TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _by Van © 2008		_
		Chapter 5

The Saxon Maiden Enthralled!
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Hannah continued testing her bondage long after her rational mind accepted the futility.  Writhing on the hard stone floor and weakly tugging on Sydney's ropes, she began comparing her current captivity to her experiences in Lady Lydia's dungeon.

Lydia had...

1. Chained her to the wall of one of the soundproof and hidden isolation cells, naked and ball-gagged, standing with her arms raised and her feet about a foot apart.
2. Strapped her to an "X-frame", also naked and ball-gagged, with thirty or more tight bands of leather pressing her limbs and body against the leather-padded wood every six to eight inches.
3. Abandoned her, wrists cuffed behind her back, ankles cuffed together, and mouth taped shut, on her knees and locked in a tiny "puppy cage" of gleaming steel bars (naked, of course).

All three of Lydia's hour-long "tests" had been "ordeals", but the cuffs and straps had been padded and comfortable.  The professional dominatrix had explained the importance of using restraints that didn't damage a client's skin.  They must be inescapable, of course, but harmless.  Position and time were the relevant variables for clients who wanted a more trying experience.

Besides, Lydia had continued, the psychological aspects of bondage were more important, far more important than the reality of tight leather and implacable steel.  That's when she'd started telling Hannah that she was a "subbie"—but Hannah didn't want to hear it!  Submissives were weak, and Hannah was not weak.

One thing was for sure... languishing in Lydia's restraints had been a snap compared to Sydney's handiwork.  Granted, the soft, faux-hemp ropes had been tied with consummate skill... or so she supposed, not having any real point of reference.  Lady Lydia had offered to give Hannah a rope experience, explaining that nothing matched the helpless feeling of an elaborate Nawa Shibari suspension (whatever that was), but Hannah had politely declined.  Maybe she should have agreed to give it a try.  It might have been a useful comparison for her current condition.

Anyway... her circulation was unimpaired; but lying on the hard floor while trussed like the proverbial turkey was becoming increasingly uncomfortable—and she certainly wasn't enjoying herself... much.  Also, the linen cloth stuffed in her mouth was cloying, the cleaving bands of the gag were tight, and her jaw was beginning to ache.  Her feet were also beginning to ache, thanks to the permanent en pointe position enforced by Sydney's foot-binding technique.  Again, none of it was all that serious, and it certainly wasn't anything she'd call torture.  But only a masochist would call it "enjoyable", and Hannah was no masochist!

So why does that pesky thrill keep trying to take over? she wondered.

Yes... Lydia had told her that everyone was a mix of top and bottom, but in Hannah's case (in Lydia's smugly smiling, mildly teasing professional opinion), her desire to be on the receiving end of things was the more pronounced.  An amiable argument had ensued, in which Hannah emphatically denied any such tendencies... but she knew it was a lie... was still a lie.  Hannah had enjoyed her time in Lydia's dungeon.  The ravishingly beautiful redhead hadn't done any actual ravishing, of course, and Hannah's hour-long "ordeals" had indeed been actual tests of the new equipment and renovated spaces; but Hannah had enjoyed playing out the fantasy of being a damsel-in-distress.  And she knew she wouldn't have minded if Lady Lydia had let her strong, pale fingers take advantage of her helpless condition.  But, Lydia had keep her hands to herself... and Hannah wasn't about to ask (before, and certainly not after being gagged, of course).  They were both professionals in their respective fields, and Hannah was being paid for her services.  It wouldn't have been proper to ask Lydia to "give it away".

So...  Hannah rolled completely over onto her other side, and stretched in her bonds.  What about Sydney?  Would she do any 'ravishing'?  She'd been leering at Hannah from the moment they met, and had already copped a feel before abandoning her to her current fate.  It had been a simple boob-grab, more to quiet her down than anything else... probably... but would she try anything else?  No, 'try' has nothing to do with it, Hannah had to admit.  I'm helpless... and she can do anything she wants.

And now that thrill between her legs was definitely back, making itself known with a shivering, quavering ripple of... anticipation?  Did Hannah want Sydney to start mauling her?  Did she want the red-haired beauty to run her freckled hands over her helpless body and... and... the rest?

In a word—yes! 

However, it was early in their "relationship", and Hannah didn't want Sydney (or the others) to think she was "easy".   ...depressingly easy to capture, maybe, but not easy easy.

And about the issue of the current "game"... Hannah's initial "panic" at her capture had long since faded, and she knew—with her intellect, anyway—that the Foxwood clan wouldn't keep her as a permanent thrall, making her work in chains and locking her in a dungeon cell at night.  But really... what could I do to stop them?  Lydia's the only one who even knows I'm here ...and what if she's in on it?  She knew that was her primitive hind brain "talking".  Hannah was safe!  She trusted Jillian to keep her sister in check  ...but what if I've misjudged Lady Jillian, as well?

That thrill shivered through Hannah's sex, with a vengeance...  and she forced herself to lie still.  Enough of this nonsense!  I know they aren't going to keep me as their slave.  Maybe I'm not all that comfortable, at the moment, but I'm not being hurt.

The important thing was that Hannah Blair wasn't a weakling, and couldn't let Sydney Foxwood or anyone else walk all over her... no matter how beautiful and strong and gorgeous they might be!

Okay... case closed!

Masochist?  No!  Bottom?  Maybe... maybe a little... But, a pushover?  Hell no, and I'm not weak!  If there were going to be any more games, she wouldn't let them get this far... except with Jillian... or maybe with Kayley.  Does 'Kay-bear' like this sort of thing?  And what about the Princess, or the Scholar... or Cricket.  I wonder what 'The Cricket's' default role is when she's not on thrall duty?  Would Hannah let any of them do something like this to her?  Hmm... probably not... not right away, anyway... and she couldn't let them think she was weak.

But ya know... it might be fun to tie one of them up.

Well... she could dream about it, but the best thing was to bide her time and let things develop.  This seemed to be a really good job and a fun group (current situation not withstanding), and she didn't want to blow it.

Now... let's get on with it!

Hannah twisted her shoulders and arms, and kicked her bound feet.  Of course, she knew it didn't matter how ready she might be to "get on with it", Sydney was the one in control.

(And there was that pesky thrill, again.)

Eventually, the hour passed... or maybe Sydney decided her "Saxon Captive" had had enough.  Hannah certainly wasn't in a position to verify the precise interval of elapsed time.  She heard the airlock door open... boots tapping in her direction... then fingers began fumbling with the knot of her blindfold.  It came away, she blinked her eyes in the sudden light... then glared up at her captor—and it was Sydney.

"Still defiant, I see," Sydney chuckled.  She had added a large leather purse to her ensemble, slung over her left shoulder on a long strap, and she reached inside to extract the promised iron collar.  It was either the same precision-machined/"hand-forged" choker Hannah had worn the day before or its twin.  She closed the dark metal torus around Hannah's throat and engaged the screw-lock in the back.  "We'll soon break that troublesome spirit," she purred.

Hannah watched as Sydney untied her feet and ankles.  The collar was heavy... but she knew she'd get used to it... like yesterday.

Sydney tied one end of the ankle rope to the ring in the front of the collar, then helped Hannah to her feet.  "If you try and kick me," she warned her captive, "I'll shackle your ankles.  Of course, you'll experience wearing shackles, eventually, along with manacles and other such restraining devices; but this morning we have a lot of ground to cover, and I don't want to damage your pretty skin."

Hannah continued glaring, then shook out her tousled locks.  They'd had time to dry into a tangled, blond mess, and several strands were falling across her face.  She mewled a well-muffled complaint past the cloth stuffed in her mouth, and stuck out her chin.

"Oh no," Sydney cooed, with an infuriatingly smug shake of her own head.  "The gag stays in.  I'm not in the mood for questions and complaints.  Take good mental notes as I drag you around, however.  Jillian will want you to discuss your observations.  Now, we'll start at the top of the Stone Tower, then work our way down to the dungeons."

Hannah stomped in Sydney's wake at the end of the rope leash—Like a damn poodle out for a walk! the captive fumed.  They exited the Roman Bath and made their way down a wood-paneled hallway to a door set in a stone wall.  Sydney pulled a skeleton key from her purse and turned the lock.  The portal swung open, and revealed a large landing with stairs leading up and down. 

"The Stone Tower," Sydney announced, and they crossed the threshold.

The walls and ceiling were all rough textured and dark gray; however, with the exception of the smooth flags under her feet, Hannah could tell they weren't actual stone, but were tumbled concrete blocks cast in several standard sizes.  They interlocked in a pseudo-random pattern and the illusion of dressed stone was perfect; but they weren't natural.  That would have been very expensive.

Sydney took the stairs leading upwards, and Hannah followed (whether she wanted to or not, of course).  The "Elven globes" were few and far between, and their light was far dimmer and their style less decorative than the globes in the main Keep.  They passed three more landings, each with a locked door leading into the interior of the tower... and finally reached the very top.  Another of the ubiquitous wooden doors led to a short hallway with three more doors.  Sydney unlocked all three, one-by-one.  Beyond each door was a large cell.  Two had archer-slit windows and a modest collection of rustic furniture.  The third cell was windowless, and held nothing but a pile of dry straw.  All three had iron rings set in the wall opposite their respective doors, with a length of chain dangling to form a pool of dark links on the floor.

Hannah was led into one of the furnished cells.  The window was glazed with thick, wavy glass, set in a frame at the narrow, exterior end of the slit; and the interior was heavily barred.  "This is one of the Stone Tower's 'Princess Suites'," Sydney explained.  "The perfect place to incarcerate a valuable noble hostage.  Locked to your collar, the chain is almost long enough for you to reach the door... not that it would be left unlocked, of course."  She smiled at her captive.  "Imagine a beautiful princess, chained in her tower cell, resplendent in her lovely gown, brushing her long hair and sighing in her lonely captivity.  Will she be rescued?  Or will her captors decide to drag her down to the torture chambers, below?"

Hannah gazed at the simple wooden chair, small table, and bed, with its burlap mattress stuffed with straw.  A couple of rough, woolen blankets and a straw-stuffed pillow were the only comforts.  She suppressed a shudder of dread (and felt yet another thrill ripple through her sex).  What would it be like? she wondered... then her leash snapped taut and she was led to the unfurnished cell.

"This suite is reserved for noble prisoners who have misbehaved," Sydney explained, "or who have otherwise aroused the ire of Lady Foxwood.  The dress code is either ripped, dirty underclothes..." She grinned at Hannah.  "...or a birthday suit, like yours... and chains, of course.  Lots of chains."

Hannah suppressed another shudder, this time with limited success.

"C'mon," Sydney said, tugging on Hannah's leash.  "There's much more to see."

The doors were relocked and Hannah was led back down the stairs.  "More cells," she explained as they passed the other floors, "some with special features like stocks, pillories, whipping posts, suspension frames, etcetera, etcetera.   I'll let you discover them on your own.  You've seen one 'Languishing Cell', you've seen them all, as far as I'm concerned."

They reached the ground floor landing and started down the other staircase.  This led to a straight corridor with a series of a dozen or more heavy wooden doors bound with iron straps.  The globes of this subterranean level were very dim, and cast a flickering, reddish light.  Also, their design was now somewhat sinister, with the decorative metal elements evoking creepy-crawlies, rather than forest plants.

Spooky!  Hannah thought.

"These are the actual 'Torture Chambers'," Sydney explained.  She paused and turned to regard her prisoner, a gloating, appraising smile curling her coral lips.  "Hmm... again, I won't show you everything, so as not to spoil any future surprises."

Hannah stared back at her captor, refusing to be baited.  Okay, that shuddering thrill was threatening another comeback... but she had to remain strong!  I'm not a bottom!  I'm not weak!  And I'm not scared!  (She almost believed it, herself.)

"Well... maybe one," Sydney purred, then turned to the nearest door, pulled out her key, and turned the lock.  Still smiling, she gave the heavy portal a shove, and it opened on squealing, oil-thirsty hinges.  The space beyond was roughly thirty-feet square, with another vaulted ceiling.  Elven globes in the new, sinister style flickered from sconces set high in each of the four corners; and centered in the space was... a large device.

Hannah's eyes popped wide, despite her resolve to remain strong.  She had no idea what to call the wedge-shaped piece of "furniture" before her, but she could guess its use.  It was constructed from heavy timbers, carefully joined and reinforced with iron bolts and straps.  It had a rectangular base, two sloping, rectangular sides, and two triangular ends.  The height, length, and width were each about five feet.  Iron rings were set in the base timbers and the ends, and a triangular iron bar formed the top ridge.  A rope dangled from a pulley firmly set in the ceiling, then traveled to a stout windlass set in the far wall.

"The Horse," Sydney announced, and led Hannah in a slow circuit of the device, letting her examine it in full detail.  "You straddle the ridge," she explained, "with a leg down either side and your weight on the bar."  She pointed up at the rope and pulley.  "That makes it quite easy to get you into position, whether you cooperate or not.  It can also be used to help you maintain a proper seat, either by noosing your arms and shoulders, or by lifting your wrists behind your back in the classic strappado.  That forces your center of gravity forward, of course, putting your weight on all the right places... or all the wrong places, depending on your point of view."

Hannah's heart was racing, but she was maintaining her brave front (she hoped).  I'm not scared!  I'm not scared!

"Your ankles are tied to the lower rings, to keep your full weight on the ridge," Sydney continued.  She stepped to Hannah's side, leaned close and whispered in her right ear.  "But I like to give the ankle ropes a little slack, so you can support yourself with your thigh muscles... at least for a while.  Eventually, they become exhausted... maybe even start to cramp a little.  Your legs go slack... and the result is the same."  She stepped back.  "I mean 'you' in the generic sense, of course."  She made a sweeping gesture towards the wooden horror.  "...unless you'd care to give it a try?"

Now, Hannah's heart was pounding.  She willed herself to calm down, as best she could, and redoubled her efforts to glare at Sydney's smug, gloating, oh-so-superior, beautiful face and not show any distress.

Sydney's smile turned slightly less evil.  "Hmm... I guess you're not such a pansy after all—but I do sense a little trepidation.  You don't think I'll really torture you... do you, Hannah?  And it's not like you're really my prisoner, is it?"

Hannah tugged and twisted against Sydney's ropes, testing the bondage she's already tested for more than a full hour.  She was a real prisoner... in a real torture chamber... deep under a real stone tower... at the mercy of...  a real captor?  She'll let me go, eventually, Hannah reassured herself, and continued to glare.  She has to... doesn't she?  She shifted her eyes from Sydney's gloating face to the Horse.  Nasty!  Her eyes returned to Sydney's gloating face.  Pansy?  Hah!

"One last stop on the tour," Sydney said, and led Hannah towards the door.  "There's that 'oubliette' Jillian wants you to see."

Hannah was led to a door at the far end of the corridor.  Sydney turned its lock and gave it a shove.  The space beyond was quite different from anything Hannah had seen, thus far.  The ceiling was lower than the other chambers, and the walls were of poured concrete.  There was no light, except for a few slivers of daylight leaking through a small, shuttered window at the far end of the room.  Hannah's eyes adjusted, and she realized the room was actually long and rectangular, and was divided by a series of steps into upper and lower levels.  Four massive concrete columns supported the ceiling, two in the upper level, and two in the lower.

"This is the foundation of a patio overlooking the valley that Jillian had added a few years ago," Sydney explained.  "The upper patio is tucked against the base of the tower, then it steps down to a lower level that juts out over the edge of the drop-off."  She pointed at the shuttered window.  "That's the only natural light on this level."  She turned to face her prisoner, and smiled.  "C'mon... I'll show you."

Hannah was led through what she now realized was the foundation of the upper patio, and towards the steps.  The concrete floor under her bare feet was filthy, much dirtier than the stone flags of the other Tower chambers.  The faint, dusty smell of well-cured concrete was in the air.  They passed between the first pair of columns... down the steps... between the second pair of columns... and stopped before the shuttered window.  The wall was only about six feet in height, and the roughly two-foot-square window was set near the ceiling.  The shutter was old, unpainted wood, and had the look of temporary construction.  Hannah couldn't tell anything about what might be beyond its dark gray, weathered slants.

"That keeps out the squirrels and raccoons," Sydney said, nodding at the shutter, then made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire, combined space.  "Obviously, we need to take this place out of the 21st Century and into the Realm of Foxwood."  She pointed at the dusty floor.  "Sit!"

Hannah lifted an eyebrow and shook her head.

Sydney's lips curled into what Hannah was coming to think of as her trademark "Gloating Villainess" smile.  "You think I can't tackle and hog-tie you?" she laughed.  "Are you a master of some kick-boxing martial art not on your resumé.  What are you afraid of, Hannah?"

Hannah sighed.  She's read my resumé?  Does she know about Lady Lydia's dungeon?  She settled to the floor, and sat on her naked rump.  The concrete was a little cool.  Obviously, this space wasn't heated.

Sydney knelt, then grabbed Hannah's ankles and folded her legs into a crossed, very unlady-like position, with her knees splayed.

Hannah watched as Sydney pulled the free end of her leash rope around her ankles, pulled out the slack, and lashed them into a permanent cross.

"Unfortunately" Sydney said, as she tied the final knot, "there's no chain to lock to your collar, so this will have to do."  She stood, crossed her arms under her breasts and smiled down at her prisoner.  "Jillian wants your ideas on how we should finish the space, so I'll give you some time to look around and think."

Hannah lifted her chin and glared up at Sydney.  I'm doing a lot of glaring today, she noted.  Of course, there's not much else I can do... trussed up like this.

"Feel free to roll around and get comfortable," Sydney purred.  "I'll try and remember to tell Jillian you're down here.  If I forget, someone's bound to remark on your absence at lunch... or dinner... or breakfast.  Then I'll remember."  She spun on her booted heel and gracefully sauntered across the lower chamber... up the stairs... and across the upper chamber.  She paused in the doorway.  "'Oubliette', she said, loud enough for Hannah to hear, "from the French 'oublier', to forget."

She closed and locked the heavy wooden door.

Hannah tested her bonds, from habit more than anything else.  She already knew she wasn't going to wiggle out of anything.  Minutes passed... followed by several more.  Hannah decided to try rolling onto her right side.  Maybe it'll give my butt a chance to warm up, she reasoned.  At least it'll be a change.  The maneuver was executed without difficulty, but the result was less positive than expected.  A few minutes of resting her right shoulder, hip, and thigh on the hard floor proved to be as uncomfortable as sitting cross-legged.  She rolled onto her shoulders, breasts and knees.  The collar-to-ankle rope was too short to let her settle onto her stomach and thighs.

Okay, this does it! Hannah fumed.  If she leaves me here all day, I will complain to Jillian, and I don't care who thinks I'm a spoilsport.  Any more of this shit, and I'm outta here!

Suddenly, she heard the door being unlocked.  She flopped onto her left side and steeled herself for yet another round of glaring at Sydney Foxwood.

But it wasn't Sydney!  Framed in the open door and smiling down at Hannah were Alice and Cricket.  Alice was resplendent in the gown she'd worn to breakfast, and Cricket was wearing the same burlap tunic and iron collar.

"Are you sure she's not coming back?" Cricket asked Alice.  Hannah could just hear the pixie's soprano voice, echoing across the distance.

"She won't be back," Alice answered.  "Once she locks her door and starts practicing one of her instruments, she's gone for hours."

"Oh, you know that isn't true, " Cricket scoffed.  "Stop teasing.  We already know she didn't tell Jillian or Kay-bear to take over, so she'll be back.  She wouldn't leave anybody to languish like this for more than an hour, tops—especially not her new girlfriend."

'New girlfriend'? Hannah wondered.

"I know," Alice conceded.  "The 'Evil Baroness Sydney' is really a pussycat.  Anyway... we probably have only something like a half-hour to watch her struggle."

"We should have brought a lantern," Cricket said.

"We'll get used to the dark," Alice laughed.  "Besides, it's more dramatic this way.  C'mon."

The diminutive pair padded and tapped across the upper chamber and down the stairs, then stopped.  Cricket sat on the stairs, and smiled at Hannah.  "She's beautiful!" she sighed, then looked up at Alice.  "Sit," she suggested.

"The floor's filthy," Alice noted.  "A princess can't sit on the dirty floor."

"Well," Cricket responded, "what do you expect me to do about it, go get a broom?"

Alice smiled, sweetly.  "No, you can strip, of course, so I can sit on that rag you're wearing."

Cricket grinned up at her smiling lover.  "Just you wait 'til it's your turn to be the thrall.  Just you wait."  She sighed, climbed to her bare feet, untied the front lace of her tunic, and pulled it over her head.  Now dressed in only her collar and skimpy, faux-burlap loincloth, she draped the tunic over the steps... then made a graceful bow.  "You throne awaits, Princess Alice," she purred.

Alice favored the thrall with a properly imperious nod, and slowly settled the regal rump atop Cricket's former costume.  The now nearly-naked thrall resumed her seat, and Alice leaned close and kissed her cheek.

Cricket smiled her adorable, dimpled smile as Alice nuzzled her neck.  Her eyes were on Hannah.  "Well, isn't she?"

Alice' head swiveled and her blue-green eyes regarded Hannah's naked, helpless form.  "What... beautiful?  Oh yes."

"No tan lines," Cricket noted.

"None that I can see," Alice agreed, and settled her head on Cricket's bare shoulder.

Cricket lifted her arm and draped it across Alice's shoulder, then leaned the side of her face against Alice's red curls.

They're adorable, Hannah mused.  Of course, sitting there all lovey-dovey and talking about me like I'm not here... I'd like to strangle them with these ropes... but they're adorable.  She focused on Cricket's small, firm breasts, strong thighs, coltish legs, and grubby bare feet.  Adorable.  Alice was fully clothed, of course, but she'd seen her naked yesterday.  Despite the increasing discomfort of her prolonged bondage and her mild embarrassment at being ogled by her audience of two, she found herself suppressing a smile.  In a strange way, she was grateful she was gagged, at least for the moment, as that made it easier to hide her feelings.  She watched as Alice and Cricket's free hands found each other, without the pixies taking their eyes off Hannah.  The fingers interlaced, the palms met, and the hands closed in a gentle squeeze.

Adorable.

"Her skin is so smooth," Alice sighed, "and with just enough body fat to soften her curves, so her muscles aren't too well-defined."

"Yeah," Cricket agreed.  "Nice tits, too.  Not too big."

"Or too small," Alice added.  "Although... you know I kinda like 'em small."

"Yeah, as long they're big enough for you to bite," Cricket huffed.

"Or the nipples are big enough for a nice set of clips," Alice purred.  "But with a nice rack like Hannah's, we can use the Tit Squeezer... the one with the little spikes?"

"I know the one," Cricket answered.

"And we can use wet leather thongs to tie them up," Alice added.  "I love it when they bulge and get all pink and sensitive."

"I know you do, Sadist!" Cricket accused, kissed the side of Alice's head, then resettled the side of her face against the cushion of coppery curls.  "You like it when I do it to you, too."

Hannah wasn't buying it.  They were teasing her.

Alice laughed.  "We'll have to talk Jillian into keeping her naked," she said, "and then I can make sure she keeps that gorgeous tan.  She'll put me in charge of keeping her slathered in cocoa butter, if I ask."

"Hey, I get to help!" Cricket objected.

"That goes without saying," Alice chuckled, and squeezed Cricket's hand—then her smile brightened.  "I know, let's take her up to the Wench-Winch and see how she looks all hot and sweaty!"

"Without the pussy chain and titty clamps, of course," Cricket said.

What??  Hannah's eyes popped wide, then she regained their composure.

"That got her attention," Alice giggled, then grew more sober.  "No, the first time we'll just let her walk the wheel, without the added motivation.  You know how it is.  You trip on the boards if you don't keep walking."

Cricket nodded.  "She does look a little cold.  Think we can control her?"

Alice laughed.  "The way Sydney has her tied up?  We won't even need a whip... but maybe we ought to shackle her feet, just in case."

Cricket giggled.  "Sydney will be so pissed when she comes back and finds her gone."

"Ahem!"

The pixie lovers turned to face the door, and Hannah lifted her gaze.

Silhouetted in the doorway was a female figure in a green, velvet gown.  Her hair was a crimson halo, back-lit by the globes of the dungeon hallway.  She took a step into the upper chamber, and her identity was revealed: Jillian Foxwood!

"Jillian!" Alice said (with a hint of nervousness).  "So... Sydney did tell you the tour was over, after all?"

Cricket ventured a tiny, cautious wave with her right hand.

Jillian continued forward, ignoring Alice's question.  She passed the pixies, who scrunched to the side to let her pass, then crossed the lower chamber and gazed down at Hannah.  "Are you okay?" she asked, with a warm smile.

Hannah nodded.  She was bound, gagged, naked, embarrassed, and more than ready to be set free... but she decided she was, in fact, "okay".

"Hang in there a little longer," Jillian said, softly, then turned and focused on Cricket.  "Lately, you've developed a habit of wiggling out of your clothes at the slightest excuse," she observed.

"This time, it was a Royal Command," Cricket giggled.

Alice turned and rounded on her companion.  "Oh that's nice!  It's all my fault, is it?"

Cricket was still giggling.  "What choice does a lowly thrall have but to follow orders?" she inquired, batting her eyes in submissive innocence.

"Good point," Jillian conceded.  "Thrall," she continued, "fetch me a steel pillory-bar, a bear collar, and a full set of working chains, all in size one."

Alice blinked in surprise, her eyes on Hannah.  "Size one?  Hannah can't wear all that, and she's at least a size two... probably a size three.  Size one is only big enough for..."  Her gaze shifted to Jillian.  "Oh," she whispered.

Cricket jumped to her feet (still giggling), and scampered to the doorway.  "As the Lady of the Keep commands!" she called over her shoulder, then was gone.

"Jillian!" Alice complained.  "It's too dirty down here for you to put me in chains."

"I quite agree," Jillian purred.  "I'll take your gown up to the Bath Dressing Room for you.  You'll no doubt want to get cleaned up, if I ever let you out of here."

"Jillian!" Alice whined.  "We only wanted to see Hannah all naked and tied up and helpless.  We weren't really going to do something awful to her."

"Like make her trudge the Wench-Winch?" Jillian inquired.

"That was a joke," Alice said, weakly.

"Just be grateful I don't make you trudge the Wench-Winch," Jillian responded, "all afternoon, with full motivation."

Alice sighed, then turned at the clattering, clinking sound of Cricket's return.

A huge smile on her pixie face, Cricket was carrying a tangle of dark iron cuffs and chains in her right hand, and a steel bar in her left.  The bar looked heavy, and incorporated a pair of wide-walled, flush-mounted, side-by-side cuffs at either end of its rigid, two-foot length.  In addition, hanging from her left wrist and prevented from falling to the floor by the bar, she was burdened with what looked like a very thick, very wide iron collar, with a short, attached length of dangling chain.  She lugged her heavy load to the lower chamber, then dropped it on the floor in a metallic clatter.

"Help the Princess disrobe," Jillian ordered, nodding at Alice.

"Yes, M'Lady," Cricket giggled.

Alice sighed, again, then stood and reached for the buttons of her gown.

Hannah lay on her side and watched—in bound and gagged wonder—as Alice and Cricket were reduced to naked, chained captivity.

Cricket was relieved of her loincloth, and cuffs were locked around her wrists and ankles.  The manacles and shackles were tight, but Hannah could see that they were smooth, and had well-rounded edges.  Each pair was joined by about two feet of chain, and a long, central chain joined them to the ring of her collar.  Standing with her feet together and hands at her waist, she could shuffle about, but she couldn't raise her hands to her face without either stooping or kneeling.

The little brunette was accepting her condition with what Hannah considered a surprising degree of good humor.  She smiled at Hannah, and actually winked.  She's definitely a subbie, Hannah decided.  ...unlike me.

Alice, on the other hand, was not a happy camper.  After a brief argument about whether or not she should strip completely, she had finally conceded that her chemise was almost new, and shouldn't be submitted to the dirty floor.

"But it's okay to make me roll around in all this dirt and filth, isn't it?" she grumbled.

"Yes, it is," Jillian answered.

Alice looked to Cricket for moral support, but all she got was a dimpled smile and more giggles.  She sighed, stripped to the skin, and let Cricket lock her in the collar and pillory-bar.

The little redhead was now kneeling and leaning forward on her face, with her naked fanny in the air, her arms between her legs, and her elbows roughly even with her splayed knees.  Her ankles and wrists were locked in the pillory's rigid cuffs, and secured by a pair of flush-mounted locks.  Her pose was further enforced by the wide, thick-walled "bear collar" locked around her throat.  Its taut chain stretched to a ring welded to the center of the pillory.

"This is mean," the princess complained, with a theatrical sigh.

"Would you like a gag?" Jillian inquired, "or can you keep your tongue until after Hannah and I leave?"

Alice sighed, yet again.  "Okay," she whispered.

Jillian knelt and untied Hannah's ankles, then helped her to her feet.  She then untied Hannah's gag and helped her expel the cloth crammed in her mouth.

"Thanks," Hannah said, after licking her lips and working her aching jaw.

Jillian bundled Cricket's thrall costume; Alice's gown, chemise, linen loincloth, stockings, and boots; and Hannah's gag cloths.  "C'mon," she said.  "We'll get you cleaned up."

Hannah looked down at her dirt-smudged body.  "I guess I do need another bath."  She shifted her gaze to Alice's unhappy, kneeling form, then up to the grinning, closely chained Cricket.  "Uh... are you two okay?"  (Not that she was in a position to actually do anything, if either of the pair said they weren't okay.)

"We'll be fine," Cricket responded.

"No we won't!" Alice complained.  "Ow!"

Cricket had delivered a business-like, chain-encumbered kick to her lover's derrière.

Jillian used her free hand to take a couple of large coils in Hannah's leash rope, then held it before her face.  "Hold this for me, would you please?" she asked.  "I don't want you to trip on the stairs."

"As long as you say 'please'," Hannah muttered, then opened her mouth and accepted the rope coils.  The loops fell and slapped against her naked breasts.

"Follow me... please," Jillian said, with a teasing smile, and led the way towards the oubliette's open door.

As she padded across the lower chamber, climbed the stairs, and started across the upper chamber, Hannah realized she was still naked, inescapably bound, an iron collar locked around her throat, and now voluntarily re-gagged with a couple of coils of rope.  "This is a rescue, isn't it?" she mumbled through the soft rope.

Jillian laughed as she led Hannah through the door.  "Let's wait 'til we get upstairs... and it's rude to talk with something in your mouth, young lady."

Hannah's last sight of Alice was her firm, dimpled rear, upturned feet, and clenched fists.  Her last sight of Cricket was her dimpled smile; her incredibly cute, petite body; and her dark iron chains.  The little brunette waved... then Jillian closed the heavy door and turned the lock.

Chained Heat!
~~~~~~~{ or }~~~~~~~
Orgasm in the Oubliette!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

"This is no way to treat a princess," Alice pouted.  "The least she could have done is leave some of the clothing, so I could have a pillow."

"She knows I'll let you rest that pretty freckle-face on my lap," Cricket cooed.

"Well... what are you waiting for?" Alice groused.

"First things first," Cricket giggled, then carefully knelt, with a rattle of iron links, and planted a delicate kiss on Alice's left cheek... her left butt cheek, that is.

Alice sighed.  "Doggie style?" she whined.  "I hate doggie style."

"Liar!" Cricket giggled, then kissed her right butt cheek.

"I like to do it to you," Alice clarified, "but it's not proper to do a princess doggie style."

"Aren't you full of yourself," Cricket purred, then reached out and caressed her lover's flushed, glistening sex.  "Let's make you full of other things... like my fingers... and tongue."

Alice shuddered and bit her lower lip.  "I still don't know how Jillian learned it was time to rescue Hannah," she huffed.

"Easy," Cricket giggled, continuing to tease Alice's labia.  "While you were making sure Sydney wasn't coming back, I went and told Kay-bear.  I assume she's the one who told Jillian."

"You idiot!" Alice grumbled.  "You just said you were gonna tell her you'd be unable to serve lunch!"

"And so I did," Cricket said, sweetly.  "But I had to tell her why I'd be unable to serve lunch, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't!" Alice snapped, shivering in her bonds as Cricket's fingers continued to work their magic.  "This is terrible!  Jillian'll leave us in here all day... and it's cold."

"Poor baby," Cricket  whispered, and kissed her butt cheeks, again.  "I guess it's up to me to keep you warm... as in hot and bothered."

Alice shuddered, again.  "Quit foolin' around and do me," she huffed.

"You're not in a position to give orders, princess," Cricket noted.  "Now, what I will do is keep you on the edge for a while... like maybe a half-hour... then I will do you... then I'll do you again... then, I'll flip you on your back, and do you a third time... then, either you'll agree do me, or I flip you back onto your pitiful, pouting face and paddle your behind.  That's another way to keep you warm."  All the while, she was alternating tickling Alice's clitoris with sliding the edge of her palm against the little redhead's increasingly slippery labia.

"Oh...  Not like that!  Do me!" Alice begged, with a strangled whine.

"Good princesses get all the pleasure they want," Cricket whispered.  "Bad princesses get teased, unmercifully."  She withdrew her hand, and Alice shivered in her bonds.  "I almost got ahead of things, didn't I?" she asked with a taunting smirk.

Alice tried to squirm onto her side.

"None of that!" Cricket laughed, and put her hands on Alice's tiny waist, easily keeping her in place, despite the encumbrance of her chains.

"You planned this!" Alice accused.

"In great detail," Cricket agreed, "now... your first rest period is over.  Here we go again."

"Ahh!"  Alice quaked with lust as Cricket resumed her lambent, teasing massage.  "I promise to be good from now on!" The helpless redhead whined.

"You are a liar!" Cricket giggled, "but I love you.  So... one quick orgasm... then I'll torture you with frustration."

"Cruel Cricket!" Alice whispered, then gasped as her tormentor's fingers probed deeper, with a slow, rhythmic urgency.  Alice shuddered, and tugged on her inescapable bonds. 

Cricket knew Alice's most intimate person and preferences in exquisite detail.  Her dimpled smile broadened as her lover's struggles grew more desperate.  She slowly quickened the pace of her careful manipulations.  She could tell the wave of pleasure was building, and the inevitable crest was growing ever closer.

Alice's eyes clenched tightly closed, and her angelic face distorted into a grimacing mask of unendurable ecstasy.  She rocked back and forth on her knees, swinging her hips in synchrony with Cricket's slippery fingers.  Her body glistened with sweat, and her whines slowly increased in timbre and volume... until, finally, desperate screams echoed through the dark prison.  And then... she came.

"That's my princess," Cricket cooed, and did her best to prolong Alice's pleasure.

The helpless princess shivered in her bonds as Cricket caressed her back and thighs.

"There," Cricket whispered, "wasn't that nice?" She savored the way the dim light leaking through the oubliette's shuttered window played across Alice's smooth, shining, freckled back.  "Now... we'll rest a little, then resume the frustration portion of our program."

"No way... to treat... a princess," Alice panted, but a ghost of a smile curled her coral lips.