Castle Tydwell
by Van

Chapter 7



Corky was 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 of tape.

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 ponygirls!

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 Pippa.

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 footman.

"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 was pounding.

 Chapter 7

Cressida 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 the matter.

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 flagstones underfoot.

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 additional feet.

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 quiet thud.

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...

 Chapter 7

Corky shivered 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 was scary.

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 notorious.

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 smile.

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 degree.

"I see," Her Ladyship purred.  "And what if the captive damsel in question is my daughter?  Do you think you can handle Cressida?"

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 Cressida?"

"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 voice.

Her Ladyship kissed Corky's cheek, again, then began unpacking the hamper.  "Excellent.  As I said, Mistress Edna will help."

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 meadow.  "Oh!"

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 Jane chuckled.

"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 Mary's pussy.

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 repercussions."

"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.

 Chapter 7

Morena was 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 to be.

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 sun.

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 pressing concerns.


 Chapter 7

Chapter 6
Chapter 8