TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _by Van © 2008		_
		Chapter 11

Work continued on the oubliette project, both during Alice and Cricket's "five-day nookie famine", and afterwards.  The "miscreants" were now Hannah's main labor force, and toiled in boots, gloves, collars, and chastity belts, with short, sleeveless tunics of faux-burlap as their only clothing.  Alice's long, copper-red curls were usually combed back and tied in a ponytail, while Cricket's tousled, pixie-cut mop required no more than the occasional finger-combing to keep it in "order".

At the conclusion of each workday, the thralls were required to remove their tops, gloves, and boots, and were locked in light service chains, shackles and manacles with central chains connecting to their collars.  For the first five days, Sydney performed this duty.  Then, she would march the prisoners to the Roman Bath, give them a quick shower, and afterwards lock them in separate cells in the Stone Tower.  Kayley delivered their evening meals, which were healthy portions of whatever was on the menu.  Sydney had suggested bread and water, and Jillian had agreed, but only if her sister agreed to share the same diet and to be chained in a cell at night so she couldn't sneak down to Kayley's pantry and cheat.  This put a quick end to the "Evil Baroness's" enthusiasm for culinary punishment.  Hannah knew she'd been joking, anyway... probably.

Starting on day six, it was Hannah who carried out the duties of evening jailer, and the miscreants' routine was relaxed, as Jillian promised.  They were allowed to take their meals in the Common Room; however, they were not allowed to join the others at table.  They performed all the usual serving-thrall duties... lugging trays from the Kitchen, filling and refilling mugs and glasses... but when they finally were allowed to eat, it was from wooden bowls and with wooden spoons, while sitting on the floor.  Also, they were required to "beg" for their initial rations and all subsequent helpings.  Sydney was a lost cause, of course, making a show of enjoying Cricket and Princess Alice's downfall; but Hannah quickly gained a reputation as a "soft touch", spooning or ladling generous portions of anything her "fellow thralls" requested.

"They have to eat," the grinning Saxon explained on more than one occasion, "otherwise they can't work."

"There's always the whip," Sydney usually responded, but they all knew she was teasing... probably.

After the evening meal—including Common Room and Kitchen cleanup for the convicts, as well as all preparations for the next day's breakfast—the Foxwood family usually relaxed in the Roman Bath.  Again, the chained thralls provided any service required, including the fetching of cool drinks and evening snacks, the massage of tired muscles, and the occasional "tension relief".

Cricket quickly adapted to her punishment, but Alice's reaction was to adopt the demeanor of the Longsuffering Innocent Martyr, and this continued even after she was allowed to share a cell at night with her fellow prisoner.  The little redhead worked hard, but with a constant air of sullen, pouting ennui that was driving everyone crazy!

Finally, the evening of day seven, even Cricket had had enough.  In the middle of dinner she politely excused herself, took Alice firmly by the ear, and dragged her whining, complaining lover to the far side of the room.  The others watched, with surreptitious glances and carefully suppressed smiles, as the diminutive pixie read the riot act to her equally diminutive partner.  Finally, after about a minute, the pair returned.  From that point on, Alice was the very picture of the Brave Prisoner and endured her captivity with unbroken spirit, much to the relief of everyone in the Foxwood family.

Work continued, and the rising shell of concrete blocks slowly climbed the walls of the oubliette, course by course, until it approached the entrance level and the laying of the ceiling/floor joists drew near.  The required timbers were on hand, but the steel brackets that would anchor their ends to the walls were not.  Each bracket would bolt in place and then be completely hidden behind the blocks of the shell, but fabricating the custom steel supports was beyond the capability of Hannah's workshop.  Alice had produced drawings and the required specifications and an order had been placed with Archer Metals, the firm that handled Foxwood's metalworking needs, but the brackets had yet to arrive.

One night, when the requirement was actually threatening to interrupt progress, Hannah broached the subject at dinner.

"Not to worry," Jillian responded.  "I talked to Cody yesterday and your brackets are ready for pick up.  We'll take your truck down there tomorrow.  Something else I ordered months ago is also ready."

Hannah nodded, and forked a bite of chicken marsala into her mouth.

"You're going into Eureka?" Alice asked.  "Can I—"

"No, you can't," Jillian interrupted.  "I'm afraid the good townspeople wouldn't take kindly to half-naked thralls in chains wandering the streets."

"Jillian," Alice whined.  "You could let us off for one day, couldn't you?"

Cricket was pouring red wine into Kayley's glass.  She kept her tongue, but was very interested in the conversation.

"I could..." Jillian agreed.  "But I won't."

Alice and Cricket sighed, and continued their serving-wench duties.

"What I will do is give you a day off from hard labor."

"Goody!" Alice squealed, and Cricket smiled.

"You are such a softie," Sydney muttered, as she sipped her wine.

"They can't very well lay blocks when my Master Artisan isn't here to supervise," Jillian responded, "now can they?"

Sydney shrugged, then took a bite of salad.

"Besides," Jillian continued, "didn't you request a 'special' day so you could test some of your new shibari ideas?"

Alice and Cricket froze in place... then continued working.

Sydney smiled.  "Sis," she purred, "I take it back... the 'softie' remark, I mean."

Hannah watched the others reactions with amusement.  The "Bobbsey Twins" might be worried, but Kayley caught her eye and winked, and Constance favored her with a dimpled smile.  Hannah grinned and resumed eating.

"Well," Jillian said, smiling at her sister, "you have your special day and your 'volunteers'—but don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Alice and Cricket sighed, exchanged a sad glance, and rolled their eyes.  Clearly, they were not reassured.

The next day dawned clear and cool.  After the usual hearty breakfast, Hannah and Jillian headed for the Mews.  Jillian was carrying a garment bag.  Hannah left her in the Changing Room, then headed for her apartment.  She removed her kilt, boots, top, bracers, and loincloth, and changed into modern underwear, a pair of faded jeans, work boots, and a light blue chambray workshirt.  Her hair remained plaited in her now customary "Saxon braids".  She grabbed a blue cotton bandanna and clattered down the stairs to the garage.

Jillian had changed into a pair of designer jeans, a snap-front Western shirt in faded turquoise, and a buckskin vest with a wool yoke woven in an Indian blanket pattern that complemented her shirt.

"Very pretty," Hannah said with a grin.

"Pendleton," Jillian explained, "from the Early Fall catalog."

Hannah's right hand went to her collar.  "Uh, if you don't mind?"  When Hannah left the compound, she did so without her thrall's collar.  It was too much of a kinky fashion statement away from the medieval/fantasy world of Foxwood.

"It would be my pleasure," Jillian purred, then stepped behind Hannah and unlocked the collar's rear fitting.

As soon as the iron torus was removed, Hannah whipped her bandanna into a narrow scarf and tied it around her throat.  Hours of sunbathing and skinny-dipping in the pond had preserved her all-over tan, with the exception of the narrow band of skin under her collar.  The bandanna was required to hide this otherwise difficult-to-explain tan line.

"You'll like Cody," Jillian said, as they climbed into Hannah's pickup.  Jillian still had her garment bag, which she tucked behind her seat.

"Our kind of people?" Hannah asked, with a wry smile.

Jillian grinned.  "Ms. Archer has been known to visit the Foxwood Inn."

"Under which banner?" Hannah inquired with a coy grin.

Jillian favored her Master Artisan with an enigmatic smile.  "Overly inquisitive thralls often find themselves 'volunteering' for Sydney's practice sessions, you know."

"I'm sooo frightened," Hannah muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Jillian demanded.

Hannah favored her boss with her sweetest smile, and batted her eyes.  "I said, 'I'm sooo enlightened'," she lied.

Jillian chuckled.  "Whatever."

Hannah turned the ignition, then tapped the buttons on the remote clipped to the truck's visor that opened the Mews garage door and Foxwood's main gate.

The drive into Eureka took most of an hour, and they arrived a little after nine.

Their destination was a complex of sheds and small buildings surrounded by a tall chain link fence topped by coils of ribbon-wire.  It was unremarkable, similar to any number of small manufacturing establishments in Hannah's experience.  An exception was the sign above the main gate.  It was heavy, powder-coated iron with the words "Archer Metals" arching between two stout posts; but it incorporated a striking iron sculpture of an archer bending a longbow.

"Nice work!" Hannah said, nodding up at the sign.

"Cody is both metalworker and sculptor," Jillian explained.  "As to which of her talents is the more lucrative... I suppose that's her business."

Hannah nodded towards a small building bearing the sign "OFFICE".  A woman dressed in a grubby blue coverall was emerging from the door.  "Is that her?"

The woman's brown hair was pulled back and tucked under a red baseball cap.  Her face was smudged and dirty, but this did nothing to detract from her high-cheeked, blue-eyed beauty.  In fact, in Hannah's opinion, she was stunningly beautiful.  Even in her unflattering garb it was clear she had a lithe, athletic figure, and her breasts were putting a mild (and provocative) strain on her coverall's top buttons.

"That's Cody," Jillian confirmed, then opened her door and climbed from the pickup.  "Hey there, beautiful!" she gushed, and opened her arms.

"Careful, Red," the newcomer laughed.  "I'm a mess."  She leaned close and gave Jillian a delicate kiss on the lips, then took a step back and smiled at Hannah.

Jillian made the introductions.  "Hannah Blair, Cody Archer."

"Pleased to meet you," Hannah grinned, and took Cody's hand.

"Same," Cody responded.  "Sorry for the welding grime."

"Not a problem," Hannah laughed.  "I work for a living."

"Is that a dig?" Jillian inquired.

"Oh, no, Your Ladyship!" Hannah answered.

"C'mon," Cody chuckled, and gestured towards a nearby shed.  "I'll show you your brackets."

Cody used a small forklift to move the wooden pallet with the dozen heavy brackets and lift it onto the bed of Hannah's truck.  From the clatter and welding sparks coming from at least two of the sheds, Hannah could tell Cody had other employees, but their brunette boss was the only soul they actually encountered.

"And that other order we discussed?" Jillian asked as Cody jumped down from the forklift.

"It's in the art shed," Cody responded and led the way to a cinder block building at the back of the compound.  The sound of work in progress faded as they passed sheltered racks of metal stock and approached the building's solid steel door.  It was secured by a hefty hasp and a high security padlock.

"In the back?" Jillian asked, and Cody nodded.  "Would you give us a few minutes?" Jillian continued.

"No problem," Cody answered as she unlocked the padlock, then used another key to unlock the door, itself.  "I'll be in the office," she said, and walked away.

Hannah watched, with a puzzled frown, as Cody departed, then followed Jillian through the door.  The space beyond was reasonably clean, but suffered from the cluttered, ordered chaos of any active workspace.  Workbenches, cabinets, and racks of tools, clamps, and metal stock lined the walls.  A nearby bench held the incomplete framework of a hanging light fixture in the Foxwood style.  "Is that it?"

"The other job?"Jillian responded, and shook her head.  "No, I'm pretty sure that's part of our routine standing order.  I believe that one will replace an old fixture in one of the Guest Wing staircases.  We're here to see something else."  She walked over to a rack and picked up four six-foot lengths of rope.

Hannah eyed the rope, then the wry smile on Jillian's face.  "What?" she demanded.

"I usually don't conduct indoctrination sessions away from Foxwood," Jillian responded, "but this is a unique opportunity."

Hannah's eyes popped wide.  "Jillian!  Are you insane?"

"Merely unbalanced," Jillian laughed.  She draped all but one of the hanks of rope over shoulders and neck, then, she locked eyes with Hannah.  "If you're to complete your 'damsel merit badge'." she explained, "and start playing an active or inactive part in entertaining our special guests, I need to know you can handle the unexpected.  More importantly, I need to know you won't panic in the presence of strangers."

Hannah felt her face burn in a serious blush, probably the first time she remembered feeling embarrassed in Jillian's presence since her earliest days at Foxwood.  "This is... different," she said.

"You know I'll never let anything happen to you," Jillian said with a cajoling smile, "anything bad, I mean."

"There are several different meanings to the word 'bad'," Hannah noted, then sighed, turned her back, and crossed her wrists behind her back.  "I must be the crazy one."

Jillian quickly bound Hannah's wrists.  She completed the final knot, then leaned close until her lips were less than an inch from Hannah's right ear.  "I meant 'bad' in the harmful sense, of course," she said quietly.  "Nothing harmful will happen."  She led her captive to the center of the workshop and under a chain hoist mounted on a rail overhead.  She knelt and loosely bound Hannah's booted ankles with a second length of rope, then stood, took a step back, and crossed her arms across her chest.  "Now," she said with a coy smile, "as my sweet sister has already taught you, controlling a struggling damsel can be something of a challenge."

"Oh, should I be struggling?" Hannah inquired.  Her cheeks were still burning and her pulse pounding, but she knew she was more excited than frightened.

"I'd just as soon you didn't," Jillian chuckled, "but I still intend to demonstrate one of my favorite control techniques."

"And that would be?"

"You know the classic starting move of any of Sydney's ties?" Jillian asked.

"Of course," Hannah huffed.  "Double the rope, find the center, and take a lark's head around whatever you're tying."

"Exactly," Jillian confirmed.  "It works with hair, as well."

"Oh, goody," Hannah muttered.  "I can tell this is going to be fun."

Jillian lifted Hannah's left braid and took a lark's head around the middle.  "I know this is difficult for you to see, so I'll explain."  She continued manipulating the braid and rope as she lectured.  "You make a start, fold the hair back over itself... and tie a second lark's head over both hanks... then you secure everything with a half-hitch.  Understand?"

"I think so—ow!  Hey, watch it!"

Jillian had given Hannah's bound braid a firm tug.  "Just demonstrating the control aspect," she purred.  "This works with loose hair and with braids, but not with really short hair, like Cricket's, of course."

"Of course," Hannah agreed, "which is probably why she keeps hers short."

"Now," Jillian continued, "do I have to bind both braids, or do you get the point?"

"That you're as a sadistic bitch, like your sister?" Hannah groused.

Jillian laughed.  "No, that bound hair can be a useful handling tool."  She tied a figure-eight knot in the free end of the doubled rope, then reached up and dropped the resulting loop over the dangling hook of the chain hoist.  "A noose around the throat works just as well, but I don't like using potentially lethal elements in any of our scenarios, however remote the possibility of mishap."

"Yeah," Hannah agreed.  "Wouldn't want poor Hannah to hang herself, would we?  Much better she falls and yanks out half her hair by the root."

"Much better," Jillian chuckled.  "Actually, much better poor Hannah stands perfectly still.  You'll notice your ankles are more hobbled than bound.  It's to prevent you from kicking, actually.  Feel free to shuffle around and maintain your balance."

"Thanks," Hannah huffed, "how very kind."

Jillian strolled to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and withdrew a neatly folded shop cloth.  Obviously, this wasn't her first visit to Cody Archer's art shed.  Hannah watched as she returned, shaking out the soft, red fabric square and bunching it into a loose wad.

"Say ah," Jillian purred, and stuffed the cloth wad into Hannah's unresisting mouth.  "Good girl," she whispered, as she tamped and tucked the cloth until it completely filled the captive's oral cavity.  "Hold that for me," she said, as she untied Hannah's bandanna and stepped behind her.  She centered the narrowly folded bandanna over Hannah's mouth, pulled the center between her teeth and over the wad, and tied a cinch at the nape of her neck.  "Good girl," she whispered, again, and tied a square knot.  She stepped back to the front and smiled at her prisoner.  "Perfect.  Bulging cheeks, strained lips, white teeth, just a peek of red stuffing behind the tight band of blue cotton... You have such a pretty gag-face, Hannah.  Did you know that?"  She leaned close and kissed Hannah's forehead.  At the same time, she reached between her captive's legs and rubbed her hand over Hannah's denim-clad sex.

Hannah shuddered and whined through her gag.

"Scream for me, Hannah," Jillian whispered, and kissed her right cheek.  "Scream, or I'll find something I can use as a whip and make you scream."

Hannah twisted her bound wrists, put her head back until the rope tied in her braid went taut, and screamed through her gag.  She knew Jillian was only joking about the whip.  She was playing her part as Villainess of their little melodrama, just as Hannah was playing her part as Distressed Damsel.  Jillian put one arm around her waist, continued her intimate caress with the other, and nuzzled her neck.  Hannah continued testing her bonds and trying to make noise.  She could tell her efforts were totally futile, both in terms of escape and summoning help.  Jillian's ropes were as inescapable as Sydney's, and the gag reduced her most desperate cries to pathetically well-muffled bleats.

"You are mine, Saxon princess," Jillian whispered, as she nibbled Hannah's ear and continued rubbing her sex.  "No one can hear you, and you can't get away."

Hannah writhed in place, continuing to tug on her wrist bonds and mewl through her gag as Jillian caressed her sex.  She thrust her hips against her captor's hand and shivered in delight—then whined in frustration as Jillian released her embrace, stepped to the front, and once again crossed her arms under her breasts.

"You've come a long way, Hannah," Jillian said.  "Time was, you'd be more worried about any perceived weakness on your part than whether or not I was willing to get you off."

Hannah blushed again, then asserted what she hoped was an expression of Stern Outrage—but she could tell Jillian wasn't fooled.  After several seconds... Hannah sighed and let her head drop.  It was true.  She had come a long way.

"You understand you can be strong and submissive," Jillian continued, "that you can surrender control without surrendering your toughness; that your freedom is a gift that can be given, returned, and given again; and that both sides of the equation have their rewards, and their responsibilities."  She reached out, lifted Hannah's chin, and gazed into her eyes.  "Do you trust me, Hannah?" she whispered.

Trust you?  Hannah thought.  I love you.  She nodded her head.

Jillian sighed, and a blush colored her cheeks.  "Treasure beyond gold," she whispered.  "Treasure beyond diamonds."  She walked back to the rack and returned with several neatly coiled hanks of rope.  She dropped them to the floor at Hannah's booted feet, then reached for the top button of the captive's workshirt.  "And your journey continues," she purred.

Hannah's eyes popped wide and she whined through her gag.  Her eyes begged for Jillian to stop as her captor worked her way down the front of the shirt, releasing the buttons, one by one.

"Settle down," Jillian chuckled, as she released Hannah's belt buckle.  "It's a little late for objections.  But please, continue your pointless efforts to escape.  It's entertaining.  So, by all means, wiggle and moan.  It won't make any difference."  She reached under Hannah's gaping shirt and gave her bra-clad breasts a gentle squeeze.  "I know how to handle a captive."

Peeling Hannah out of her clothes was the work of several minutes.  Hannah didn't struggle, other than for the required effect, but Jillian took no chances and that complicated the process.  She pulled Hannah's shirt and bra over her shoulders and down her arms until they were a tangle around her bound wrists.  Her jeans and panties were next, and soon they formed a disorderly pile around her booted feet.

Jillian selected a long length of rope from the pile and began tying a box-tie harness around Hannah's arms, shoulders, and torso.  "I know everyone calls this Sydney's favorite tie," Jillian purred as she hitched the free ends under the rope at the nape of Hannah's neck, "but who do you think taught it to her?"  She pulled down, tightening the ropes until Hannah grunted in complaint, threaded the ends through the cluster of hitches centered over the captive's spine, then neatly wrapped the remaining rope up and around the vertical run and tied the final knot.

Jillian embraced Hannah from behind, reached around her body, and clutched her naked breasts.  "I'm going to untie your wrists," she whispered in Hannah's right ear, "and you're going to fold your arms behind your back and hold them there, forearm-against-forearm, while I complete your bondage."  She gave Hannah's nipples a gentle pinch, and nibbled her earlobe.  "I'll be very cruel if you disobey."

Hannah shivered in Jillian's arms, and sighed through her gag.  It was all part of the game, of course.  Her heart was still racing and her sex was tingling.  She was at once aroused and embarrassed, and it was horrible (and wonderful).

Hannah's wrists were untied, her shirt and bra pulled away, and her arms folded against her back.  Jillian wrapped turn after turn of rope around her forearms, until they were bound in a continuous tube of closely spaced coils.  The final rosette knot was tied well out of the reach of her fluttering fingers.  

Jillian dealt with Hannah's legs next.  She bound them tightly together, above the knees, then released her ankles, pulled her jeans and panties from around her boots, and tossed them atop her other clothing.  Next, she unlaced and removed Hannah's boots and added them to the pile.  Finally, she removed Hannah's socks, and now the Saxon Princess was completely nude, except for her gag and rope bonds.

Jillian retied Hannah's ankles, and this time the tightly wrapped and cinched rope could not even remotely be called a hobble.  She stood and looped one end of a short coil of rope through the junction of rope at the nape of Hannah's neck, then passed the remaining length through the hook of the chain hoist.  She pulled in the slack until the rope was taut, then tied a flurry of knots.  "There," she purred as she released Hannah's bound braid.  "Now you can't fall, and you're a much prettier distressed damsel with the tips of your braids just brushing your nipples."  She arranged the braids so they did just that.

Hannah glared at Jillian, then took a deep, breast heaving and rope tightening breath, and shook her head.  Her braids lifted, fluttered, and flopped to either side of her breasts.

"Naughty girl," Jillian chuckled, then shook out the six-foot length of rope she had just untied and stepped behind Hannah's bound form.  "Hold still," she ordered.

Hannah sighed through her gag, then her eyes popped wide and she forced a startled "Nrfh!" past her gag as Jillian looped the rope around her head, under her braids, and over her cleave-gagged lips, several times, and cinched it tight.  Hannah's head was now pinned against the vertical rope linking her to the chain hoist.

"Much better," Jillian whispered, then stepped back to the front and smiled at her captive.  "I still think you look better with your braids touching your nipples, but you can still squirm and spoil things.  Hmm... I'm sure Cody must have a reel of thin wire around here somewhere.  I can twist some around your nipples, and then around your braid tips.  That will keep them where I want them."

Hannah glared at Jillian again.  She's just trying to scare me, she thought, but I know she won't do anything like that... will she?

Jillian walked to a workbench and held up a length of stiff wire.  "No," she muttered, and tossed it back on the bench.  "I need something much thinner."  She turned and walked towards the door.  "I'll be back," she said, as she made her exit.  "Wait here."

The door closed with a slam.  Hannah squirmed and struggled, testing her bonds.  'Wait here'.  Hilarious.

Hannah continued testing her bonds for several minutes.  It passed the time, even though she knew it was an entirely futile exercise.  I can't believe she did this to me, she thought.  A dedicated runner, Hannah could tell her heart rate was still elevated... but not by much.  Her nipples were erect, and her sex was damp.  A shiver of delight at the memory of Jillian's strong, slender hand rubbing the front of her jeans passed through the sex in question.  Okay, she admitted to herself, I'm wet... I'm hot... I'm a horn-dog.  I want her to come back in here and finish what she started.  Naked, bound, and gagged, in a place which, while not exactly public, was not Foxwood, the element of danger, of being discovered in her current state by a stranger, was fueling her arousal.  It was embarrassment with a spicy edge she'd never felt before.  When we get home, she decided, I'll have to do something about this.  I wonder if I can talk Kayley into helping.  I know Sydney and the scholar will be up for 'The Revenge of the Saxon Princess'.  It's probably been a very long time since Her Ladyship found herself on the receiving end of anything special.

Suddenly, the door began to open.  She felt her cheeks blush, her heart beat faster, and that thrill between her legs was back in spades.  Oh god!  The figure silhouetted in the open door was wearing coveralls and a red ball cap.  She took a step forward, closed the door behind her—and it was Cody Archer!!

Hannah shivered in her bonds.  Oh god!!

Cody strolled towards the helpless prisoner.  "My oh my," she chuckled.  "What have we here?"  A wry smile curled her lips as she examined every square inch of Hannah's bound and gagged form,  Her boots tapped on the concrete floor as she walked a slow circuit around the mortified captive.  "Very nice body," she purred, reached out, and cupped Hannah's naked, rope-framed breasts.

Hannah went stock still and locked eyes with Cody, then shivered when she began a gentle massage of the tan globes.

"Firm," Cody whispered, "and I love your all-over tan.  I wish I had time to sunbathe next to Jillian's pond all day."

"Now, be fair," a familiar voice intoned.  Jillian was standing in the doorway.  A gloating smile on her lips, she strolled forward.  "Hannah is a hardworking thrall.  She can be spirited and stubborn, but I hardly ever have to use the whip."

"I imagine she's quite popular with guests who request the services of a personal servant," Cody chuckled, "by which I mean the personal services of a personal servant, of course."

"I know what you mean," Jillian responded.  "I know how your mind works."  She pointed at Cody's kneading hands.  "You're getting grime all over my nice clean thrall."

"Sorry," Cody chuckled, released her hold, and walked to a nearby workbench.  She opened a plastic jar of waterless hand cleaner, scooped out a small dollop, then rubbed her hands together.  She then wiped them with a shop cloth, scooped out another dollop, and strolled back to Hannah with the cloth over one forearm.  "Here," she purred, "let me make it better."   She rubbed her hands together and resumed her massage of Hannah's breasts.

Hannah gazed down at Cody's slick, glistening hands as they slid over her now slick, glistening breasts.  The experience was incredible—the gentle kneading, her embarrassment at being handled by a stranger, Jillian's gloating presence—incredible!

"Are you going to do that all day?" Jillian asked.

"In a perfect world," Cody muttered, then ceased her "cleansing" of Hannah's breasts and used the cloth to first wipe her hands, then Hannah's breasts.  She paid close attention to the nipples, giving the erect nubbins a careful rubdown with the soft cloth.  Finally, she tossed the cloth to a nearby workbench and hefted Hannah's breasts, again.  "Mind if I tie up these pretty things?" she inquired, in a casual manner.

Hannah's eyes popped wide and she forced a questioning whine through her gag.

"Not too tight," Jillian answered.  "Just a little color.'

Hannah whined again, then watched Cody walk to a workbench and return with a coil of thin cord.

"A hint of pink, and no more," Cody purred, "I promise."  She pulled a lark's head through the rope bands above and below Hannah's breasts, then tightened the cord until the bands were pulled together and pinched the base of both breasts.  Then, she tied a half-hitch to keep the cord tight, separated the free ends, and used one cord to wrap turn after turn around Hannah's right breast.  She tucked the end under the upper rope bands to keep it tight, then used the remaining end to wrap the base of Hannah's left breast.  Finally, the two cords were crossed over Hannah's sternum, separated and passed over her shoulders, and knotted together at the nape of her neck.

Hannah lowered her gaze to her breasts, to the limit allowed by the rope reinforcing her cleave-gag.  They bulged in their rope and cord bonds, and they were a little pink, as Cody had promised; but their shapes weren't that distorted.  There was also a slight tingling sensation, and her nipples seemed to be even more erect than they'd been before, but it might just be her imagination.

"Pretty," Jillian said, and took a step forward.  "Sydney's trained you well."  She clutched her fingers, like claws, then ever so lightly scratched her nails across the surface of Hannah's breasts.

Hannah gasped and shivered in her bonds.  The mild compression had rendered the skin hyper-sensitive.  Okay, I'm not imagining it, she realized.  A piteous whine escaped her gag, and she continued to writhe and struggle.

"Don't worry," Jillian purred, as she continued to tease Hannah's breasts and nipples.  "These little gals have to turn bright pink, or even mauve, and bulge like water balloons before this becomes dangerous; but that's a short-term game.  This is longterm."

Cody embraced Hannah from behind, and began running her hands over the captive's abdomen and thighs.  "I can vouch for that," she whispered in Hannah's ear.  "The mauve part, anyway.  Sydney delights in tying up my breasts, after the capture part of one of my scenarios kicks in."

'Capture'? Hannah wondered, continuing to shudder and fight her bonds.  Sydney ties her up when she's at Foxwood?

"Of course she ties up your breasts," Jillian laughed.  "They're such nice breasts."

The breasts in question were pressed against Hannah's bound hands and arms, and there was no question in the captive's increasingly fevered mind that they were, indeed, "nice".

"Anyway," Jillian continued, "this is a longterm game, as I said, so you'll have to see what having tightly bound sweater-puppies feels like another time."  She dropped her hands and took a step back.

Cody continued stroking her tummy and thighs.  "I'm sure if you ask Sydney really nicely..." she whispered.

"I think I'm ready to see my special order," Jillian said.

"Gimme a minute, will ya?" Cody chuckled, and let her right hand glide to Hannah's sex.  "Oh, wet weasel!" she sighed, as she slid the edge of her palm against Hannah's labia.

Hannah whined through her gag, again, and thrust her hips forwards, pressing her sex and thighs against Cody's hand.

"Randy thing, isn't she?" Cody purred.

"Ahem."  Jillian cleared her throat.

"Okay, okay," Cody laughed, released her embrace and strode to the far end of the room.  "The customer is always right."

Jillian smiled at Hannah.  "You've come a long way," she sighed, "as I said before."

Meanwhile, Cody had grabbed the edge of the dust cover draped over a slender, rectangular object, and jerked it free.

Hannah's eyes popped wide.  The object revealed was a cage of closely-spaced, vertical and horizontal iron bars.  It was narrow and about six feet in height, roughly the size of a gym locker, or a coffin standing on one end; however, its sides were curved in a vaguely hour-glass shape.

Jillian turned and clapped in applause.  "Oh, brava!" she gushed.  "Bring it over.  Do you need my help?"

Cody gave a modest bow, acknowledging her patron's praise.  "No," she answered, and wheeled the cage forward.  Its base was a wooden platform on heavy casters.

"Uh, I wanted a hanging cage," Jillian said.

"And you've got one," Cody responded.  "The base is just for moving it around.  It separates."  She pointed at the heavy ring at the cage's vertex.  "And there's your hanging point."

Hannah could see heavy hinges along one vertical edge, and three hasps evenly spaced on the opposite side.

Cody released the hasps, one by one, and swung the cage open.  The hinges squealed as the curved front half opened like a hungry clam.  She smiled at Hannah.  "I assume you'll require a demonstration before accepting delivery?"

"Of course," Jillian purred, stepped behind Hannah, and began untying the rope linking her to the hook of the chain hoist.

Hannah squirmed and mewled through her gag.

"Don't be silly, thrall," Jillian laughed.  "Of course you're going in my new cage.  Why else do you think I brought you along?"

In short order, Hannah was inside the cage.  She remained naked, bound from shoulders to ankles, and gagged, of course.  The hinges protested with more oil-hungry squeals as Cody closed the cage door, and now Hannah was virtually encased in a tiny, close-fitting cell of heavy iron.  She had precious little room to spare in any direction—front, sides, and back—and none of the gaps between the horizontal and vertical bars were greater than six-by-six inches.

Cody snapped the hasps closed, one-by-one, then fitted antique padlocks through each hasp and clicked them shut.  "I found a new supplier of replica locks," she told Jillian.  "They'll produce anything you like to match your existing keys."

Jillian lifted one of the padlocks, then let it drop.  "Very nice.  Have them send me a catalog.  I'll let you negotiate for wholesale prices, of course."

"Of course," Cody said, then reached up and secured the chain hoist's hook through the cage's top ring.  She then knelt and pulled four iron pins from the base of the cage platform.

Jillian had stepped to the side and unhooked the chain hoist's pull-chain from the wall.  "Allow me," she purred, and began pulling the chain through the hoist's pulley.

Hannah looked up as the chain overhead went taut.  There was a scraping noise from the base, the cage shuddered, and then lifted free and began to swing and sway.  Cody grabbed the side to keep the cage steady, and Jillian continued pulling on the chain.  Hannah's iron cocoon rose until its base was about three feet off the floor.

Cody wheeled the platform away and slid it under a bench, then began folding Hannah's clothes and stuffing them in a plastic trash bag.  "You brought a skirt, like you said?" she asked Jillian.

"And some heels," Her Ladyship answered, "in a garment bag in the thrall's truck."  She smiled at Hannah.  "We're staying in town, today," she announced.  "Cody and I are going shopping for clothes, and tonight we're all going out for dinner."  She reached through the bars and placed her right hand on top of Hannah's bare feet.  "I'll find a nice outfit for you, too.  My treat."

"Don't worry about the fit," Cody said, and held up the trash bag.  "We've got your sizes."

"And don't worry about style," Jillian continued, patting Hannah's feet.  "You'll look great... once we let you out of my new cage and clean you up."  She turned to Cody.  "Ready to go?  And only you have access to this place, right?"

Cody's gloating gaze was on Hannah.  "My people already know I'm taking the rest of the day off."  She nodded towards the workshop's steel door.  "And yes, only I have the keys to the door and padlock."  She turned to Jillian.  "What'll it be, tonight?  Babetta's, Café Marina, or Cocina?"

Jillian smiled up at Hannah.  "We'll let the thrall choose."  She gave Hannah's feet a final pat, then took a step back.  "Italian, seafood, or Mexican, Hannah.  You have all day to decide.  Bye."  She spun on her heel and headed for the door.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Hannah," Cody said, "and to tie up those magnificent tits."  She glanced at Jillian's back, then winked and continued, in a whisper.  "But don't count on getting payback anytime soon.  I'm very particular about who I play with when I visit Foxwood."

Hannah stared in surprise.  From her manner, it was unclear whether Cody had just delivered a warning... or an invitation.

"But when the fates are unkind," Jillian said, "and a distressed damsel finds herself in a tight situation, she often has little choice in such matters."  Obviously, she had heard Cody's last statement.

Cody's smile took a wry twist, and she shrugged.  "Point taken," she muttered, winked again, then followed Jillian to the door, trash bag in hand.

"Remember," Jillian called from the threshold, "Italian, seafood, or Mexican."

The door closed with a solid thunk, and Hannah heard the heavy-duty hasp being closed and the high-security padlock snapping shut... followed by silence.

The overhead lights were off, but there was a small skylight nearly directly overhead.  Hannah sighed, and let her body relax against the iron bars—then she gasped and leaned back, away from the cage door.  Her "magnificent tits", as Cody had deemed them, had brushed against the rough iron bars.  Okay, the iron wasn't really rough, but her bound breasts were very sensitive.  She glanced down at the globes in question.  They were still a little pink, and the ropes and cord were making them bulge, but they weren't too bad.  Another of Jillian's indoc tests, she decided, to let me see what it's like to have the girls tied up like this.  She heaved a deep sigh, then shuddered when the action caused her nipples to brush the bars.  She willed herself to stand perfectly still.  Or maybe she has more of a mean streak than I thought... like her sister.

Hannah sighed, again—carefully, this time—then let her gagged head rest against the bars.  Jillian's right, she mused.  I've come a long way.  I may be a subbie, but I know I'm strong.  Not strong enough to get out of these ropes or this cage, of course... but strong... or at least I don't mind, any more, that I'm a subbie.  She closed her eyes and tried to take a nap.  Hmm... shrimp for dinner would be nice... but as fajitas? ...beer battered and fried? ...or sautéed in butter with lemon and garlic and served over fresh pasta?  Decisions, decisions.

Hannah did take her nap, and she enjoyed a very pleasant dream, in which she spent a lazy afternoon in one of the Stone Tower's torture chambers, assisting Sydney in the erotic exploration, titillation, and torment of a very naked and helpless Cody Archer.