by Van ©2010
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		Chapter 8
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Polly led Delfina up the porch steps, through a side door, and into the main house.  By this time, trudging along as a helpless prisoner—her ankles hobbled, hands encased in leather mitts, arms folded behind her back and strapped in tight, wide cuffs linking her upper arms and forearms, and the leather body harness, with its narrow strap cleaving her pussy—was getting to be something of a trial for Del.  Let me go! she thought, and whined through the two-inch ball-gag filling her mouth.  Yeah, like she can read my mind, and like she doesn't already know that I don't want to play.  The harness' crotch strap felt like it was sawing her in half!  Well, not really, she conceded, but it's playing me like a violin.

She decided to protest, again.  "M'mmprfh!"

Polly stopped, turned, and smiled.  "Now, now," she purred, using the tip of her riding crop to lift Del's chin.  "Don't make Polly-wolly have to get all Mistress-y," she said, using a juvenile, sing-song voice that was at once cute and irritating.  "Don't make me have to whicky-whack your boobie-boobs.  I'll do it if you make me."  She lowered the crop and used it to tease the tip of Del's right nipple.  "Especially your nippie-nips.  You don't want Polly-wolly to give them a whacking, do you, Del-licious?"

Delfina stared at her young, bikini-clad captor in sullen resentment.  She wasn't in the mood for this kind of silliness, but she was too tired and frazzled to fight.  She let her gaze drop.

"Allrightiethen!" Polly giggled, and the journey continued.

They came to a secondary set of stairs in the back of the house, but did not climb the steps.  Polly moved a chair away from the wall enclosing the side of the staircase, revealing a trapezoidal hatch.  It was unpainted, weathered barn-wood, like the rest of Seaglass' interior.  Curiously, while similar openings in similar circumstances might have been secured with a modest latch, this one had a substantial throw-bolt and a hefty, key-less deadbolt, both worthy of an outside door.

Delfina's rope leash still in her left hand, Polly rapped on the wood.  Thunk-thunk-thunk!  "Pretty solid," she noted, smiling at Del, "don't you think?"  She pulled back the bolt—K'chunk—turned the deadbolt knob—Click—and opened the hatch.

The space beyond was small and completely lined with interior-grade plywood, including the floor, all of it painted flat-black.

"It's too low to really stand in there," Polly said, "but at least you can stretch out on the floor.  I can, anyway, just barely.  You, on the other hand, Del, might have to tuck your head and feet in opposite corners and lie on the diagonal."  Polly giggled.  "Mistress calls this her 'Harry Potter Room'.  You know, like the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's?  Harry's 'bedroom' when he was little?"  Polly shook her head.  "A wonder the kid wasn't a worse mental case than young Tom Riddle by the time Hagrid showed up, don't you think?"

Ball-gag aside, Del wasn't interested in a discussion of the works of J.K. Rowling.  She was concerned about the prospect of being locked in the tiny, cramped, irregularly-shaped "room" before her.

"There's a ventilation duct on the back wall," Polly explained, pointing up.

Del bent forward at the waist and looked up.  There was, indeed, a small, louvered, metal duct cover screwed into the plywood, near where the vertical back wall met the plywood screwed to the underside of the stair joists.  It was also painted black and was covered by a raised grill of wrought iron bars, the kind sometimes used to cover a view port in an exterior door, to prevent someone from reaching inside.  What's the point? she wondered.  Only a rat could crawl through that opening.  Actually, she knew the point: dramatic overkill.

Polly's smile faded as she stared into the tiny space.  "It's pitch black in there, once the door is closed.  No light whatsoever.  And the only thing you can hear is a dull, muffled thud when Mistress uses the stairs."

Del shuddered at the prospect.

Polly chuckled, then leaned close and kissed Del's right cheek.  "Not this time," she said, then closed the hatch and slid the bolt home.  She took a step back and restored the chair to its former position.  "C'mon," she said, and led her prisoner up the stairs to the second floor.

As her bare, hobbled feet mounted the wooden steps, Del imagined herself locked in the tiny space below—bound, gagged, naked, and trapped in the inky darkness, listening to the muffled, fading sound of feet on the steps over her head.  Another shiver rippled up her spine.

The next stop was down the hall from Del's own guest room.  Polly unlocked the door and led her inside.

It was a small bedroom paneled with more weathered barn-wood, and was utterly, completely bare.  The single window centered on the far wall was closed and shuttered, and a heavy grid of expanded metal in a steel frame was padlocked over the opening.  The door, itself, was thick and solid.  The single, small light fixture in the ceiling was industrial-grade, and was also covered by a padlocked, expanded metal grid.  Other than the door to the hall, the only break in the walls was a second, narrow door in a side wall.  It probably led to a closet.  Like the hatch of the "Harry Potter Room" below, it was secured by a heavy throw-bolt and a deadbolt lock, but this one required a key.

Delfina looked around the empty room.  Other than the closed, grid-covered window and the locked closet door, there was nothing to see.  Obviously, the room was empty by design, and its purpose was as a place to confine a prisoner.  And it was the fourth such space at Seaglass Polly had shown her during the "tour".  I've been here all this time, she marveled, and I never even suspected.  She twisted her arms and torso, testing the limits of her bonds for what felt like the millionth time.  The leather cuffs and straps creaked and the tiny padlocks dangling from all the buckles rattled and jingled, but that was it.

What if they do keep me their prisoner? Del wondered.  What if they don't let me go?

Polly loosened Del's leash and pulled it over her head, then coiled the rope and tossed it through the open door and out into the hall.  "Go stand by the window, Del-licious," she ordered.

Delfina gazed at her grinning kidnapper for a few heartbeats, then shuffled to the ordered position.  It wasn't much of a trip.  The room was only about ten by twelve feet.  In any case, Del was too tired for pointless displays of defiance.  She turned back and gazed at Polly.

The diminutive, bikini-clad blonde was unlocking the closet door.

Please don't lock me in there, Delfina thought, imagining a tiny, empty space, like the cubbyhole under the stairs.  The door opened, and Del could see that it was a closet and it was tiny, but it wasn't quite empty.  A thick, sage-green pad was rolled up and propped in one corner.  Polly carried it to the window, releasing the bow of its attached tie as she came.  She tossed it to the floor at Del's feet and it unrolled.  It was approximately three feet by five feet.

"An extra-large dog bed from Orvis," Polly explained with a grin, "micro-fiber fleece over four inches of memory-foam.  Down, and on your tummy," she commanded, pointing at the sage fleece.

Del heaved a sigh through her gag and obeyed.  At the moment, getting off her feet sounded like a fine idea.  She settled to her knees, then onto her stomach.

Polly knelt and began unlocking the strap connecting Delfina's ankle-cuffs.  She pulled Del's ankles together, there was a click, and the ankle cuffs were now joined.

Delfina gave a tired moan when she realized what had happened, then lodged a more forceful complaint when Polly folded her legs until her heels touched her butt-cheeks.  "Nrrrf!"  There was another click, and she realized she'd been hogtied.  The hobble-strap now linked the ankle-cuffs to the back of the body-harness, somewhere under her folded arms.  She had a couple of inches of slack, but when she tried to straighten her legs, the vertical strap of the harness tightened, especially through her pussy.  She rolled onto her side and glared up at her grinning, self-satisfied kidnapper.

Polly stood and strolled towards the door.  "Wait here, Del," she chuckled.

The door closed, the lock turned, and Del was alone.  Dammit!  She struggled, weakly.  The crotch strap slid back and forth, perhaps a quarter of an inch, tightening and slackening as she tried to move her legs.  Dammit.  Her eyes were brimming with tears.  No! she resolved, and stifled the wave of despair welling in her gut.  She lay on her side, grateful for the soft pad... even if it was a dog bed... and even if she couldn't stretch out her legs to their full length.

How do I get out of this? Del wondered.  How do I make them let me go?  She let her eyes close, and sighed.  I have to do something... but what?

Just then, the key turned in the lock, the knob turned, and the hallway door opened.  Polly had returned.  She set something on the floor, just inside the door.  It was a pet dish, stainless steel with a broad, flat, weighted bottom.  She also hung something from the inside doorknob as she stepped into the room.  It was a bottle-tote, a nylon net with sewn-on webbing straps, the kind some people used to carry around a plastic bottle of water.  The carrying strap was adjusted so the bottle hung upright.  Its base just touched the hardwood floor, and a long, red, plastic straw protruded from the cap.

Polly crossed the room, sat with her back against the wall, under the shuttered window, and pulled Delfina's head and shoulders onto her lap.  "Your lunch," she explained, nodding towards the doggy-dish, "Tortino pizza-rolls.  They're piping hot, at the moment, but by the time you get to them, they'll only be warm, if not room temperature."  She reached behind her back and produced a slender cylinder.  It was pink plastic and had a rounded tip.

Delfina's eyes widened in alarm.  It was a vibrator, of the sex-toy variety, the kind one couldn't even pretend was intended for therapeutic massage.  Polly must have had it tucked into the back of her bikini-bottom.  "Nrrr!" Del moaned, shaking her head.

"Oh, Del," Polly sighed, smiling sweetly.  "What kind of a slave-sister would I be if I didn't make sure you were enjoying your vacation?"  She twisted the base of the vibrator and it began to buzz.

Del squirmed and tugged on her bonds as Polly began running the pink, rounded tip over her cheeks and throat.  "Nnnn!" she complained, but was helpless to prevent Polly from exploring her skin with the throbbing, purring phallus... and her breasts... her nipples... ribs... tummy... wherever her body wasn't covered by the narrow, tight straps of the harness.  Del continued to writhe and struggle, but she was helpless.  "Mrrfhp!"  The buzzing, pink wand was caressing her thighs... then her pussy, itself... teasing the outer margins of her labia... teasing everything as Polly pressed it against the strap cleaving her pussy.

The "ordeal" went on and on.  Delfina wasn't sure for exactly how long.  At some point she realized Polly was now lying with her on the soft pad, embracing her from behind, her strong, tan legs wrapped around Del's hogtied body, her soft, warm lips kissing and nuzzling her ears and neck, and her free hand massaging and teasing her breasts and pointing nipples.  And all the while, the vibrator continued to tease her pussy, throbbing against the strap as she squirmed and moaned through her gag.

"Cum for me, Del," Polly whispered.  "Cum for your, slave-sister.  Cum for me now."

And Del did cum—and the vibtator continued to buzz—and Polly's hand continued to tease her throbbing nipples—and her wet tongue and hot breath continued to caress and her neck and ears—and she continued to cum.

And then it was over.

Del panted through flaring nostrils.  Her skin was flushed and glistening and her bosom was heaving, straining against the narrow straps of the body-harness.  She realized Polly was unlocking the buckle of her gag.  The strap loosened, significantly, then she felt the buckle rattle, again, and the click of the padlock snapping shut.

"Can you spit that out?" Polly asked.  "I know it's big."

She meant the ball, of course.  Delfina tried to force it from her mouth, but found she couldn't.  The sore weakness of her jaw muscles was a contributing factor.

"Let me help," Polly said, smiling sweetly.  She eased her index fingers under the strap, on either side of the ball, and slowly, gently pulled the red silicon sphere from Del's mouth.  It emerged with an audible pop, then dangled from her throat, hanging at the end of its strap and glistening with saliva.

"Ahh!" Delfina gasped, licking her lips and working her jaw.

Polly climbed to her feet and headed for the door.  "Enjoy your lunch," the grinning blonde giggled, her hand on the doorknob.

"W-wait!" Del croaked.

Polly was across the threshold.  "Yes?" she inquired, leaning back into the room.

"Let me go!" Delfina demanded.  It was more a strangled cough than a shout, but her meaning was clear.

"That's up to our Mistress, slave-sister," Polly answered.  She smiled at Delfina for several long seconds.  "You're so beautiful like that, Del," she said, finally, then pulled the door closed.

Del's eyes were brimming, again.  "Let me go!" she whined.  Her only answer was the click of the turning lock.

Del heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh.  It felt good to have the ball out of her mouth, but she was thirsty—parched, in fact.  She eyed the bottle of water across the room, hanging from the inside doorknob.  Del sighed, again, then rolled off the pad and onto the hardwood floor.  She started squirming and sliding towards the door, the water, and her doggy-dish lunch.

Del accomplished the difficult, humiliating trip to the door.  The pizza-roll and water lunch was hardly a feast, but it was welcome, especially the water.  The tiny, pepperoni and cheese pastry pockets weren't especially tasty, even with the sauce of hunger, but they had the virtue of being finger-food, or lip-and-tongue-food, in Del's case.  That was probably why her kidnappers had chosen them.  Their victim could eat them without making a mess they'd have to clean up.

Her minimal meal consumed, Del made the equally difficult, equally humiliating trip back to the doggy-bed under the window.  Helpless in her bonds, Del lay on her side.  The slats of the window weren't quite closed, so a little light was leaking through the metal grill and into the room.  Del let her head drop, squirmed for what little comfort her leather bonds would allow, and closed her eyes.

They'll let me go when they come back, she promised herself, either Christina or Polly... I hope.  Her body ached, especially her arms and shoulders, but she could stand it... for now.

Delfina dozed off—

—then snapped awake.  She lifted her head.  What woke me up? she wondered.

Mmfh!

It was a muffled scream, very far away—the other side of the locked door, of course, but even farther—possibly not even on this floor.

Thud!

An outside door had slammed, also faint and far away.

Del listened for more.  Seconds passed... and turned into a minute... then two.  Nothing.

Did I imagine it?  Was I dreaming?  Christina playing with Polly—was that what I heard?  Speculation was pointless.

Del sighed, rolled onto her opposite side, and closed her eyes, again.

Del came instantly awake at the sound of the key in the lock.  She rolled over as the door opened, and found it was Christina, and not Polly.  Her hostess/kidnapper/Mistress had changed back into her jeans and tank-top, and a broad smile dimpled her angelic face.

"Get me out of this thing," Delfina demanded, twisting her body and tugging on her leather bonds.  "Right now!"

"Temper, temper, Del-licious," Christina chuckled as she padded to her guest/kidnap-victim and sat with her back against the wall, as Polly had earlier.

"Dammit—Hey!  Del squirmed as Christina embraced her from behind and pulled her close.  "Let me go!"

"Inside voice, Del," Christina whispered, and kissed her ear.

Del continued to struggle.  "No!"

"Aren't we in a cranky mood?" Christina purred.  "Well?"

"Well what?" Delfina huffed.

"Are you ready to start writing?" Christina asked.

"Writing?"  Del was genuinely surprised by the question.  She hadn't been thinking at all about the supposed purpose of her captivity: research to get her past her writer's block.  She hadn't thought about it for... hours.  "Yes," she answered, "I'm ready."

Christina chuckled.  "That was a quick answer.  Are you sure?"

"Hell yes, I'm sure!" Delfina growled.  "Let me go!"  She felt Christina moving, then heard the tinkle of a key-chain.  Finally! she thought, and heaved a relieved sigh.  Christina unlocked the buckle of her ball-gag, and then—"Hey!  No!  Let me g—URRRF!"  Christina had forced the ball back into her mouth!  By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late to even try and stop her.  "M'MPFH!"

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I might be pursuing my own research, Del?" Christina re-secured the buckle, as tight as it had been before, and closed the padlock.  Snap!  "You may be ready to end our experiment, but I'm not."

Del continued screaming through her gag and twisting her body, fighting to break free from Christina's continuing embrace.  "NRRRRRF!"

"So strong," Christina purred.  "So beautiful.  So very helpless."

"Mfff!" Delfina's eyes were welling, again.

"I have so much more to show you," Christina continued, reaching around Del's body and gently squeezing her captive's breasts.  "More leather, more rope, and except for that pair of handcuffs, we haven't even begun to explore the possibilities of cold steel."

Tears were rolling down Del's cheeks.  She couldn't help it.

Christina's left hand continued kneading Del's breasts, while her right hand slid down her harnessed torso to caress her strap-cleaved pussy.

Del tried squeezing her thighs together and kicking her bound legs, but found she couldn't stop what Christina was doing to her captive body.  She sobbed through her gag and continued to cry.

"Polly also has things to show you," Christina whispered in Del's ear.  "She has her own research to conduct."

Del continued sobbing as Christina rolled her onto her stomach, released her from the hogtie, and restored her hobble.  Her kidnapper then stood and pulled her to her feet.

"Don't be sad," Christina sighed, and wiped the tears from Delfina's face.

By this time, Del's anger had begun to reassert itself, and while her eyes were still wet, now they burned with resentment.

"That's better," Christina purred, then put an arm around Del's shoulders and led her towards the door.  "Let's wash you face and you can take a tinkle.  Then, I have something very interesting to show you."

Delfina shuffled along, glaring straight ahead.  What else could she do?  She couldn't run for it, she couldn't kick, and she knew Christina was strong and quick enough to not let her twist away and deliver a headbutt.  All she could do was play along, and wait for her chance.

They entered the bathroom and Christina scrubbed Del's face with a wet washcloth.  She also washed her chest, where gag-induced drool had dripped from her chin, as well as the captive's neck, shoulders, and breasts.

It felt good, but Delfina wasn't about to let her kidnapper know that.  She stared at the reflection of her own sullen, angry, ball-gagged face in the mirror.

Christina didn't say a word.  She completed Del's sponge bath, then unbuckled her crotch-strap and sat her on the toilet.

Delfina continued to stare, but she emptied her bladder, as expected.

Christina wiped her clean with the washcloth, then restored the strap.  "Kneel," she said, pointing to the sink.

Del settled to her knees.

Christina unlocked and unbuckled Del's gag, then filled a glass of water at the sink and took two small pills from a vial.  "For muscle pain," she explained, and plucked the ball from Del's mouth.

"I don't want any damn pills," Delfina muttered.  "Let me go."

"They'll make you feel better, I promise."

"I told you, I don't want any—Nrrfff!"  Christina had locked an arm around Del's neck, pinning her head back, then pried her mouth open enough to shove the pills inside, and now she had her in a tight hand-gag.  "Mrrrfh!"

"Swallow, Del," Christina purred.

Del didn't swallow.  She could feel the pills.  They were in the back of her throat.  She growled against Christina's hand and glared at her smiling face in the mirror.

Maintaining her hand-gag, Christina reached for the glass with her free hand and held it close.  Then, she deftly pinched the corners of Del's mouth open just far enough to pour a splash of water into her mouth.  She then immediately restored her hand-gag.

Delfina sputtered and coughed.  It hadn't been much water, but it was enough to thoroughly wet her mouth.  Before she realized what was happening, Christina repeated the procedure, forcing even more water between her lips and into her mouth.  She felt the pills slide further down her throat.  Del steeled herself for the third try.  She'd use the opportunity to bite Christina's hand, regardless of the consequences.  The hand-gag loosened—but instead of water, the ball-gag was thrust into her mouth.

"MRRF!" Del complained, as the strap was buckled and the padlock locked.  Dammit! she fumed.  She'd swallowed the pills.  She couldn't feel them anymore, anyway.

Christina led her from the bathroom, down the stairs, and to an outside door.

Delfina squinted at the sun as they came out onto the porch.  It was late afternoon.  Apparently, her nap had been a long one.  A light, pleasant breeze was blowing, stirring the dune grass, the surf was rumbling, and seagulls were wheeling overhead—a pleasant summer day at the seashore—if you didn't happen to be naked, strapped in tight leather bondage, and at the mercy of a beautiful woman who seemed to delight in your captivity.

A few strands of hair had somehow escaped the scrunchy enforcing Del's ponytail and were blowing across her face.  One more minor torment, she reflected as she stumbled along.  Her kidnapper no longer had an arm over her shoulders, but the finger she had crooked under the vertical strap of her harness, just below her breasts, was quite sufficient to keep her under control.

"Brace yourself," Christina said, as she led Del down the porch steps and around the side of the house.  "This will be a surprise."

The door in the wall of horizontal boards enclosing Seaglass' foundations was open.  Christina led her across the threshold—and Del's eyes popped wide in horrified astonishment at the scene within.

"Nrrrrf!"

"I told you you'd be surprised," Christina chuckled.