|TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B
_by Van © 2008
To see the actresses I would cast in HHH:THE MOTION PICTURE,
link below and use your browser's "Back" feature to return.
NOTE: Okay, this isn't really an EPILOGUE,
but more like Chapter 13,
with a dash of Preview of
Coming Attractions. So shoot me. ☺
the joking name the family gave the rehearsal sessions of "The
Foxwood Consort", was drawing to a close. They were
practicing Women of
Ireland, with their leader, Sydney, on the harp
guitar, Alice on the upright bass, Constance on the recorder,
Cricket on the dulcimer, and Hannah on the bohdran. In
Sydney's arrangement, they each took turns carrying the
haunting, sweet melody, with the others in support. The
two exceptions were Cricket, as she was just learning her
instrument, and Hannah. There was no solo for the Irish
Drum. Nonetheless, the part was very demanding.
For most of the numbers in the Foxwood repertoire, Hannah and
her bohdran simply carried the rhythm. Granted, this often
required complex drumming, but Women of Ireland was different. It
called for a uniquely delicate
touch, with long runs of quiet, rapid pattering meant to
evoke distant thunder... if
she did it right. Done wrong, it sounded like a giant
woodpecker was loose in the rafters. Done right... it
could raise the small hairs on the back of the neck.
They came to the final bars. Connie's recorder carried the
complete, melancholy theme, one last time... then the music
faded with a low rumble of Hannah's drum.
There was a pause of several seconds.
"Adequate," Sydney said, finally.
"Adequate?" Alice scoffed. "It was perfect!"
"Uh, I was a little off," Cricket objected, shaking her head.
"How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" Constance inquired.
Cricket smiled. "Okay, I'll practice."
"We were perfect," Alice reiterated, "especially Hannah."
Hannah blushed, and gave Sydney a shy glance.
"She was adequate," Sydney huffed, but her eyes were
smiling. "You all
need to practice."
"Let's do Go Lassie Go,"
"Yeah, I love that one," Alice agreed.
"No, we need a new arrangement," Sydney said, then focused on
Cricket. "I need to write you a part, and you do need to practice."
"Yes, ma'am," Cricket sighed. "I said I would."
Sydney grinned, and put her hand on Cricket's shoulder. "I
know you will, and you're doing fine." She turned to the
others. "Now, that's enough for today."
Alice regarded her cousin with open astonishment. "Look,
everyone! Sydney smiled, and her face didn't crack!"
Everyone laughed, including Sydney, and began casing their
instruments and stowing them in the large closet behind the
"You are getting
good," Sydney whispered to Hannah when the others were out of
"It's like you said," Hannah whispered back, "the bohdran takes
a lifetime to master."
"As does any instrument. Now... Her Ladyship wants to talk
to you atop the main tower."
"Right away," Hannah nodded. She hung her encased drum in
its customary place and closed the closet door. The others
were already dispersing to various activities.
Sydney put a restraining hand on Hannah's arm. "But first,
I need to prepare you."
Sydney focused on Connie's disappearing back. "Scholar!"
Constance turned in the doorway. "I know, the tower!" she
shouted back. "I need to find the files Jillian wants."
"Okay!" Sydney turned back to Hannah.
"Prepare me?" Hannah repeated.
Sydney's lips curled in an evil smile. "My place," she
purred, and led Hannah towards the Residents' Wing.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
into her "medieval running togs". This consisted of olive
tights, trail runners camouflaged to look like slipper-boots,
and a brown, sleeveless tunic. The outfit was styled after
the "arming clothes" medieval warriors wore under their
armor. Historically, it was masculine attire, but the
costume couldn't possibly disguise
Sydney's feminine curves. Her long, red curls were combed
back and plaited in a tight, single braid that trailed down her
Hannah had stripped, then watched her girlfriend change, with leering appreciation.
Finally ready to deal with the grinning blonde, Sydney unlocked
and removed Hannah's thrall's collar, then locked her ankles in
shackles, her waist in an iron belt, her neck in a new collar,
and her wrists in manacles.
The shackles were joined by a hobbling chain and the manacles
were locked closely together, behind Hannah's back. A
connecting chain linked the hobble, the back of the belt, the
manacles, and the back of the collar. This set of hardware
was substantially thicker, wider, and heavier than "standard" Foxwood dungeon-wear,
including the chains. All of the edges were well-rounded
and the interior surfaces polished smooth, but the collar was
twice as thick and wide and three times the weight of a thrall's
collar. Hannah's arms were folded, as in a box-tie, but
her wrists were raised nearly to the level of her shoulder
blades. It wasn't quite as stringent as a reverse prayer,
but it was bad enough. The belt dimpled the flesh of her
Hannah's best guess was that her new ensemble weighted at least
twenty pounds, and probably more. "Where the hell did this stuff come from?" she
Sydney's lips curled in her all-too-familiar evil, gloating
smile. "What makes you think I haven't had it in the back
of my closet, all along, waiting for the right opportunity?"
"The patina," Hannah responded, "or rather, the lack of
patina. This is all new. Also..." She nodded
at the key dangling from a thong in Sydney's hand. "That's
"That new manufacturer of replica locks that Cody found," Sydney
confirmed, then dropped the thong over her head and the key down
the front of her tunic. "Jillian's seriously thinking
about replacing at least some of our hardware. It'll be a
phased replacement, of
"Some of our locks are getting
little worn," Hannah agreed. "Loose tumblers and tired
"Anyway," Sydney continued, "I picked up this stuff at Cody's,
during my last trip into town. You like?"
"No, I don't like,"
Hannah huffed. "It's heavy."
Sydney stepped behind her prisoner. "You have to expect
this sort of thing," she purred, "when you're the helpless
prisoner of 'cruel Cymric bastards'."
"Just you wait 'til my father's war band storms the Keep and—M'mmpfh!"
Sydney had dropped a ball-gag over Hannah's head, thrust the
ball between her teeth, and was buckling its broad, primary
strap at the nape of her neck. A pair of thinner,
secondary straps dangling from either side of the ball, and
Sydney crossed these under Hannah's chin, pulled them tight to
either side of her throat, and buckled them together in the
back. "We're not worried about bands of smelly, blond
barbarians volunteering for target practice," she chuckled, then
returned to the front and smiled at her prisoner. The
gag's mouth-filling ball was rubber, but it was covered with
thin chamois. "Now, let's go visit Her Ladyship, shall
Hannah rolled her eyes and glared
in helpless defiance. The foul-tasting ball was
already causing her to drool.
Sydney tied a length of rope to the ring in the front of
Hannah's new, much heavier collar. She picked up Hannah's
old collar, gave the rope leash a firm tug, and led her prisoner
towards the bedroom door. "We don't want to keep Jillian
waiting," she purred. "She'll think we've been down here
channeling the Bobbsey Twins, boinking away like crazed ferrets
in defiance of her summons, and might decide to do horrible
things to both of
us... as opposed to just you."
Another lazy Foxwood afternoon,
Hannah mused, as she trudged after her irritatingly smug
girlfriend in her heavy, clinking and clanking chains.
| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
The entire top
level of Foxwood's tallest tower was an open, hardwood deck,
surrounded on all sides by wooden railings. A peaked roof,
supported by posts and an elaborate system of timber-frame
joists, provided protection from the sun and rain. It
afforded a spectacular view of the valley and surrounding hills,
and several groupings of outdoor furniture were arranged to let
the residents and guests take full advantage.
The Evil Baroness and her Saxon Captive climbed the final steps
to the deck and found the Lady of the Keep seated at a table for
four, reading a book and sipping coffee. She was wearing a
velvet gown of dark jade, and greeted her sister and Hannah with
a warm smile. "Please, join me," she suggested, indicating
the remaining chairs with a sweeping gesture.
Hannah clinked and clanked to the table in Sydney's wake.
"Move it along, slowpoke," Sydney growled. When they
reached the table she pointed at the deck. "Down!"
Hannah rolled her eyes and dropped to her knees.
"Okay, she's here," Sydney announced, unnecessarily. She
dropped the empty thrall's collar on the table, untied Hannah's
leash, then coiled the rope and dropped it on the table as
well. "I'm going for a run," she said, then turned and
"Coffee before you go?" Jillian inquired, pointing to the coffee
service on the table.
Sydney shook her head. "A long run!" she called back over her
shoulder. "I'll see you at dinner! Don't worry about
the key to the thrall's new toys! I'll try not to lose
it!" She disappeared down the stairs.
"The one and only key,"
sighed, smiling at Hannah. She stood and pulled a chair
away from the table, then helped Hannah to her feet. "Not
to worry. I'm sure there's a spare around here somewhere, and if we can't
find it, we can always ask Cody to make a house call."
Hannah favored her boss with an unamused stare. She knew
she was being teased.
Jillian released the twin buckles of Hannah's gag and pulled the
ball from her mouth. "Coffee?" she offered, as she resumed
"You'll have to serve me," Hannah said, stating the obvious, and
settled back in the chair. This required a little
squirming and twisting, to shift the connecting chain to one
side. "Just out of curiosity, what infraction of your
precious rules did I commit to deserve all this hardware?"
Jillian smiled, poured coffee into a mug, then held it to
Hannah's lips so she could take a careful sip. "Just
another indoctrination test," Her Ladyship purred.
"Okay, that does it!" Hannah snapped. "I demand to see what else is
on your damn list."
"My 'damn list'?" Jillian inquired, sipping her coffee with an
"Your list of indoctrination tests, or trials, or tortures, or whatever the
hell you call them."
"Oh, that list,"
Jillian chuckled, then lifted Hannah's mug, again, so the
captive could take another sip. "I'll tell you a secret,"
she confided. "There is
"We're making this up as we go along," Jillian explained.
"Whatever sounds like a good way to have a little fun at the
Saxon's expense, we do it."
Hannah stared in disbelief. "We?"
Jillian smiled, sweetly. "Sydney, of course, although I
have to do extensive editing
of most of her suggestions,
as I'm sure you understand. Then, there's Kayley, the
Scholar, the Princess... meaning the other Princess, the red-haired one, not the
blond barbarian Princess.
The only one who hasn't come up with anything so far is Cricket,
but I'm sure when she does think
of something, it'll be a doozy... probably with an Elven theme."
Hannah was struggling to maintain her expression of Righteous
Just then, Constance bounded up the steps and hurried to the
table. She had a leather portfolio under her arm.
"Sorry," she gasped, then glared at Jillian. "You need to
do a better job of filing things," she chided, and set the
portfolio on the table.
Jillian chuckled, and gestured at an empty chair. "I'll
get busy reorganizing my office right away. You found the
Constance was staring at Hannah. "Wow!" she whispered,
then she turned back to Jillian and continued in her normal
voice. "Uh, yes, they're both here... there... in the
portfolio." She pulled out the chair and sat, then her
gaze returned to Hannah. "That stuff looks heavy."
"No, ya think?" Hannah drawled. "You'll find out exactly how heavy, the next time I
help you 'meditate'."
Constance smiled. "Don't you dare," she whispered, and a
delicate shudder shook her diminutive form—then she
gasped. "Wait! What about the cage? You promised I could try the
Jillian raised an eyebrow in question, and Hannah
explained. "I'm making a little wooden platform for the
bottom of Cody's coffin-cage, so we can use it with pipsqueak
damsels—like the scholar, here—without them looking even more
ridiculous than usual."
"Platform?" Jillian asked.
"Several wooden disks that will nest together and snap into the
bottom," Hannah explained. "We can vary the number of
discs according to the height of the 'victim'."
"I see," Jillian smiled. "That way the occupant's
profile..." She traced an hourglass shape with her index
fingers. "...will always be at the correct height to match
the cage's profile. Good idea."
"Tell her about the spikes!" Constance suggested.
Hannah smiled. "The top disk will be covered with tiny
little spikes. Don't worry, they'll look terrible, but I'm
talkin' about closely-spaced, very dull spikes. It'll be like wearing a
pair of those, uh, what do you call them... massage sandals?"
"They'll make the feet very sensitive,"
added, shuddering again.
"I see," Jillian said. Clearly, she was still dubious.
"There'll be the option of flipping the top disk over, so the
spikes are down," Hannah explained. "They'll nest into
holes in the second disk."
Jillian nodded. "That sounds better."
"Jillian!" Constance complained. "The spikes'll be okay."
"We'll see how you feel after thirty or forty hours," Hannah
Constance shuddered, again, and her eyes widened in
horror. "You wouldn't do that to me... would you?"
"Little flirt," Jillian laughed. "Coffee?" Constance
shook her head. "Okay, then," Jillian continued, "to
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
all..." Jillian reached into a small purse dangling from
her belt and produced a key and a small iron object.
Hannah recognized one of the screw-lock cylinders that secured
the back of a standard Foxwood thrall's collar; however, this
one was different. There was no keyhole.
"Cody made this for you," Jillian explained, then picked up
Hannah's thrall's collar, used the key to unlock its cylinder,
then replaced it with the new, key-less version. She
smiled at Hannah. "No more tan line around that pretty
throat. From now on, when you're skinny-dipping at the
pond or running on the trails, I order you to remove your
collar." She demonstrated the new cylinder's operation by
pressing the top and giving the staple-ring at the base a
twist. The cylinder slid free and the collar opened.
"I'll let Sydney keep the old cylinder, of course, so she can lock you in your collar,
whenever you've been naughty."
"You mean whenever she
feels like being naughty,"
huffed, "which is most of the time... but thank you."
"You'll look much prettier
the tan line," Constance added, then blushed. "Uh, not
that you aren't pretty with the
line... I just think, I mean we
think..." Her voice trailed off as Jillian and
"Silly scholar," Hannah chuckled. "Kiss me."
Still blushing, Constance leaned to the side, and planted a kiss
on Hannah's lips. "And I'm
the one that's supposed to be a flirt," the little brunette
whispered as she resumed her seat.
"Thank you," Hannah reiterated, smiling at Jillian.
"You can both kiss me later,"
purred. "Now, in addition to your promotion to 'trustee
thrall', you're also promoted to 'apprentice trouper' in 'The
Foxwood Family Players', in the role of... Captured Saxon."
"Sounds like a stretch," Hannah said, with a wry smile.
Jillian laughed. "The rack won't be involved... most of
Constance giggled and Hannah rolled her eyes.
"New players have to prove themselves in supporting roles,"
Jillian continued. She turned to Constance. "Have
you two ever discussed the 'big picture' with respect to
Foxwood's fantasy geography?"
"Uh, not really," Constance answered.
Hannah frowned. "This isn't Wales? Fantasy Wales, I mean," she
clarified, "or rather... 'The Cymric Kingdom of
Constance giggled, and Jillian favored her thrall with an
expression of amused tolerance. "Constance," Her Ladyship
drawled, "remind me to add a scold's bridle to our next order
from Archer Metals. Anyway, please give us the extra-short
version of your 'Guide to Middle-Earth, Foxwood Edition'."
"The extra-short version," Constance repeated. She stared
into the distance for several seconds; then continued.
"Well... Foxwood Valley is situated in a sort of no-man's-land
between cultures, at a juncture of several caravan routes.
There are Hyborian Savages to the north, Desert Warriors to the
south, and various kingdoms to the east and west, including the
"The collection of ramshackle pig farms your Saxon father
laughingly calls his 'kingdom' is a month's hard travel to the
east," Jillian explained.
"Oh... you mean the hilltop city of my birth that looks a lot
like Edoras?" Hannah inquired.
Jillian laughed. "Whatever." She noticed Connie's
slightly peeved expression and composed herself. "Pray
"Well," Constance huffed, "let's just say we get a lot of interesting guests staying
at the Inn." She glared
Jillian. "Extra-short enough?"
"Well done, scholar," Jillian chuckled. "There's raiding
across nearby frontiers," she explained to Hannah, "but Foxwood
is respected as neutral territory by all parties."
"A useful arrangement," Hannah suggested.
"Exactly," Jillian agreed, "and it makes for some very entertaining
"It's sort of modeled on Al-Andalus,
during the First Taifa Period," Constance lectured, "when Iberia
was divided into a patchwork of squabbling Christian and Moorish
states. There were intolerant fanatics on both sides, of
course; but mainly..." She noticed Jillian's
expression. "Uh, right... extra-short version." She
passed her thumb and forefinger across her lips.
"I should get college credit for this stuff," Hannah muttered.
Jillian smiled. "Anyway..." She reached into the
portfolio and pulled out a folder. "The timing is still
uncertain, but your first role as 'Saxon Captive' will be during
the next visit of two of our regulars. The first
is..." She pulled out an eight-by-ten photo and dropped it
on the table. "Ashley Carleton, wife of Mitchel Carleton,
CEO of Gort."
gazed at the photo. It was a posed portrait of a very attractive brunette,
about Hannah's age. "Gort?" she asked.
"Gort is a security service for ISP's and corporations with
large server farms," Constance explained. "They do
consulting, hardware and software, and active network security
monitoring. Very successful. Very rich."
"Ashley's a sweetheart," Jillian said, smiling at the glossy
image. "And this photo doesn't do her justice. Her
hair is a really pretty shade of russet, her eyes have these tiny little flakes of
gold, and her lips—"
"And she's a sweetheart like Sydney's
a sweetheart," Constance interrupted. She gazed at the
photo with a pouting frown on her pixie face.
Jillian chuckled. "Just because you had such an interesting time during
her last visit, that's no reason to make disparaging remarks
about one of our best-paying guests."
"What happened?" Hannah inquired.
"No gossiping about guest activities, remember?" Jillian
chuckled, then focused on Constance. "You like her.
"Okay," Constance sighed, then grinned at Hannah. "She
really is a lot of fun... like Sydney."
"I can see why you wanted me in chains to talk about this,"
Jillian laughed, then placed a second photo beside the
first. "I will tell
you that Ashley's favorite role-playing character is that of a
mercenary for hire."
"That's redundant," Constance said. "Mercenary means 'for hire'."
Jillian regarded the scholar with an even stare. "Make
that two scold's
bridles for Cody's next order."
Hannah smiled. The second photo was of Ashley Carleton in
a white linen shirt with long, loose sleeves, and a brown
leather jerkin with a generous décolletage. Her legs were
bare, but the shirt and jerkin were long enough to serve as a
sort of mini-dress. The Evil Baroness Sydney had similar
costumes. A wide corset-belt of brown leather was cinched
and buckled around her waist and a broadsword was slung behind
her back. The brown-haired beauty was outdoors, lit from
behind by a beam of sunlight, and was caught in a pose of
confident, graceful motion. "She's a looker." Hannah
"Wait 'til you see her in the Bath," Constance sighed.
"She's got a perfect figure,
and she's a natural athlete. She's gorgeous... like..."
Connie focused on Hannah, and blushed.
"Like you, Saxon,"
Jillian laughed, reached out and patted the embarrassed
scholar's hand, then smiled at Hannah. "She's tall," she
continued, "taller that Kayley, in fact, by about an inch.
I won't say more, other than to agree that Ashley Carleton is,
indeed, a looker..." She shifted her gaze to
Constance. "A gorgeous
Constance was still blushing, but her lips curled in a wry
smile. "Which is also redundant,"
"Make sure that second scold's bridle is size 'small', with a
spiked tongue-piece," Jillian purred, then gathered the photos,
returned them to their folder, and pulled a second folder from
the portfolio. "Ashley will be bringing a friend on her
next visit, a close friend." She pulled a photo from the
"Pilar de la Calva," Jillian amplified, "professional
"They've never been here together," Constance interrupted, "but
they're really good friends, and..." She noticed Jillian's
mildly irritated expression, and again passed her finger and
thumb across her lips. "Zipping," she said, with a
were on the photo. Pilar had a very expensive
camera in her hands, and she was stunningly beautiful, with a
Latin complexion, gorgeous doe eyes, and long, straight, black
hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "Pilar de la Calva,"
"Born in South America," Jillian said. "Chile, I believe,
but her parents immigrated and she's lived in the US since early
"She has the coolest accent,"
sighed, "just a hint of an accent, really, but her English is
perfect. Anyway, her voice is really sexy."
"'Zipping'?" Jillian quoted. "Words have meanings, you
Constance blushed, then stuck her tongue out at the Lady of the
Keep. "We all love Pilar," she said to Hannah.
"She's a ton of fun."
"Another mercenary?" Hannah asked, then lifted her eyes from the
photo and smiled at Constance. "Meaning a mercenary for
hire that will fight for money?"
Constance stuck out her tongue again, this time at Hannah.
"I refuse to be baited," she huffed.
Jillian laughed and shook her head. "Mercenary?
No. One of her characters is a wandering Jungle-elf."
"A what?" Hannah demanded.
"Jungle-elf," Constance answered, then focused on Jillian.
"To be extra-short about it..."
Jillian nodded, with a tolerant smile.
"Jungle-elves are from the tropics," Constance continued, "the
other side of the Great Desert." She pointed to the
south. "They all wear hammered gold cuffs on their upper
arms and other gold jewelry, properly understated, of
course. Also, skimpy silk loincloths and bandeaus with
folded pleats in a sort of Egyptian or Mesopotamian style."
"'Folded pleats'," Jillian purred. "Isn't that redundant?"
Constance gave her boss a pained look, then continued.
"They look like one of those nearly naked amazons or slave-girls
from the Lost City in one of those old Tarzan movies, only with
pointy ears. Very
sexy and hot, done right, and Pilar pulls it off perfectly!"
"However..." Jillian pulled out a second photo.
Nomad Dancer!" Constance squealed. "That's my
favorite! It's Cricket's, too," she told Hannah.
"Pilar's taught her a lot of
really cool moves."
"Belly dancing is one of Pilar's hobbies," Jillian explained,
"and it's very good
"I'll say," Hannah sighed. The photo showed Pilar in a
skimpy, Middle Eastern costume, performing what was no doubt a
very healthy and entertaining belly dance. She had a
lithe, well-toned figure, and while her breasts weren't
particularly large, she was very
"Pilar will, indeed, be playing a Desert Nomad Dancer during
this visit," Jillian confirmed.
"I'm still working on the scenario," Constance said, then
frowned at Jillian, "and nobody bothered to tell me that Pilar
had decided to use her Dancer persona. After all, I'm only the writer. Now
I'll have to do some re-writing."
Jillian smiled. "You know very well that all concerned
could improvise this entire thing on the fly."
Hannah smiled. "Improvise on the fly? Isn't that redundant?""
Jillian smiled. "Did it ever occur to you two that I might
Constance groaned and rolled her eyes. "Enough, already,"
she muttered. "I'm sorry I started this game.
Anyway, I spend hours thinking
up critical dialog and little pieces of business for the lead
Jillian smiled at Hannah. "Connie does a masterful job,
always. However, the details she's talking about are for
the benefit of her fellow players, not our guests. They have a general
idea of what's expected of them as things begin, then it's all
improvisation... for them."
Jillian's smile turned rather sinister. "Don't worry about
your part in this,
your first actual scenario with paying guests. It will
require a minimum of improvisation, and your lines will all be
limited to variations on the phrase 'M'mmpfh'."
"That's what I was afraid of," Hannah sighed.
Jillian laughed as she returned the photos to the folder, then
slid it back into the portfolio and handed it to
Constance. "Thank you scholar, and we have weeks, if not
months, for you to work on your rewrites."
"Uh, you want me to..." Constance gestured towards the
stairs and Jillian nodded. The little scholar stood, then
placed a hand on Hannah's shoulder. "Can I take Hannah
with me, so she can finish working on the platform for the
"I'm afraid I have other tasks for my Resident Artisan," Jillian
said, locking eyes with Hannah.
The scholar heaved a piteous sigh.
Jillian chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, hand me the
portfolio," she ordered, and Constance did so. Jillian
opened a large flap on the cover, revealing a set of pockets
containing several small sheets of parchment-like paper, a pair
of quills, a small bronze cylinder, and a short candle of red
Hannah watched as Jillian used one of the quills—it was actually
a ballpoint pen with a stiff feather mounted in its base—to
scratch out a short note. She then folded in the corners
of the parchment and used what appeared to be a small propane
lighter in the cylinder to light the candle. She dribbled
wax where the corners of the parchment met, then stamped the wax
with the base of the cylinder, leaving the impression of a
leaping fox. She penned an elegant "K" on the reverse
side, returned everything to the appropriate pockets and secured
the flap, then handed the portfolio and the note to the scholar.
"The note's for Kay-bear?" Constance inquired, and Jillian
nodded. "Uh... what does it say?"
"You'll find out," Jillian answered, with an enigmatic smile.
Constance sighed, then favored Hannah with a Brave Smile.
"Well... Saxon... if we never meet again in this life...
remember me fondly."
"Oh, I will," Hannah responded, with mock gravity.
again, then executed a slow, graceful curtsy. "You
Ladyship," she said, took a step back, then turned and walked
away, with head bowed.
"Drama queen!" Jillian admonished as Constance disappeared down
The sound of muffled giggling echoed up the stairway, then the
scholar was gone.
Hannah smiled at Jillian. "What now?"
"What now, indeed," Jillian purred.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
at Hannah for several seconds, a wry smile curling her
lips. "It occurs to me that in all the time since you've
joined us at Foxwood, we've never had a chance to play."
Hannah blinked in surprise. "Uh, I'd say that's probably
the most spectacular and
inaccurate understatement in the history of spectacular and inaccurate
understatements," she said.
Jillian laughed. "I mean really play," she continued. "Every now
and then... not very often, mind you... I allow my 'inner
demoness' out of her cage. Even Sydney is afraid of my
Hannah realized her pulse was pounding and her sex was tingling.
"Oh," Jillian whispered, "is that a fight-or-flight
response? But you can't do either, can you Hannah?"
Hannah swallowed, nervously. "Uh, Jillian,"
she said, "there's something I've been meaning to ask."
Jillian lifted an eyebrow in amused surprise. "And now seems like a good
Hannah's lips quivered in a nervous smile. "Our guests eat
all their meals in the Common Room—breakfast, lunch, and
dinner—unless they want to go for a hike and Kayley packs them a
lunch. This place is a hotel, or a destination resort."
"So, why do we call it a 'B&B'?"
Jillian laughed. "Funny how the mind works... especially
in times of stress. Sometimes, trivial things can suddenly
become important. I think it's a kind of avoidance
mechanism. Anyway, to answer your question... you think
'B&B' is short for 'Bed and Breakfast'?"
"No," Jillian continued, "try 'Bondage and Boinking'."
Hannah groaned, "and it can't
"We started out calling ourselves a Bed and Breakfast before we
had Connie to police our use of the language," Jillian purred,
"and I'm not going to
change all the signs and paperwork. Now, if you want to
see 'terrible', keep up the attitude." A chillingly sinister smile
curling her lips, Jillian rose and walked to Hannah's
chair. She leaned close from behind, and began gently
kneaded her breasts.
Hannah closed her eyes and purred in contentment—then her eyes
popped wide and she gasped
as Jillian's hands tightened into claws. "Jillian!" she
complained. "That hurts!"
Her Ladyship laughed. "Quiet, thrall!" she growled.
"If I want to hear about your feelings, I'll torture it out of
you." She released her grip, used one hand to take a firm
hold on the back of Hannah's collar, and let the other slide to
the captive's crotch.
Hannah watched the white handprints on her breasts fade as the
blood flowed back into the sensitive flesh, then she gasped,
again, as Jillian thrust her fingers between her labia.
"Only a little wet," Jillian purred, her lips less than an inch
from Hannah's right ear, "but with what I have planned... that
Hannah tugged on her bonds. This was a new Jillian, a different Jillian.
Gone was the protective, nurturing Lady of the Keep, who liked
to tease and please.
In her place was a deliciously evil Jillian. "Wh-what are you going to
do to me?" she stammered.
Jillian laughed, slid her hand from Hannah's sex, then took a
firm grip on her braids and pulled her head back. "To
start, it's what you
are going to do to me,"
she whispered, then crushed Hannah's
lips in a savage kiss. After several seconds, she pulled
back. "I know what you've been up to," she purred.
"Wh-what?" Hannah gasped.
"You've been discussing open
rebellion with Sydney and Kayley," Jillian
responded. "Imagine, a Saxon thrall thinking she could
recruit my sister and my seneschal into a scheme of treacherous
mutiny... that they would conspire with you, a blond barbarian
captive, to render me helpless...
that they would help you make me your thrall."
"As a game!" Hannah explained. "Just as a game! We
all play at this stuff, but you never get to play."
Jillian laughed. "Except as Mistress of the Keep."
"I... I mean... the other way,"
Jillian laughed again, in a deliciously evil manner that sent shivers through Hannah's
sex and up her spine.
"Saxon," Jillian whispered, "not even when Lady Lydia comes to
visit does Jillian Foxwood play the other way."
"Lady Lydia comes here?"
Jillian smiled, "And cums, and cums, and cums.
That's 'cum' with a 'U', of course." She kissed Hannah
again, then continued. "In ropes, in chains, hideously
restrained in every way imaginable... I'm looking forward
to her next visit, as is she. You can't imagine how
difficult it was for Lydia to keep her hands to herself when she
had you naked and helpless in her
dungeon. Sometime, I'll let you read her e-mails on
"Really?" Hannah whispered.
Jillian released Hannah's braids and took a step back. She
then lifted the hem of her gown and reached under the dark jade,
velvet folds. There were a few seconds of fumbling, then
she produced her loincloth. She tossed the white linen
cloth on the table, then turned and strolled to the far side of
the deck. She settled into a comfortable lounge chair,
then smiled at Hannah. "What are you waiting for, Saxon?"
she inquired, with an exasperated sigh. "Get on your knees
and drag yourself over here. Do I have to tell you everything?"
Hannah suppressed a smile. A game, she thought, a rough game, but a game. She
blushed. Of course it's
a game. I knew that. She slid off the chair
and onto her knees, then started shuffling towards
Jillian. The deck was hard and her chains restrictive and
heavy, but the effort was more humiliating than punishing, the teasing sort of
humiliation Hannah had come to expect during a Foxwood game.
"When you get halfway," Jillian purred, "flop onto your stomach
and crawl the rest of
Hannah sighed, and followed her orders. At the midpoint,
she dropped to the deck and began dragging herself forward.
Saxon Princess," Jillian teased. "Her chains are so heavy and tight, and
she's many, many miles from the borders of her father's kingdom,
at the complete mercy of her enemies."
When Hannah finally arrived at Jillian's chair, she was slightly
out of breath and a little sweaty. Hannah might be in good
shape, but she wasn't used to crawling like an inchworm while
encumbered by many pounds of cold iron.
Jillian eased back in the chair's soft cushions, spread her
legs, and lifted the front hem of her gown until her skirts were
bunched across her waist. Underneath, she was wearing
brown knee boots and white linen stockings. "It's going to
be a long afternoon," she said, "and an even longer night.
We'll be eating dinner alone, in my room, and afterwards... I'm
going to whip you."
Hannah caught her breath. "Why?"
"Another broadening of your horizons," Jillian explained.
"Don't worry. I won't draw blood, and I'll try my very
best not to seriously
mark all that glorious tan
flesh... but you're not going
to enjoy it."
Hannah swallowed, nervously. Her pulse was pounding,
again. She didn't trust herself to say anything in
response. Her voice might break. This was
taking things to a new level, again!
Jillian daring her to
say no? Was this a test of her ability to submit?
She knew Jillian didn't care for pushovers, that she wanted her
to show some spirit. Will
I lose her respect if
I submit to her whip? Will I become just another
sniveling subie in her eyes?
"I'll make it up to you," Jillian continued, still smiling the
same wicked smile, "but only
you're a diligent thrall and perform whatever tasks are set
at her Mistress's pale thighs, the pink, glistening folds of her
sex, and the crimson curls of her pubic
bush. On the other
hand, can I even say
no? Hannah tugged
on her chains. She wasn't exactly in a position of
power. Well... she
Hannah swallowed, again, lifted herself up onto her knees,
wet her lips, and leaned forward.
Jillian dropped her skirt over Hannah's head and shoulders, then
gasped as Hannah
thrust her tongue between the folds of her labia and gave her
sex a slow lick.
Hannah took a deep breath, savoring the humid, musky air trapped
under Jillian's skirts. "Bondage and Boinking my ass," she
"That's the wrong kind
of tongue wagging," Jillian warned... then shivered in
delight. "Oh, that's much
better!" she growled, as Hannah began licking and probing
"Keep that up," Her Ladyship sighed, "and you'll get a whipping
and a raise."
Tales of the
HELPFUL HARDWARE HANNAH
HELPFUL HARDWARE HANNAH... The Story, Entire.