by Van ©2015
		Chapter 1

Sharon Tauton finished primping in front of the mirror and turned to gaze at her bedroom.  Her bed was neatly made, the drapes were pulled back from the bay windows, and everything was in its proper place.  She strolled to the window seat and gazed down at the back garden.  The elaborate flowerbeds were in full bloom and the usual songbirds were flitting to and from hanging feeders and the nearby branches of various trees.

Just then there was a knock at the door, Sharon turned—and her breath caught in her throat.

Dorothy was standing in the bedroom doorway, smiling her usual adorable, pixie smile.  The youngster was dressed in high-heeled sandals, stockings, a garter belt, frilly, French-cut panties, and a Merry Widow-style bustier that pushed up her perky breasts.  Everything was in dazzling white, in stark and delightful contrast to Dorothy's smooth, well-toned, dark brown skin.  Her raven-black hair was pulled back, piled atop her head, and elegantly pinned in place.

"Channeling our inner Bourbon Street harlot?" Sharon purred.  It wasn't an admonishment, of course.  She was teasing.

Dorothy giggled and turned in a graceful pirouette.  "This old thing?  Just something I threw on."  She stepped forward and gazed at Sharon, smiling her usual open, friendly smile.  "Very pretty, Mistress," the youngster sighed.  "That's a new blouse, isn't it?"

Sharon was wearing a pair of comfortable heels, pantyhose, compatible skirt and jacket, and a silk blouse, and the blouse was new.  Everything was in muted olive and rust-brown hues that complemented her auburn hair.  These days, gray was Sharon's natural hair color, but when she was Dorothy's 20-something, about forty years in the past, her locks had been a rich, russet brown, bordering on red.  Now, she had it colored, to match the shade of her youth.  Maybe in the future she'd switch to silver-gray, but that time hadn't yet arrived.

"Yes," Sharon confirmed.  "It's a new blouse."

Her eyes twinkling, Dorothy indicated her frilly ensemble with a graceful gesture.  "This is a costume, Mistress.  Miss Andrea is also in costume, and we've prepared a little melodrama for your entertainment down in the solarium."

"I have an appointment, Hobbit," Sharon chuckled.  "You know that."

"Hobbit" was a nickname shared by Dorothy and Andrea.  They were both tiny little things.  Dorothy was 5' 1", whereas Andrea was exactly five feet in height.  The Hobbits were also a couple, and their other nickname was Salt & Pepper, the blond Andrea being "Salt" and the African-American Dorothy "Pepper."

Dorothy sauntered forward, swinging her lace-clad hips, and smiled up at Sharon.  "It's more than an hour until the time you told us you'd be leaving.  Come down to the parlor and enjoy a cup of tea.  Everything's ready."

Sharon leaned down and planted a warm kiss on Dorothy's smiling lips.  "I could use a cup of tea."  Dorothy took her hand and led her from the bedroom, down the second floor hallway to the grand staircase, down to the first floor, past the parlor and dining room, and into the solarium.

The greenhouse-attachment to the Victorian mansion that was Sharon's home was flooded with light.  The air was very warm and humid, just the way the many resident ferns, bromeliads, orchids, and other plants liked it.  The color scheme was white with pastel green accents.  Support columns shared the weight of the glass roof and acted as attachment points for elegantly curved iron hooks that supported hanging pots and moss baskets.  The columns were painted in a pale green, faux marble pattern, to match the decor.

Andrea was waiting between two of the columns.  Her arms and legs were outstretched in a standing spread-eagle and her blond locks neatly arranged atop her head, in the same manner as Dorothy's.  Something white and frilly was stuffed in her mouth and a baby-blue scarf was tied in a tight, cheek-bulging cleave-gag.  Otherwise, she was completely naked.

"Mrrrrrrf!"  The tiny blonde tugged on her wrist bonds and her blue eyes begging for rescue from the Mistress of Tauton House.

Sharon smiled as she drank in the intoxicating sight of Andrea's nude, glowing, helpless body.  Hobbit #2's wrists were secured in leather and stainless steel suspension cuffs.  Similar cuffs secured her ankles.  Taut and light but very strong stainless steel chains with nested links traveled from each wrist and ankle cuff to decorative but highly functional iron rings set near the tops and bottoms of the two columns.

"You decided to give Chloe's latest creations a test drive on your day off," Sharon purred.

"Exactly," Dorothy confirmed.  The creations in question were the steel wrist and ankle cuffs.  Both were padded with black leather, and in the case of the wrist cuffs, carefully designed to distribute the wearer's weight between her hands, wrists, and lower forearms.  "Andrea volunteered to help."

"Nrrr!  Nrrr!  Nrrrrr!"  Andrea frantically shook her gagged head in denial, but Sharon knew it was all a game.

Sharon turned and walked to the white-painted, iron cafe table and chairs in the center of the room.  A silver tray with a complete tea service was waiting on the table.  She settled into the chair that had the best view of the naked, bound, and gagged Andrea, lifted the cozy-covered teapot, and poured herself a cup.

Meanwhile, Dorothy had taken a leather flogger from a hook on the side of an iron stand holding a potted fern.  She slipped its restraining strap over her right wrist, took a firm grip on the braided handle, and gave the twenty or so long, trailing thongs a tentative swing and shake.  The tails rattled and swayed as they came together.  Smiling sweetly, she took position behind Andrea's spreadeagled, bound, and helpless form.

"NRRRRR!"  Her eyes frantic, Andrea tugged on her inescapable cuffs.

What a little ham, Sharon thought as she watched the petite blonde exercise her thespian skills.  Andrea's display of panic and dread was quite convincing, but Sharon was in no way fooled.  However, as she watched Andrea's well-toned muscles fight their hopeless battle against the exquisitely well-crafted restraints, her blue eyes beg for mercy, and her breasts bob and shake as she struggled, Sharon was entertained.

"Just Jaeckin's 1975 Histoire d'O," Sharon said as she added milk and sugar to her tea.  Clearly, the Hobbits had decided to reenact a scene from Corinne Clery's most famous film role.

"Exactly, Mistress," Dorothy giggled, executing a graceful curtsey.  Andre continued struggling and mewling.

"However," Sharon continued, after a careful sip of tea, "to be true to the scene, you should be wielding a cane, not a flogger."

Dorothy shrugged.  "Poetic license, Mistress."  She let the flogger dangle by its wrist strap, stepped forward, then embraced Andrea from behind, reached around her helpless, tan body, and squeezed her heaving breasts with her dark hands.  "Besides, I don't want to mark all this pretty pink skin," Dorothy purred.  "We might be getting a new housemate, and stripes and weals covering poor Andrea from boobs to calves might be difficult to explain."  She continued squeezing Andrea's breasts, and the helpless little blonde shivered in response.

"How very sensible," Sharon chuckled, then sipped her tea, again.  "Now... I believe my line is: 'Faster and harder.  I want to hear her scream.'  Correct?"

"Exactement, m'Maîtresse," Dorothy giggled.  "Your cue will be when I pause after number six."

"Nrrr!"  Andrea continued squirming, struggling, and begging with her frantic blue eyes.

Dorothy released Andrea's breasts and took a step back.  Her smile turned deliciously evil, there was a pause... and she struck.

Whack!

"Mrrrf!"  The target had been Andrea's left buttock.  Her blue eyes had popped wide in reaction and she'd gone rigid in her bonds.

Whack!

"Mrrrf!"  This time it had been the tiny blonde's right buttock.

Four more blows landed with Dorothy alternating from cheek to dimpled cheek.

Sharon took a sip of tea between the fifth and sixth blows.  Dorothy was doing a good job of laying on the flogger, and Andrea's reactions were, indeed, entertaining.  And then, it was time.

"Faster and harder," Dorothy purred.  "I want to hear her scream."

The coffee shop was nothing special, but Sharon had always liked the place.  She was seated at her favorite table when a very attractive redhead entered from the street.  She was in her thirties, with a lithe, athletic body, and was tastefully dressed in a turtleneck sweater-blouse, corduroy jacket, and wool skirt.  Sharon recognized her from the photo Jillian Foxwood had e-mailed.  She stood, smiled, and waved for the newcomer to join her.

The redhead smiled as she approached, and it was a very pretty smile.  She presented her hand and they shook.  "Sharon Tauton, I presume?"

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Carriger," Sharon responded, then indicated the table with a sweeping gesture and they sat.

"Please, call me Hayden."

"Hayden," Sharon purred.  "Such a pretty name, and it suits you."

"Thank you."  The waitress had already delivered two menus, so Hayden picked hers up and began to read.  "Uh, this is an unusual situation," she noted.

Sharon smiled.  "How so?"

"Well...  I take a position at the library, move into town and need a place to live, but instead of checking the listings for available apartments, a prospective landlord contacts me."

"I see your point," Sharon chuckled.  "The advantage of having a mutual friend."

The waitress arrived and took their orders.

"If I might ask, how long have you known Jillian?" Hayden inquired.

"Oh, quite a while," Sharon chuckled.  "I've been visiting Foxwood for a very long time."  The Foxwood B&B was a hotel and spa that specialized in medieval and fantasy role-playing, and the Lady of the Keep, Jillian Foxwood, insisted that her guests dress in period costumes and "leave the 21st century at home."

"You enjoy role-playing?" Hayden gushed—then a delicate blush colored her lightly freckled cheeks.  "Sorry.  Sorry.  Don't mean to be pushy.  It's just that I really like Foxwood."

"I understand completely," Sharon said with a warm smile.  "I quite enjoy swanning about Foxwood Keep as 'Lady Tauton.'  I have two different gowns, and I'm thinking of having a third made for this year's yule festival."

Hayden had recovered from her embarrassment and was deciding she liked Sharon Tauton.  "I only have one outfit, a sky blue kirtle with a lace front.  Jillian calls me her 'Princess Merida,' but I'm afraid my archery skills are sadly lacking.  Besides, with her ginger curls, Jillian's niece, 'Princess Alice,' is a much better Merida.  She shoots like Robin Hood."

"I quite agree," Sharon chuckled.  "Now, before we discuss sordid details like rent, there are a few things you need to know about Tauton House.  I have three other tenants, all female, and it's more a group home than a boarding house.  We share the housekeeping chores and meal preparation and are something of an extended family.  I'm sure you'll fit right in... but there's one other thing."

"Yes?"

Just then the waitress arrived with their lunch, a chicken salad sandwich for Sharon and a tuna melt for Hayden.

Finally, after they'd both sampled their sandwiches, Sharon continued.  "This is a delicate subject, so please bear with me."

Hayden was very curious.  "By all means."

"Jillian tells me you were very interested in the Stone Tower," Sharon said, "and insisted on a full tour."

Hayden's blush returned, and this time there was nothing delicate about it.

The hodgepodge of towers and buildings collectively called "Foxwood Keep" was a mix of stone and timber construction, but the "Stone Tower" lived up to its name.  It was made almost entirely of stone, and housed at least three stories of rooms, all with heavy wooden doors bound with decorative iron bands.  Hayden had visited Foxwood three times, and each time, as far as she could tell, the Stone Tower had been completely unoccupied.  But... she'd heard the rumors.  Supposedly, according to certain of the other guests, the Stone Tower was a collection of prison cells, and the foundations comprised Lady Jillian's dungeons!

"I was curious about the, uh, architecture," Hayden explained, her eyes carefully focused on her plate.

"Of course, my dear," Sharon chuckled, giving Hayden's right hand a friendly pat.  "I've also had the tour.  Did she show you the oubliette?"

Hayden's eyes popped wide.  "Oubliette?  Jillian has an oubliette?"

Sharon nodded.  "She does indeed.  Very scary."

Hayden nodded and returned to her sandwich.  All Jillian had shown her was some of the upper level rooms (meaning the upper level cells).  The windows were barred and the furniture much more rustic than the other guest rooms, but, they were hardly medieval hellholes.  Jillian had explained that, on occasion, certain guests enjoyed what she called "Romantic Melodramas," role-playing scenarios like that of a kidnapped princess being rescued by her knight-in-shining-armor, Maid Marion escaping from the castle of an evil baron with the help of Robin Hood, etc.  It had all sounded very... intriguing.  Anyway, Jillian had said nothing about an oubliette... which Hayden found mildly annoying.

Sharon smiled.  "I mention this because some of my girls—I call my tenants 'my girls'—are into that sort of thing."

Hayden's reaction was something of a deer-in-the-headlights stare, a blushing deer-in-the-headlights stare.  "Uh... oubliettes?"

"No, dear," Sharon chuckled.  "I mean they like to play with ropes and pretend to be prisoners.  Not all the time, of course.  Just now and then.  I thought I should warn you."

Hayden wasn't sure how to respond, so she took a careful bite of her sandwich.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Sharon said with a reassuring smile.  "I just don't want you to be shocked if you happen to catch a glimpse of one of them pretending to be Nancy Drew."  Her smile widened.  "Don't look so worried, dear.  They won't make you play with them."

"No, I, uh, d-didn't think they would," Hayden said.  She had to admit, however, that like Foxwood's Stone Tower, such shenanigans were intriguing—as long as no one got carried away.

"I hope I haven't scared you off," Sharon said with a sincere smile.

"No, I... not at all."

"Good girl," Sharon chuckled.  "Now, let's talk rent.  I'm sure you'll find my rates to be very reasonable.  If so, we can decide on a good time for me to show you my home."

Dorothy was not a happy camper.  She was naked, seated on the rug at the foot of Andrea's bed, and bound in a semi-lotus with her ankles crossed and her arms folded behind her back.  It was the "sadistic" version of the shrimp-tie: a combination reverse-prayer box-tie and cross-legged frog-tie, with ropes linking the upper chest harness and ankles to enforce a stringent, involuntary, and never-ending crunch.

Andrea had done the dirty deed, of course, and she'd included a hair-tie linked to Dorothy's wrist bonds.  It pulled the captive's head back and lifted her chin.  She could barely squirm, other than to wave her fingers and wiggle her toes—and now Andrea was using coils of thin cord to do something about that.

No, Dorothy was not happy.  She would have complained, of course, and screamed for help, but once Andrea had rendered her unable to resist, the vengeful little blonde had stuffed the same saliva-soaked, previously worn, but not yet laundered panties Dorothy had stuffed in Andrea's mouth for the Histoire d'O tableau down in the solarium into Dorothy's mouth, then used an entire roll of white Vet-wrap to keep them there.  The dark-skinned captive fought a hopeless, finger-wiggling battle as cord tightened around her flailing digits.  The flailing trailed off to wiggling as more and more loops of cord tightened, then subsided to nearly nothing as the final knots were tied.

As Andrea shifted position to begin binding her victim's (lover's) toes, the bedroom door opened and Chloe Brandt entered.  Clearly, the thirty-something blonde was as unhappy as Dorothy, but not in the same way and certainly not for the same reasons.  Dressed in her usual work clothes of steel-toed boots, well-worn jeans, white cotton tank-top, and leather jacket, she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at the smiling Andrea.

"You've been playing with my toys without permission," Chloe accused.

"Your new suspension cuffs?" Andrea inquired with an innocent smile, batting her big blue eyes.  "Actually, that was Dorothy.  She cleaned them afterwards, and if you'd bothered to look at your bed before storming in here, you'd have found a nice 'thank you' note propped up on your pillow."

"Oh...  In that case," Chloe huffed, "never mind."  She watched as Andrea tied the toes of Dorothy's left foot together in a neat row, ending with the big toe, then passed the remaining cord through the tiny gold ring piercing Dorothy's left nipple.  She pulled out the slack until both the nipple and breast were stretched—just a tad—then tied a final knot.

"You're a sadistic little bitch-monster," Chloe opined.

"She flogged me," Andrea huffed.

Chloe gazed at Andrea's back.  The blond pixie was wearing shorts and a tank-top, so Chloe couldn't see more than a few square inches of her shoulders and upper back, but her smooth, tan skin didn't appear to be any the worse for wear.  "She flogged you?"

"She flogged me," Andrea confirmed as she finished tying the floggers right toes to her right nipple-ring.  "You'll notice she's not even trying to deny it."

Dorothy locked eyes with Chloe and may have tried to heave a sad, pathetic sigh, but she was so thoroughly tied up it was difficult to be sure.

Suppressing a smile (but not very well), Chloe sat on the padded bench in front of Andrea's dressing table and mirror to watch the show.  "Oh, in that case, never mind."  A long, thin, black electrical cord ending in a male USB plug trailed from under Dorothy's body.  "You're using the pill?"

"Obvi," Andrea giggled.  She stood, retrieved her laptop from the writing desk near the bedroom window, then sat back down next to her victim (lover) and plugged the cord into one of the laptop's ports.

The pill in question was a multi-speed vibrator the shape of a cylinder rounded at each end, about an inch-and-a-half in diameter and three inches in length.  From the bench, Chloe could see that Dorothy's bonds probably included a crotch-rope of some kind, but she couldn't make out any details.  Given the complexity of the dusky little beauty's other bonds, Chloe's bet was that Andrea had tied something tight, elaborate, and intrusive to keep the pill lodged in Dorothy's pussy.

Just then, Sharon strolled into the bedroom.  She smiled as she took in the scene.  "Let me guess," she purred, crossing her arms under her breasts.  She'd removed her jacket, but was in the same pumps, skirt, and blouse she'd worn to meet her prospective new tenant for lunch.  "One last splurge before the new rules come into effect."

"I suppose that depends on your news," Chloe chuckled, then nodded towards the Hobbits.  "Actually, I'm just a spectator, like you."

"I'm torturing Dorothy for flogging me," Andrea said as she tapped the keys and used the laptop's glide-pad to navigate through various menus, "and as one last splurge before the new rules come into effect."

Dorothy's response was a heartbreaking gagged gaze that perfectly captured her helpless despair and profound misery.  Like her fellow Hobbit, Dorothy was also an accomplished actress.

Her lips pursed in an amused smirk, Sharon heaved a tolerant sigh.  "The news is good.  Ms. Carriger will be inspecting Tauton House tomorrow.  You two should be at work."

Sharon was referring to Chloe and Dorothy.  Today had been Dorothy's day off, but they both worked at Archer Metals, a metalworking and fabrication business on the edge of town.  Andrea was a writer and worked at home.

"And as for you," Sharon purred, focusing on Andrea, "I expect you to be on your best behavior and hard at work on your second novel."

"Yes, Mistress," Andrea said with a bright smile.  "When, uh, what's her name... Hayden?"  Sharon nodded.  "When Hayden arrives, I'll be putting my laptop to good use..."  She smiled at Dorothy.  "Just like now."  She tapped a final key.  There was a brief pause, and then—

Dorothy's eyes popped wide, she mewled through her gag, and went rigid in her bonds.  Obviously, the pill vibrator had powered up.  Except for her eyes and the gagged complaint, Dorothy's other reactions had been decidedly subdued.  That was thanks to her stringent bondage, of course.

Andrea had a highly effective control program for her little toy, and both Dorothy and Chloe had experienced prolonged frustration torture and crashing orgasms while bound, gagged, and at the mercy of Andrea, the pill, and its controlling software.  Andrea wouldn't say where she got the program.  It hadn't come with the pill.  She had a hacker acquaintance who knew somebody who knew somebody who had access to the code.  The program had a password lock, but Dorothy and Chloe had devised a straightforward but fun and effective way to crack the code.

That is, they captured the owner of the laptop, stripped her naked, tied her to her bed, and tickled her feet, armpits, and ribs until she divulged the password.  They then used the pill and program to enact unspeakable and prolonged revenge upon the helpless little blonde, but that was to be expected.  It was also why Andrea had held out as long as she could, screaming and giggling through her gag as the conspirators took turns tickling her body while the other toyed with her nipples.  Anyway...

"Assuming all goes well and Hayden decides to move in," Sharon said, "you know what that means: no more bondage games until further notice.  We don't want to scare her away."

"A nookie famine," Andrea sighed.  "Woe is me."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed, then smiled at Sharon.  "But you're right.  We don't want to scare her away."

Dorothy may have had an opinion, but she was too busy suffering the erotic tortures of the damned to make it known.  Actually, she was enjoying the hell out of Andrea's revenge and was looking forward to the next round of their very personal bondage competition, after Sharon had completed the indoctrination of their new housemate, of course.

Sharon smiled at Andrea.  "If the 'famine,' as you put it, Hobbit, gets to be too much for you, ask nicely and I'll let you spend a night in The Box.  Hayden won't suspect a thing."

The Box in question was a very sturdy wooden box usually kept in the very back of Sharon's walk-in closet, in a tiny, curtained alcove behind the rack reserved for Sharon's off-season clothes.  It had the dimensions of a small footlocker or trunk and incorporated a compact Sybian, a padded half-cylinder with a vibrating phallus.  A naked, bound, and gagged damsel could be "forced" to straddle the Sybian, she'd be eased down onto the phallus, straps would be deployed and buckled tight, the front of the well-padded box closed and padlocked, and the damsel would find herself encased, barely able to squirm, and with her head protruding from the posture-collar built into the top.

The Box had started out with a power cord and a simple on/off switch for the vibrator, but with her girls' help, Sharon had upgraded it into the 21st century.  The Sybian now had a Bluetooth-compatible, programmable control unit, and ran the same frustration program that was currently titillating Dorothy's pussy.  The Box was on wheels, of course, so the encased damsel could be placed in the middle of Sharon's bedroom where the Mistress of Tauton House could enjoy the show from her bed... until she decided it was time for sleep and turned out the lights.  Or, the unfortunate damsel could be placed in storage in the back of the closet, out of sight but not out of mind.

There were other options, like vibrating nipple-clips, a vibrating anal-plug, and an isolation helmet with headphones that could broadcast white noise, music, an audio book—Sharon owned all the erotic classics on DVD—or it could be set in noise-cancelling mode to deaden all outside noise.

Andrea swallowed, a little nervously.  "Uh, that's okay, Mistress.  You're right, of course.  We don't want to scare her away."

Sharon had decided to read a little before bed.  She was dressed in her usual long, gauze-thin, rather old fashioned night gown and reclined on her back with her head and shoulders supported by pillows piled against her headboard.  A pair of reading glasses were perched on her nose and her copy of The Three Body Problem by Cixin Liu was open on her lap.

There was a quiet knock at the bedroom door.  "Come," Sharon called.  She tucked her bookmark between the pages and placed the book on the nightstand, then removed her glasses, carefully folded the earpieces, and placed the glasses atop the book.  By that time the door was open and Chloe was standing in the threshold.  The smiling blonde was dressed in a long, sheer robe and, by all appearances, nothing else.

"I've carried out your orders, Mistress," Chloe said.

"Any problems?" Sharon purred.

"The usual kicking and screaming as I zipped them into their sleep-sacks and padlocked the zippers."  Chloe shrugged.  "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Odd," Sharon chuckled, "I didn't hear any screaming."

"You must have been in the bathroom," Chloe suggested.  "It didn't take me very long to get their mouths taped."  It was a joke, of course.  The Hobbits were, indeed, naked and zipped into spandex sleep-sacks with wide strips of Elastoplast tape sealing their pouting mouths, but they'd surrendered with good grace and fully cooperated with their "captor."

"Each in her own bed?" Sharon inquired.

"As per your cruel instructions, Mistress," Chloe responded.

"I don't want Andrea to be half asleep when she meets Hayden," Sharon explained, "and Dorothy needs to be at her best at work tomorrow.  After what they each put the other through today, even zipped in their sleep-sacks they'd spend half the night trying to snuggle together if they shared the same bed."

"No worries," Chloe chuckled.  "Not only are they each in their own beds, but I used the body-harnesses and bungee-cord straps to make sure they stay that way."  The harnesses in question buckled around the sleep-sack from the wearer's ankles to her neck and several places in between, and the bungee-straps linked D-rings in the sides of the harnesses to eye-bolts in the undersides of the bed frames.  The girls would have plenty of elastic wiggle-room, but they would not be leaving their beds.  Chloe sketched a rough curtsey.  "Goodnight, Mistress," she purred.

"Wait!" Sharon called as the door started to close.  "Get yourself back in here, young lady."

Chloe smiled as she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her.  She watched as Sharon slid from between the covers, pulled a roll of black spandex from under the bed, and unrolled it on the rumpled sheets.  It was another sleep-sack, of course, one of Sharon's special sleep-sacks she'd had custom manufactured.  It was a body-shaped sandwich, with outer and inner layers of satiny spandex, but in between was a layer of open-weave, elastic fabric, something like a rubberized net.  This particular sack was a size "M" and was designed to be skintight.  With effort, it could be made to fit Chloe's lithe, 5' 5" form—they both knew that from experience—but the smiling blonde probably would have preferred a size "L."

"Did you really think I'd send you out to secure the Hobbits so they could get a good night's sleep," Sharon purred, "then leave you free so you could wait 'til I go to sleep, sneak back into their rooms, and have your way with them?"

"Mistress!" Chloe gasped.  "You wound me."

"Strip," Sharon ordered, still smiling.  They both knew it was simply another act in the evening's melodrama.  If Sharon orderd Chloe not to play with Salt & Pepper, she wouldn't play with Salt & Pepper.  That didn't mean they couldn't pretend that precautions were necessary.

Chloe opened her robe and removed it, confirming that she was, indeed, naked underneath.  She then neatly draped the robe over a straight chair, strolled to the bed, eased down onto the mattress and atop the unrolled sleep-sack, then cooperated with Sharon, just as the Hobbits had cooperated with her only minutes earlier.

The sleep-sack had both sleeves and stockings sewn into its interior.  That is, there were tight-fitting channels for each of Chloe's arms, from her fingertips to just below her armpits, and for each leg, from her toes to her mid-thighs.  It took some wiggling and tugging, with Sharon's help, but eventually Chloe was on her back on Sharon's bed with her arms at her sides and her legs together, and tightly encased by the sleep-sack, and it got even tighter as Sharon secured the Velcro of the sleep-sack's collar, then closed the heavy-duty zippers.

Actually, it was one zipper with two closures traveling in the same track, one from the knees up and the other from the neck down.  When the fobs met, more or less over Chloe's navel, they could be locked together and to a pair of tiny D-rings sewn into the zipper's seam with a tiny but strong heart-shaped padlock.  That was what Chloe had done to the Hobbits, sealing them into their skintight, size XS cocoons.  However, there was an alternate arrangement Sharon had designed herself and insisted be incorporated in her sleep-sacks that involved the zippers, and Sharon used it now.

There were four "extra" tiny D-rings sewn into the sleep-sack, one pair about five inches below Chloe's crotch and the other about three inches above.  Sharon deployed two padlocks, securing the zipper but leaving an eight inch gap directly over Chloe's pussy.

"Why did you do that, Mistress?" Chloe asked in a quiet, quavering voice.  She also bit her lower lip and batted her eyes.  It was adorable, and they both knew it was an act.

"Hush," Sharon ordered with a chuckle, then climbed back onto the bed and snuggled against Chloe's spandex-encased side.

"Are you going to tape my mouth, Mistress?" Chloe asked, batting her eyes once again.

"No, you scamp," Sharon purred, "I'm not going to tape your mouth.

"Why, Mistress?" Chloe gasped.  She was really hamming it up.

"So I can do this," Sharon said, and kissed Chloe's lips.  The kiss was returned, and tongues were involved.  The kiss went on and on... and finally, Sharon came up for air.  "And in answer to your first question.  She slid her right hand through the gap in the zipper, slid her fingers between Chloe's thighs, and began sliding the edge of her palm against the blonde captive's labia.

Chloe shivered inside her skintight, inescapable cocoon. "Oh, Mistress," she sighed.  If she was still acting, it was an Oscar-worthy performance.

"Hush," Sharon whispered.  The kiss resumed and her caress of Chloe's labia continued.  Seconds passed... then Sharon came up for air, again.  "I'm going to help you relax, then you'll help me relax, then we'll both get a good night's sleep."

"What about the Hobbits?" Chloe purred.

"They'll just have to think relaxing thoughts," Sharon chuckled, and once again, the kiss resumed.