"Of course," Cricket agreed.  "Lady Carleton has the Saxon to herself, all day and all night."

Pilar shivered in her bonds as she trudged along, even though she was anything but chilled.  The Wench-Wheel was no more taxing than a power-walk up one of Foxwood's steeper trails, not the way Cricket had set the gears for this session, anyway.  She was shivering at the promise of the sensuous hours ahead.  And the chain slipping and sliding through her sex was doing its part, as well.

I love this place, Pilar thought, as she continued to turn the wheel, each complete rotation getting her one click of the counter closer to her dip in the pond.  Pilar the enslaved Desert Nomad was Bravely Suffering the torment and humiliation imposed by her Cruel Captors.  (On the other hand, Pilar the paying guest was getting her money's worth, and how!)

An Unconventional Job Interview
{The Interview, Proper }
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

Hannah had been "languishing" for at least an hour, and her arches were definitely starting to complain.  Occasionally, she would tense her arm, shoulder, and back muscles so her upper body took most of her weight.  This was only a temporary respite for her feet, of course, but it helped pass the time.  Taking visual inventories of the contents of the whip cabinet was another time-filler, but the bloom had left that rose some time ago.

Suddenly (finally!) a key rattled in the lock and the chamber door opened—and Hannah's initial relief immediately turned to dread (tempered by a thrill of arousal).  Jillian and Ashley entered the chamber, but they had changed from the gowns they'd worn to breakfast into all-leather versions of what the Foxwood residents called Evil Baroness costumes: gleaming thigh boots, skintight pants, and long-sleeve jerkins with plunging necklines.  Lady Foxwood's costume was predominantly rust-brown with darker trim tooled in a Celtic knot pattern.  The Foxwood emblem, a leaping fox, was embroidered with gold thread above her right breast.  Lady Carleton's outfit was virtually identical, only it was chestnut-brown with oxblood trim, and her emblem was a red all-seeing eye on a small silver shield pinned above her breast.  Both noblewomen had their hair combed back and plaited in tight, braided ponytails.

"My," Ashley said as she stepped forward, "she is a pretty thing, isn't she?"

"If your tastes run towards the blond daughters of barbarian pig-farmers with delusions of nobility," Jillian chuckled.

Hannah glared at her employer.  Outraged Pride was clearly the required response.

Ashley gently cupped Hannah's sex in one gloved hand.  "Are all Saxons this hairy?" she inquired, pinching a tuft of blond pubic curls and giving it a playful tug.

"Barbarians," Jillian shrugged.  "Keeping themselves neatly trimmed is as novel a concept as bathing.  Saxons are nothing compared to Hyborean maidens, though.  Peel them out of their smelly furs and they're like hairy little apes.  Legs, crotch, and armpits that have never known a razor... or soap, for that matter.  And they howl like apes when you wash and shave them... and you should see the fleas."

"No, thank you," Ashley chuckled, and tweaked Hannah's left nipple.  "Mine for the day, you say?" she purred.

"And the night," Jillian nodded.  "However, before you begin, please indulge me as we step out of character for a moment."

"Of course," Ashley answered with a bow.

"Hannah," Jillian said, locking eyes with her Master Artisan, "Ashley has a job for you, if you agree."

"Mitch and I have a place in the Napa Valley," Ashley explained, "a former winery.  We lease the vineyards to our neighbors, all of whom are still working wineries.  Anyway, the main house has a huge wine cellar, with cask rooms in the back formerly used for aging the wine.  Mitch has agreed to let me, shall we say, 'redecorate'.  Alice and Cody have already agreed to help with the design and specialized fabrication, but I need someone to do the actual work."

"In case it isn't clear," Jillian purred, "she's talking about something similar to your renovation of Lady Lydia's basement."

Another bondage playroom, Hannah thought.  Why not?  Should be fun.

"I'll make it worth your while, of course," Ashley continued, "and there's no rush.  I desire quality, not speed."

"We can work out a schedule so you can commute between Foxwood and Carleton Castle," Jillian added.

"I intend the venue to be 'timeless'," Ashley explained, "not true to any particular historic or cultural theme.  All the hardware will be generic in style, so I can redecorate at will."

"Hmm... theme parties?" Jillian asked.

"Eventually," Ashley nodded.  "A few drapes, Soji screens, or tapestries and I can go Victorian, Asian, or High Fantasy; but I'll start with bare-bones bondage."

Jillian nodded, then focused on Hannah.  "Well?"

It would be easier to answer if I wasn't gagged, Hannah mused, then nodded.

"Excellent!" Ashley gushed, took Hannah's head in both hands, and planted a kiss on her gagged mouth.

"Now," Jillian said, "one more thing and we can all get back into character."

"Wonderful," Ashley chuckled, and kissed Hannah again.

Yeah, wonderful, Hannah sighed.

"You'll remember I told you this is Hannah's first scenario?" Jillian asked Ashley.

Ashley nodded.  "Her first with paying guests."  She smiled at Hannah.  "Hard to believe."

"Yes."  Jillian removed her right glove, took a step closer, and cupped Hannah's sex with something akin to a slap, causing the spread-eagled captive to flinch.  "She did so well in the scripted part of your visit, I decided to see how she'd do after things went spontaneous."  She began a slow, gentle massage of Hannah's labia.  "You know how to operate the mechanism, don't you?" she asked, and Ashley nodded.  "Lower her a few inches, would you?  I imagine her toes will be most grateful."

Ashley pulled the locking lever and slowly turned the wheel.  Hannah began to drop, one link of chain at a time.  Jillian extended her middle finger, and as Hannah dropped, it slid between her moist labia and brushed against her clitoris.

"There, isn't that better?" Jillian purred.

Hannah shivered in her bonds and moaned softly through her gag.

"You were concerned she might not be ready?" Ashley asked, locking the drum and returning to Jillian's side.

Still smiling, Jillian shook her head.  "I wouldn't have assigned Hannah a role if I didn't think she could handle it," Jillian explained, "but I still needed to observe her reactions, to confirm that she was ready for free-play."  She continued slowly frigging Hannah with her fingers, and the captive continued squirming in her bonds, pressing her loins against her "tormentor's" hand, and moaning through her gag.  "I'm proud of you, Hannah-bear," Jillian said.  "You handled your part like a veteran of the troupe, and now you've shown me you can improvise like a veteran, as well."

Ashley laughed.  "My experience as a Bottom is limited, but I can vouch that escape-proof chains and a tight gag are definite aids to this sort of improvisation."

Jillian's gaze was locked with Hannah's as she continued her massage.  "Hannah plays the Damsel-in-Distress with perfection, and we're all quite proud of her.  You may cum, Princess," she purred.

Hannah clenched her eyes tightly closed and tensed her thigh muscles.  She was very close.  Her breasts were heaving and sweat was dripping down her glistening body.  She put her head back, tugged on her bonds with all her strength, and—her eyes popped wide and she screamed in frustration through her gag.  Jillian had withdrawn her hand, leaving her stranded at the cusp of orgasm!  She blinked the sweat from her eyes and glared at her employer.

"God how I love her spirit," Ashley sighed.

"Yes," Jillian purred, meeting Hannah's gagged frown with an evil smile.  "Now, that last thing I mentioned," she said, as she straightened the ends of Hannah's braids.  Hannah continued to glare.  "Hannah," Jillian continued.  "Ashley is already aware of this, but with long visits like this, the final day is always under the green banner."

Hannah was surprised.  Green banner?  No 'funny business'?

"I've found it's better for all concerned if there's a cool-down period before my guests return to the 21st Century," Jillian explained.  "That's impossible for short visits, of course, but for long visits, I insist.  So, Ashley will be having her wicked way with you for the rest of the day and tonight.  At sunrise, Foxwood will be one big, happy B&B, with two guests enjoying the hiking trails, our Roman bath, and Kayley's cooking."

"What happens under the orange banner, stays under the orange banner," Ashley chuckled.

"Exactly," Jillian confirmed.  "And, no matter who is in what role, if all involved know they're going to be sharing the final day's breakfast as equals, it tends to... temper the intensity of the final day.  Understand?"

Hannah continued to stare at her boss.  Yeah, whatever.  She glanced at the open whip cabinet, then sighed through her gag.  Exactly how intense is this going to get? she wondered.

"Alright, everyone," Jillian said, as she pulled on her glove and strolled to the table and chairs.  "Back in character."  She sat in one of the chairs, gracefully crossed her leather-clad and booted legs, and smiled at Hannah.

Ashley was also smiling at Hannah's helpless form.  "I still think your asking price is a little high," she purred, and began unbuttoning her jerkin.  "She seems strong enough, but I want a thrall I can whip for months without breaking her spirit."  She pulled off the jerkin and draped it over the back of the second chair.  This left her in boots, skintight leather pants, and gloves.

Hannah realized her pulse was racing (and her sex tingling).  She watched Ashley begin a series of arm-stretching and torso-twisting exercises.  Lady Carleton's firm, full breasts swayed and bobbed as she loosened up the muscles gliding under her smooth, tan skin.

Ashley strolled to the cabinet and ran one gloved hand across the handles of the dangling instruments of pain.  "Let's begin with a nice lashing," she purred.

"That would be my choice," Lady Foxwood chuckled.

Lady Carleton selected a flogger, slipped its thong over her wrist, and gave it a preliminary swing.  Its dozen or more eighteen-inch tails swished and rattled together as she continued to warm up.

"There's fear in her eyes," Jillian noted, smiling at Hannah's panting, glistening face.

"Good," Ashley chuckled.  She stepped behind Hannah's spreadeagled form.  "I don't intend to break her skin."

"Of course," Jillian nodded.  "That way we can play this game through lunch."

"Yes," Ashley agreed.  She swung the flogger and Hannah flinched at the sound... but it was another practice swing.

"I suggest we alternate the use of the whips with the Drowish Wands," Jillian said.  "When pain and pleasure begin to become one for a thrall, it can be very special."

"Indeed," Ashley purred, and drew back her arm.

Thank god these long, orange-banner visits are kinda rare, Hannah thought—then screamed through her gag as her back exploded in pain.  Not too bad, she decided.  No worse that when Evil Lady Jillian gets in the zone. 

Smack! 

"Arrrgh!" Hannah screamed through her gag, then focused on Jillian's smiling face and glared in defiance.

"So strong," Jillian sighed.

"And beautiful," Ashley added.

And helpless, Hannah mused, and waited for the next stinging lash.