by Van ©2013
standing in the hallway of the formal entrance of the
castle. It was not the castle's original gatehouse, with
its drawbridge and portcullis, but the "modern" entryway that
had been added much later, probably at a time when wig powder
was a significant line-item on the castle's operating
budget. Anyway, a tree-lined drive approached the castle
and terminated in a gravel turnaround. There, an elegant
footbridge crossed the moat and afforded access to a set of
broad double doors framed by Gothic stone carvings of Lord and
Lady Tydwells of centuries past. Whatever the historical
details, Corky was next to Mistress Edna on the interior side of
the open portals... waiting.
Back in the Handmaiden's Hole, when the five minutes allotted
for Corky's morning toilette had passed, the Dragon Lady,
herself, had appeared and "accessorized" Corky's costume of
canvas and leather-trimmed straitjacket, bare, freckled legs,
and unruly mop of ginger curls. Specifically, she added
padded ankle cuffs with a hobbling strap in butternut leather
that matched the trim of her jacket—a thick, wide collar with an
attached leash, also in matching butternut—and a strip of
off-white, microfoam tape that hugged Corky's lower face from
nostrils-to-chin and ear-to-ear. Corky had caught a
glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror as she minced by
on her bare feet at the end of Edna's leash, and noted that the
outline of her closed lips was clearly visible under the strip
Corky O'Brien was a sexy, helpless mess—and not a
suitable breakfast companion for Lady Tydwell—not in Corky's
opinion, anyway... not that her opinion mattered.
Anyway, they left Corky's new bedroom, crossed Mistress
Cressida's bedroom, and made their way through the castle to the
formal entrance hallway. And then... they waited.
One minute turned into two... then three... and finally Her
Ladyship breezed in from a side door. She was wearing a
sky-blue summer dress, white sandals with high heels, and a
white, airy, broad-brimmed hat with a sky-blue ribbon.
Lady Jane was beautiful, as always, and Corky blushed in
mortification. I'm a mess, she thought,
miserably. She was only a junior maid. Yes, she was
the new Personal Handmaiden of Her Ladyship's daughter;
but still, only a maid. It wasn't like her appearance
really mattered. However, like all the staff, Corky took
pride in her appearance—when allowed—and would never
appear before Her Ladyship in anything like her current
condition by choice. Corky attempted the required curtsey
and nearly tripped on her hobble, but she managed to
recover. The amused curl of Lady Jane's smile did nothing
to alleviate her embarrassment.
Mistress Edna had watched Corky's bumbling attempt at courtesy
with a disapproving stare. She focused on Her Ladyship and
opened her mouth to speak—but was preempted by Lady Jane placing
her right forefinger against her lips.
"My mind is made up," Her Ladyship purred, then withdrew her
finger, leaned close, and kissed Edna's right cheek.
Just then, through the open doors, they heard the distant crunch
of wheels on gravel, turned to look—and Corky's eyes popped wide
in astonishment! "Mrrrf?"
In the turnaround beyond the bridge a carriage was
approaching. It was a rather small, two-wheeled model with
a bench in front for the driver and an empty seat behind for
would be passengers. And drawing the carriage were—four
They were the first actual ponygirls Corky had ever
seen, and even at this distance she could make out most of the
details of their costumes. From top to bottom, they were
wearing (were restrained in): (1) Headstalls or
bridles. Corky was unsure of the correct vernacular.
The networks of straps anchored bits in their mouths, caged
their heads, and included blinders to limit their peripheral
vision. Long reins attached to either end of the bits
trailed back to the driver. (2) Body harnesses with
horizontal, vertical, and lateral straps that yoked their
shoulders and hugged their torsos above and below their bare
breasts, around their waists, and through their crotches.
(3) Pouch-like arm-binders that encased their folded arms behind
their backs and were either anchored to or were part of the
body-harnesses. (4) Thigh-boots of black-leather with
horseshoe-shaped soles and elevated heels. Everything was
in black leather with shining steel hardware.
The four ponies—the four women, Corky corrected
herself—were two blonds and two brunettes. Both brunettes
had dark complexions and long hair combed back in (appropriately
enough) ponytails. One of the blonds also had a long
ponytail, but the other did not. Her honey-blond hair was
cropped short. Corky frowned. She thought she
recognized the ponies as four of her fellow domestics, but the
distance was great and the head-harnesses and bits partially
obscured their features. She wasn't quite sure.
The driver Corky did recognize. She was Pippa the
stable girl, the blond youngster in charge of Her Ladyship's
ponygirl stables. The stables in question were actually a
wing of the castle's horse stables, and Pippa was actually a
junior member of the stable staff, a mere groom. Corky had
met her during her junior maid orientation tour of the castle
and grounds, but the tiny, devilishly cute pixie didn't
sleep with the rest of the staff. This was only the second
time Corky had actually seen Pippa, but the other maids had
explained that when guests (or wayward maids) were sentenced to
the stables, Pippa the stable-girl became Mistress
In any case, the smiling little blond was wearing knee-boots,
tan jodhpurs, a black blazer over a white blouse, black gloves,
and a black bowler. The four sets of reins were in her
left hand and a buggy whip in her right. As Corky watched,
Pippa reined in the ponies and the carriage came to a
halt. She tied off the reins, returned the whip to its
holder, and jumped from the driver's seat, ready to act as
"If you need me," Her Ladyship said to Mistress Edna, "we'll be
in the meadow below the family tombs."
Corky's leash snapped taut and Her Ladyship led her across the
threshold and towards the bridge and the waiting carriage.
"Enjoy your breakfast," Edna called after them.
"I'm sure we shall," Lady Jane answered.
As she shuffled in Her Ladyship's wake, Corky's eyes popped
wide, again. What did she say? 'The family
tombs?' It was a glorious summer morning and the sun
was hot on Corky's legs and freckled, gagged face. She
shivered in her tight jacket, nonetheless. The family
tombs! Immure—to entomb in a wall! She
padded after Lady Jane. She had no choice. Were
Pippa and her ponygirls going to carry her to her doom?
Corky's heart was pounding, again. The butterflies in her
tummy were still a stunned, non-fluttering lump, but her heart
waited several seconds after her mother left the chamber before
leaving the bed. She lifted her shackled feet, planted her
bare feet on the stone floor, and stood. Her wrists were
still manacled to the back of the steel belt locked around her
waist, the steel collar was still around her neck, and the slack
chain attached to the collar still stretched up to the complex
machine overhead. In some manner, the ponytail that had
protruded from the back of the leather hood that had earlier
been laced on her head remained intact. She surmised a
length of cord or a leather thong or whatever was
tightly wound around its base and securely knotted. With
her wrists locked in steel, as they were, she couldn't pursue
What Cressida could do was explore her narrow,
rectangular prison and examine its furnishings. Make
that furnishing, singular, she thought, gazing down at the
bed she'd just left. Its frame was constructed of thick,
heavy timbers, something like eight inches on a side, and every
edge was well-rounded and sanded smooth. The joinery was
tight and complex—dovetails, lap-joints, etc.—and several steel
rings dangled from steel brackets around the frame's
periphery. They were lashing points, of course. At
least the mattress is comfortable, she thought. The
bedsheets were faux-burlap, the loosely woven, coffee-stained
linen used for the castle's guest dungeons, and that included
the slipcase of the bed's single pillow. There was also a
light blanket of loosely woven synthetic wool, but it was hardly
necessary. The cell was comfortably warm, including the
Cressida groped with her shackled hands until she had a grip on
the collar chain, then started shuffling towards the barred
window. As she took the severely shortened steps allowed
by her leg irons, the gears of the machine overhead began to
turn, the lever arm began sliding along in its track, and the
collar chain began to shorten. When she was a few feet
from the bars, the chain snapped taut and resisted her further
efforts to reach the light. She released her grip on the
chain, a few more links rattled towards the ceiling, and she
could continue forward... but no more than a couple of
The collar chain was now nearly vertical and Cressida noted the
lever arm had turned ninety-degrees to face the window.
The machine had reeled in the slack, letting her approach the
window but only allowing her to stand erect before the
bars. If her wrist cuffs hadn't been locked to the back of
the steel belt, she'd have been able to grip the bars in the
classic languishing damsel pose, but lounging on the floor
immediately in front of the window was impossible.
She gazed through the thick glass and could only see a limited
vista of the meadow beyond the moat and the distant treeline,
but it was enough for Cressida to get her bearings. She
was in the tower that housed mother's private study, the tower
Cressida had dubbed "The Mystery Tower" as a girl. It was
one of the castle's locked, forbidden venues to which she didn't
have the key. She gazed up at the sky and sighed. It
was a beautiful summer day, the heavens were blue and studded
with fluffy white clouds and the trees green and shimmering as
the wind played through their leaves. And here I am
stuck in a dungeon, she thought, like one of mother's
guests, or a naughty maid. She sighed again.
And for how long?
Cressida turned and shuffled back to the bed. The
mechanism overhead reacted smoothly and quietly, its gears
turning and counterweights rising and falling. The lever
arm slowly spun away from the window as it slid along the track
and the chain played out, providing increasing slack. She
passed the bed and the chain continued increasing in length
until she was dragging it along the floor. She passed the
cell entrance, secure behind its gate of iron bars and heavy oak
door. Half the chamber remained, and in the far shadows
she could make out a second oak door, or possibly just a wooden
panel. She dragged her chain over to investigate, and as
she drew near, a click sounded from somewhere overhead,
there was a rumbling noise, and the oak door slid to the
side. Obviously, some element of the machine overhead had
triggered the action.
The space beyond was a compact loo with a simple commode, a
wall-mounted washbasin, and a shower stall without a curtain;
and it was a rather generous shower stall at that. The
commode and washbasin were activated by means of foot pedals, so
they could be operated even by a shackled and manacled
damsel. Cressida sighed, again. Most of mother's
guest dungeons had similar plumbing. The facilities varied
in age and minor design details, but all were adequate.
Cressida pressed the appropriate foot pedal, water splashed, and
she drank from the washbasin. She then returned to the
bed. Once she was far enough from the loo alcove, the
chain began to drag and the lever mechanism in the overhead
track followed. Halfway to the bed the click
sounded, again, and the loo door slid closed with a rumble and a
Cressida flopped onto the bed and got as comfortable as she
could. She lay on her side, turned her head, and gazed up
at the gears, chains, and counterweights of the mechanism
overhead. The engineer had done a magnificent job.
The machine had been relatively quiet in operation, taking in
and playing out the collar chain evenly and without obstruction
as she'd moved the length of the cell. It was also
somewhat pointless. Why not just a long chain solidly
attached to the wall? She knew the answer, of
course. The machine's manipulation of the chain made her
feel like a puppet. She was a prisoner... in chains... and
even her movements inside her cell were controlled.
Mother and her games...
Cressida's stomach grumbled. She'd missed dinner and
breakfast, having been kidnapped and imprisoned in chains the
afternoon of the day before. Surely a maid with a tray
would arrive at any moment.
Mother and her games...
in her tight straitjacket.
It was exhilarating, amazing, kinky, and scary.
The "it" in question was riding next to Lady Tydwell in the back
of a two-wheeled carriage—with the diminutive, young, blond
Mistress of Her Ladyship's Ponygirl stables, Pippa, in the
driver's seat—and the carriage being drawn by four "ponies,"
Malee, Mary, Judy, and Alice. Yes, Corky found the
ride—and especially the sight of the four senior maids
in pony-boots, body-harnesses, pouch-style arm-binders, and
head-harnesses—to be exhilarating, amazing, and kinky. But
the possibility, however remote, that the carriage was carrying
Corky to the Tydwell family tombs to be immured alive, that
The strip of microfoam tape sealing Corky's lips prevented her
from asking Her Ladyship to clarify the situation, and the
jacket hugging her upper body like a hungry python and the
leather cuffs hobbling her feet prevented her from leaping from
the carriage and sprinting into the woods. Corky's pulse
was pounding and the butterflies in her tummy were fluttering...
again. Her brain kept reassuring the rest of her body that
Lady Jane, Cressida, and the entire staff (including Mistress
Edna, she conceded) would never allow harm to come to
poor, innocent little Corky O'Brien—but it was a hard
sell. Obviously, something was happening other
than the usual damsel-in-distress "nonsense" for which Tydwell
Castle was justly famous... meaning infamous... meaning
Pippa drove the carriage along a broad bridal path that skirted
the edge of the moat and its surrounding meadow, then led into
the surrounding forest. Corky could easily imagine Robin
Hood and his Merry Men swinging down from the ancient oaks to
rescue Maid O'Brien... but that wasn't going to happen.
They passed in and out of direct sunlight and dappled shade as
they continued along the path.
Finally, the carriage left the trees and reentered the broad
meadow. The swath of grass and wildflowers swept down to
the moat and castle on one side and up to a particularly ancient
copse of oaks atop a low hill. Nestled among the gnarled,
giant trunks and spreading branches were low, grass-covered
hummocks and stone monuments, the Tydwell family tombs.
The carriage stopped and Pippa jumped down from the seat to help
Her Ladyship alight. She then helped Corky climb down, a
task she accomplished despite the redhead's awkward
semi-helplessness and the blond youngster's diminutive
stature. Pippa might be a button-nosed, rosy-cheeked
pixie, but she was strong for her size. All that
riding and hard work in the stables, Corky surmised as she
stood next to Her Ladyship. Rumor had it among the junior
maids that Pippa was the daughter of one of the staff and had
been toiling in the stables since she was a wee tyke.
Corky resolved to get to know her better—but at a safe distance
from the ponygirl stables, of course.
Meanwhile, Pippa had unstrapped a wicker hamper from the luggage
rack behind the passenger seat, hefted it to the ground, and
opened its lid to withdraw a folded blanket.
"I'll make the arrangements myself," Lady Jane said with a
Pippa frowned. "Milady?"
"I'm quite capable of spreading a blanket and unpacking a brunch
picnic, Mistress Pippa," Her Ladyship chuckled, then leaned
close and kissed the blond's suddenly blushing cheek.
"Your ponies are performing splendidly. One would never
know you had just begun their training."
Pippa's blush deepened. "Milady," she muttered.
"See to your charges," Her Ladyship smiled.
"Yes, milady," Pippa responded, smiled at Corky, then leaped
back into the driver's seat, took the reins and buggy whip in
hand, and gave the whip a snap. The ponygirls
stepped off and the carriage rolled forward. Corky watched
as the conveyance continued down the hill and towards the moat,
stopping about thirty yards from the picnic site. She then
turned back to find Lady Jane had, indeed, deployed the blanket,
hefted the hamper close, and reopened its lid.
Her Ladyship noticed Corky's interest and patted the
blanket. "Sit, please," she said with a warm smile.
Corky looked at the blanket, then lifted her eyes to the trees
up the slope. Set into the slopes of the closest hillocks
she could see stone doorways flanked by mossy statues of angels
and armored knights—then flinched and yelped through her
tape-gagged lips. "Urf!" Lady Jane had placed her
hands on Corky's canvas-clad shoulders and was gazing into her
eyes with a concerned smile.
"What is it, Little One?" Her Ladyship inquired, then placed her
right hand against the side of Corky's throat. "Your pulse
is pounding." She lifted Corky's chin and slowly,
carefully peeled the tape from her lips. The microfoam
surrendered its grip with great reluctance, stretching Corky's
coral lips and freckled skin as the adhesive surrendered to her
efforts. She folded the tape and let it fall from her
hand. "Sit," she ordered, easing Corky down onto the
blanket, then sat close beside her, still gazing into Corky's
worried, green eyes with concern. "Tell me."
Corky licked her lips before speaking. "I... You aren't
going to entomb me alive, are you?" There, I said it!
Lady Jane blinked in surprise. "Entomb you alive?"
Her expression was that of genuine astonishment. "What
makes you think..." Her smile returned. "Of
course. You heard me mention the immurement."
Her lower lip trembling, Corky nodded.
"Oh, darling," Her Ladyship cooed, then pulled Corky into a warm
embrace. "I'm so very sorry, Little One. I've been
planning this for so very long... I just didn't think."
She kissed Corky's lips, then locked eyes with the helpless
maid. "I promise you, Miss O'Brien, you are not
going to be entombed alive. You have an important role to
play in my daughter's immurement, but it has nothing to do with
actual entombment, alive or otherwise."
Corky was not relieved. "Your daughter? You're not
going to entomb Cressida, are you?"
"Compose yourself, Miss O'Brien," Lady Jane chuckled.
"I'll explain everything." She reached into the open
basket and produced a brush and comb. She then turned
Corky's body a few degrees, settled in behind her, and began
brushing her hair. "I'll explain everything as we
eat. I know you're hungry."
The brush slid through Corky's tousled, ginger locks with only
occasional tugs when Her Ladyship encountered snarls. Lady
Jane's hands were gentle and skillful—but Corky realized her
eyes were wet with tears. "I... I'm sorry, milady.
I..." Her lower lip was trembling, again.
Her Ladyship leaned close and kissed Corky's left cheek from the
side. "You're safe, and Cressida is safe." She
resumed brushing Corky's hair.
"I guess I was more nervous than I thought," Corky
whispered. "Sorry... milady."
Lady Jane smiled. "Think nothing of it." The
grooming continued "Tell me, Miss O'Brien, do you think
you have what it takes to handle a captive damsel?"
Corky blinked in surprise. "Huh? I mean, I'm sorry,
uh, yes. Yes, milady." All junior maids aspired to
be senior maids. Being topped was fun—Corky found
it fun, anyway—but topping was also fun, and if you were
a senior maid, you had control of the fun... to a
"I see," Her Ladyship purred. "And what if the captive
damsel in question is my daughter? Do you think you can handle
The butterflies were stunned into non-fluttering
stillness. "Mistress?" It came out as
something of a high pitched shriek, and Corky's cheeks burned in
embarrassment. "Y-you want me to handle Mistress
"Yes, Mistress Cressida," Lady Jane confirmed. "Mistress
Edna will provide additional training, but the technical aspects
are secondary. Do you have the strength of character, and
above all, the will to handle my daughter?"
"I—" Corky blinked, again. "I don't know,
milady." The brush continued gliding through her
hair. "I think so."
"I think so, as well," Lady Jane purred. She gathered
Corky's hair behind her head and tied it with a ribbon, creating
a loose ponytail. "I appreciate your honesty."
"Thank you, milady," Corky whispered. She swallowed before
continuing. "I'd like to try," she said in her normal
Her Ladyship kissed Corky's cheek, again, then began unpacking
the hamper. "Excellent. As I said, Mistress Edna
Help, Corky thought. She wasn't in any way
reassured by the promise of "help" from the Dragon Lady.
Just then, her eyes happened to focus on the carriage down the
Her Ladyship followed Corky's gaze, and smiled.
The four ponygirls were still in harness, but Pippa had added
close hobbles, making it impossible for them to kick or separate
their booted feet more than a few inches. And
oh-by-the-way, Pippa was standing before Mary, the first
ponygirl in line, left to right, and was pressing the head of a
battery-powered, wand-style vibrator against her crotch!
"Mistress Pippa is rewarding her ponies' due diligence," Lady
"Rewarding them," Corky muttered under her breath. She
imagined herself in harness and waiting in line... helpless,
bit-gagged, harnessed, and hobbled... awaiting her turn to have
the head of a buzzing wand pressed against her pussy... until
the inevitable orgasm, or multiple orgasms, engulfed her
body and mind. "Eeek!" Corky had flinched,
again. Her Ladyship had embraced her from the side and was
sliding the palm of her right hand against her pussy—just as
Pippa was sliding the saddle-shaped head of the vibrator against
Corky shivered inside the skintight jacket as Lady Jane's hand
continued to glide up and down across her flushed and glistening
labia. "Oh, milady," she sighed.
"Such a pretty little ginger bush," Lady Jane whispered in
Corky's right ear as she paused to run her fingertips through
the tight curls of the bush in question. Corky
shuddered... then gasped as Her Ladyship turned her head to the
side and kissed her lips.
Down at the carriage, Pippa had succeeded in coaxing an orgasm
from Mary and had moved on to Judy. The vibrator was now
rewarding the blond tomboy's pussy.
"I have one more question, Miss O'Brien," Lady Jane whispered,
"and then we can eat." Her hand had resumed stroking
Corky's pussy and the embrace continued. She was
cheek-to-cheek with the shivering little redhead. "I
believe you will do your best to handle my daughter, and that
you will succeed, but can you be cruel?"
"Cruel," Her Ladyship confirmed. "If I order you to do
cruel things to my daughter, will you obey?" Her hand
stopped moving but continued cupping Corky's pussy.
Corky took several deep breaths before answering. She was
a servant of Tydwell Castle and, at the moment, a helpless
prisoner—but she could not and would not lie to Lady Jane.
"I won't harm Cressida, milady. I won't do anything that
will cause her harm."
Lady Jane kissed Corky's lips, again. "My ginger
treasure," she purred. "I apologize. A senior maid
would have understood my question. Cruelty has something
of a special meaning at Castle Tydwell. My question is
this: if I order you to do something that will truly test my
daughter's strength and endurance, will you do it?"
"Oh," Corky sighed. "You mean, uh, that kinda
cruel. I think so."
Lady Jane's hand resumed its up and down caress of Corky's
pussy. "If you ever think you can't do something I ask,
tell me," Her Ladyship continued. "There will be no
"Yes, milady," Corky sighed. What Her Ladyship's hand was
doing felt very good, but in its own way it qualified as
"cruel." It was enough to tease Corky's pussy, but not
enough to bring her off. Without really realizing she was
doing so, Corky began flexing her thighs and tummy in rhythm
with Lady Jane's gliding hand. "Oh, milady," she
sighed—then pleasure turned to frustration. "Oh."
Corky bit her lower lip in disappointment. The hand had
stopped. In fact, Her Ladyship had released the embrace
and had returned to unpacking the hamper.
Down at the carriage, Judy was stutter-stepping and writhing in
orgasm as Pippa continued pressing the vibrator where it would
do the most good. The distance was great, but Corky could
just make out the sound of Judy yodeling through her
bit-gag. Judy's a screamer, Corky noted, filing
the information away for future reference. Being a
ponygirl might not be that bad. Her stomach
grumbled as container after container emerged from the
hamper. Corky was hungry.
having one hell of a day.
Breakfast had been adequate.
Afterwards, Morena was taken for her daily exercise, which today
consisted of weight training on various machines, all of which
tested the strength and endurance of different muscle groups to
the point of near exhaustion. Three maids were required to
shuttle her from machine to machine, secure the various cuffs
and straps that would render her helpless and hold her in place,
then provide the encouragement required for her to complete the
required number of repetitions. Morena's costume consisted
of her birthday suit, Her Ladyship's remarkable chastity belt,
and, increasingly, sweat. The maid's encouragement took
the form of verbal coaching punctuated by the occasional
businesslike tap from a riding crop.
Morena had come to realize there was method to the way she was
being handled; specifically, the number of maids required to
"attend to her needs." Today's exercise required three
handlers as she was technically unrestrained between
machines. Two maids kept a firm grip on her wrists and
arms as she was dragged from device to device, but she wasn't in
chains or bound with rope. The maids' movements were
practiced and coordinated and she could tell that two would have
been more than sufficient to keep her under control, even if she
had decided to resist. The third maid was overkill, there
just to be absolutely sure Morena couldn't mount a Heroic
Escape. The third maid certainly wasn't there to
supervise. The maids traded off the handling and
over-watch duties throughout the session. It was almost as
if they were mocking her, treating her as a captured amazon
warrior instead of the studious musician she knew herself
Exercise over, Morena received a sponge bath. Then, her
hair was brushed, combed, and gathered into a tight bun that was
enforced by a net-like cage of light chains that compressed her
coiled and bundled tresses and was secured by a tiny
padlock. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back with a
length of light chain joining the cuffs to the bun-cage.
And then, she was hustled from the exercise chamber. A
maid holding each arm, Morena was led down a stone passageway,
up a spiral staircase, through a heavy oak and iron-banded door,
and out into the same courtyard where she'd been "captured" the
day of her arrival at the castle.
The low platform on the sunny side of the courtyard was still
there, but a large pad of some sort had been added, converting
it from a taut net of interlocking ropes in a heavy timber frame
to an over-sized lounging bed. A light chain was locked to
the back of her chastity belt and her wrists were
uncuffed. Next, the maids slathered her body and face with
some sort of clear oil, and they were very thorough.
Finally, her body glistening with oil, Morena watched as the
maids exited the courtyard, leaving her alone and unattended...
and chained to the wall near the "bed." The chain was
lighter than the chain in her Practice Room dungeon, but it was
just as effective as an inescapable tether. She groped for
the chain net caging her hair bun, and felt the taut links and
dangling padlock. My hair and pussy are locked in
steel, Morena thought, but otherwise... She
squinted up at the mid-morning sun, then reclined on the
bed. The smooth cotton pad was quite warm but not
uncomfortably hot. She settled on her back... and
sighed. There was no way to get out of the direct
sunlight. The chastity-belt chain wouldn't allow her to
reach the shady side of the courtyard and the platform was too
low for her to crawl underneath, even if she'd wished to attempt
such an awkward "escape."
Minutes passed... and Morena closed her eyes and dozed in the
Then, she heard a door open, sat up, and watched Mistress Edna
enter the courtyard and walk towards her. The House
Mistress was dressed in her usual white blouse, black skirt, and
sensible pumps. Unsmiling, she gazed down at the nearly
naked, glistening captive.
"Her Ladyship has decided to host a party," Edna announced, "and
you will provide entertainment."
Morena used a hand to shield her eyes. "A party?"
"Silence!" Edna barked. "You will prepare a program of at
least three concert works for Her Ladyship's approval."
"Uh..." Morena remembered to remain silent, and
nodded. Three works.
Edna spun on her heel and walked back the way she'd come—and
once again, Morena was alone in the sunny courtyard.
More minutes passed... and again, Morena dozed on the soft
pad. The sun felt good. She suspected the oil the
the maids had slathered on her skin was either sunblock or
tanning lotion. In any case, she could do nothing but bask
in the hot sun and hope her handlers would return before she
developed a serious burn. She closed her eyes—
—then opened her eyes to find six maids smiling down at
her. She recognized their smiling faces and knew them to
be maids, but they weren't in uniform. In fact, they were
naked, more naked than Morena, herself, as they weren't
locked in chastity-belts. "What—?"
Before Morena could complete her question the maids had joined
her on the platform, pinning her on her back with firm grips on
her wrists and ankles—"Mrrpfh!"—and one maid was holding her
head and kissing her lips. Hands slid over her shining
skin, squeezed her breasts, and caressed her thighs. The
maid's tongue continued probing her mouth and she felt her
chastity-belt being unlocked and removed.
"Ahh—Mrrrf!" She'd been allowed to take a deep breath, and
then the kiss had continued. And now, a second
tongue and set of lips were probing and sucking her pussy!
It's another orgy, like last night in the bath!
For the moment, Edna's order to plan a concert for Her
Ladyship's party took a back seat. Morena had much more
| Chapter 7