Dinner on the
night of The Great Pillory and Stocks Research Experiment
happened out on the deck that was attached to the main house,
just off the kitchen. Most of the meal prep happened in
the kitchen itself, of course, and the main course was...
food. It might have been marinated chicken roasted on the
grill, but Scotti wasn't entirely sure. Her mind was
preoccupied with the events of the day: her first ever box-tie,
her introduction to the sinister furnishings of Storeroom #1,
the way Amy had used said furnishings to tease and/or torment
both Iris and her innocent and unsuspecting self, how Sybil
had used the pillory to punish Amy for the
aforementioned teasing and/or tormenting, and above all, how the
experience had thrust her squarely into the middle of the
apparently long established DuPont family dynamic of teasing
and/or tormenting each other, whether Scotti wanted to play or
not! It was a lot to think about!
Yes, Scotti was a now a full blown player in Iris and
Amy's tit-for-tat games, and she didn't have anything even approaching
a firm lock on the rules and/or limits of said game.
That meant that, at least for now, Scotti was squarely stuck on
the defensive, and who knew what might happen at any
second? And what about Sybil, the DuPont's statuesque,
beautiful matriarch? What was her role in all of
this? Umpire? Referee? Spectator? Player?
Yes, it was a lot to think about, and Scotti did...
As for what actually did happen during the meal (with respect to
the game), that would be nothing. There was zero discussion
of the pillory/stocks/rope-bondage events of the day, not even
on the level of winking, nudging, and/or whispered comments,
snarky or otherwise. Nothing.
Scotti helped with the cleanup. Chicken! The
main course was definitely chicken! She
remembered the miscellaneous marinated pieces sizzling on the
grill. Then, finally, Scotti wished everyone goodnight and
retired to The Cottage. It wasn't quite time for bed, so
she put the finishing touches on her moving in, all the while
continuing to think about the momentous events of the
afternoon... and listening for the sound of the door latch
clicking and the hinges squealing, which would be the signal
that Amy or Iris (or Sybil?) was barging in to tie her up (or
something). It didn't happen, neither the barging nor
the binding. However, Scotti did finish
arranging the last of her possessions to her immediate (albeit
preliminary) satisfaction. She also compiled a shopping
list. Scotti had sufficient work clothes to help in the
gardens and the workshop, but lacked a proper pair of steel-toed
work boots for the shop. In the morning she'd consult with
Iris for a recommended source, either online, in town, or
nearby... assuming a suitable store even existed that qualified
as "nearby." The DuPont Compound was pretty
isolated. Scotti also needed a pair of moccasins suitable
for outdoor use, like protecting her feet while she streaked on
the trail down to and up from the swimming hole/pond. She
could probably fulfill both footwear orders at the same time.
Anyway, nothing happened for the rest of the night (other than
Scotti suffering the exquisite suspense of a damsel
contemplating hypothetical hijinks). She stripped to her
panties and the tank-top she'd worn all day, climbed into bed,
turned out the lights, and waited.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Eventually... she dozed
Nothing happened for the next few days either, other than Scotti
getting truly settled in and being made totally welcome
by the DuPonts. Okay, that was definitely
something, but there were no "gaming activities," meaning no
pouncing (stylized of actual) and no bondage (rope or
otherwise). Scotti helped Iris in the gardens, watched Amy
cut, shape, and join wood in the workshop (which was amazing),
and did various minor chores for Sybil in the main house—and she
did indeed have plenty of time to write, as promised. She
hadn't yet actually started serious work on her long awaited
first novel, but the ideas were churning and she was almost
ready to begin reorganizing her journal ideas into a
preliminary and tentative Formal Plot Outline and set of
Anyway, Scotti couldn't be happier. The Cottage was like a
dream come true and the DuPonts couldn't be nicer.
Unconventional? Yes. Maybe even a little...
kinky? Yes! But apparently Iris' warning
that Scotti was now knee deep in the family's reciprocal bondage
pastime had been a bit of an exaggeration, maybe even a teasing
lie, Iris' closing gibe in the Day Two Shenanigans with
the pillory, stocks, and messenger bag full of neatly coiled
bundles of coffee-stained, conditioned, cotton
clothesline. Anyway... Happy. Scotti was
And then, the evening of Day Six rolled around and... it finally
just about to get ready for bed when... Click!
Creee... The cottage door opened and The Dupont
Amy was wearing the same boots, jeans, faded Western shirt, and
(presumably) underwear she'd been wearing all day; however
(ominously), slung over her right shoulder was the natural
canvas messenger bag that had been the source of the Day #2
bondage supplies! Also, the smile curling the oldest
DuPont sister's lips was... sinister? It was certainly
Iris was a step behind her big sister, and (oh-by-the-way) was
naked, or nearly so, and padding along on a rope
leash! Also, the clothes she'd worn during the day
were missing, all the clothes, and in their place were
several feet of the coffee-stained and conditioned clothesline
that (supposedly) was the DuPont's go-to gaming material.
Specifically, the firm, smooth, pale skin of Iris' upper body
was dimpled by a tight box-tie, but it was more elaborate than
the simple box-tie Scotti had experienced on the infamous Day
#2. Multiple horizontal, doubled strands of rope not only
passed above and below Iris' breasts, pinning her arms to her
sides, and with additional doubled strands yoking her shoulders,
but rope formed a complicated and symmetrical upper-body
cat's-cradle/web that passed between her breasts and pinched the
horizontal ropes into an "X." There were also several
strands around her waist, anchoring the box-tie pattern both
above and below by diving between her legs and bisecting
her pubic bush and lady bits! It was a box-tie with
pretensions of macramé!
It would seem Iris' warning that at some point Amy would be
coming for revenge hadn't been a prank after all. So, what
to do? How to respond? Running for it was out of the
question. Not only would fleeing be cowardly, but also
impractical. The DuPont sisters were between her and the
door. There being no escape, subterfuge was the obvious
"Iris warned me you were a psycho," Scotti groused, frowning at
Amy in disapproval. "But taking revenge on me for being
forced to involuntarily watch you get punished by your
mother by making me involuntarily watch you take
revenge on poor Iris is... not very nice. I'm very disappointed."
"Too bad, Ginger Beer," Amy laughed. "You watched, you're
guilty. Also, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't
help you with your research?"
She has a point, Scotti was forced to admit. The
DuPont sisters had started calling Scotti "Ginger Beer"
something like three days ago, and much to her chagrin, she'd
failed to nip the practice in the bud.
Amy gave her bound sister a rude shove towards the middle of the
cabin. (Okay, it wasn't all that rude, but it was
definitely a shove.) In the process, Iris executed a
semi-stumble/half-turn-with-a-twist and Scotti was able to see
that the younger DuPont sister's wrists were crossed and raised
a few degrees above the horizontal. Scotti's Day #2
standard box-tie had been less stringent (and elaborate).
Her forearms had been horizontal. Iris' forearms and hands
were forming another "X," like the boob-pinching/torso-hugging
section of interwoven ropes in front.
By the way, If Iris had an opinion on what was happening, it was
largely moot. Her lower face was covered by a wide,
tightly adhered strip of some sort of off-white medical tape,
from ear-to-ear and nose-to chin, and it had obviously been
stretched as it was applied! The strip hugged Iris' mouth
without wrinkles, and her lips stood out in three
dimensions. She was tape-gagged! And thankfully, if
there was any stuffing under the tape, it wasn't very
voluminous. Iris's cheeks weren't bulging like a chipmunk
Amy eased the messenger bag off her shoulder, reached inside,
and pulled out a medium-size coil of rope. "Tonight's
lesson is... 'Our Friend, the Hogtie.' Pay
attention. All of this will be on the final
exam." She pointed to the floor and Iris sadly rolled her
big brown doe eyes, heaved a truly heartbreaking sigh, then
settled down onto the big oval rug that was more-or-less in the
middle of the room and midway between the fireplace and the bed.
"You, Ginger Beer, sit!" Amy ordered, and Scotti quickly sat on
the end of the bed (where she had a good view of the
action). Even though she was being dragged
(metaphorically) into watching Amy take horrible rope revenge on
the unfortunate and very naked Iris, she might as well learn
Amy knelt next to Iris, grabbed her naked sibling's ankles,
crossed them, and began binding them with the doubled
rope. "This is the 'X' or 'crossed' version of the
hogtie," Amy lectured as she added rope linking Iris' now
permanently crossed ankles to the nexus of the
raised-hands-box-tie ropes, pulled out the slack until Iris'
back was arched and her heels hovering over her white
butt! It was a stringent hogtie. Amy also
looped the ropes through Iris' crotch-rope, adding additional
tension to the arrangement. Tightening the hogtie required
a great deal of pulling the long free ends of the doubled rope
back and forth and through various cinches or hitches, taking
out more and more slack and increasing the tension, then doing
it again, gaining mechanical advantage with each iteration and
causing more of that vibratory slithering Scotti found so, uh,
Scotti stared and blinked as Amy tied the final knots, well away
from Iris' crossed and bound hands and fluttering fingers...
then pulled more rope from the bag. "W-what else are ya
gonna do?" Scotti demanded (in a nervous whine). "She's
"She is indeed, Ginger Beer," Amy chuckled, "but aesthetics are
important. I got artistic with her upper body, so I gotta
do the same with her legs."
Scotti nodded. That made sense. She watched (and
blinked) as Amy used the additional rope to bind each of Iris'
already folded legs in a tight, redundant, and totally
unnecessary frog-tie. Amy even anchored the frog-tie-ropes
through Iris' box-tie and crotch-ropes! Scotti had to
admit the end result was symmetrical, balanced (more-or-less)
and elaborate from one end of her naked ex-roommate's rope-yoked
shoulders to her widely splayed knees. It was
impressive... and intimidating.
Amy's final act was to deliver a resounding slap to
what little of her kid sister's left butt-cheek was available.
Obviously, that was Iris' signal to begin her Courtesy Struggle,
and she did... sort of. Her escape efforts were more like
shuddering and shivering than bona fide squirming and wiggling.
Amy grabbed hold of her sister and rolled her onto her left
side, giving Scotti a good view of her hogtied friend's thighs,
rope-cleaved lady bits and tummy, torso, and gagged face.
Iris was not happy.
"T-that looks... tight," Scotti gasped.
"It is," Amy confirmed as she rolled Iris back onto her thighs,
stomach, and boobs. "Now, that's the 'X' hogtie," she
explained (unnecessarily). "There's also the 'linear' or
'straight' hogtie, which I'll demonstrate next."
"You're gonna untie her and tie her up again?" Scotti
demanded, pointing at poor Iris. "Isn't that a tad...
"Don't be silly, Ginger Beer," Amy chuckled, then focused her
best gloating/domineering/predatory grin on the obviously
flustered Scotti. "Strip!" she commanded.
Scotti's green eyes popped wide (meaning wider) and she resumed
blinking (of course). She had only one last card to
play. "I wasn't naked when I watched your mother lock you
in the pillory, so I shouldn't be naked now. Aesthetics,
remember? Symmetry! Symmetry is important!"
"Nice try," Amy chuckled, "but you were clothed while I
was naked, so you should be naked while I'm
clothed. There's your symmetry. Also, you're
"I'm not captured!" Scotti objected.
"Sure you are," Amy countered, then smiled and nodded in the
direction of her naked, stringently hogtied, and tape-gagged
little sister. The sinister nature of her smile was now
dialed up to eleven. "Also, Pipsqueak is my hostage, so
you have no choice but to obey. Who knows what
despicable things I might do to her if you don't acquiesce to my
perfectly reasonable requests?"
Reasonable, Scotti mused as she stared at her naked,
bound, and gagged ex-roommate, the "Pipsqueak" in
question. She then heaved a deep, sad sigh... and
began unbuttoning her shirt. Leaving Iris to suffer her
sister's vengeful wrath alone would be despicable in its own
right. Besides... research, she reasoned. Whatever
Amy has in mind will be instructive... probably.
mentioned, Scotti had done extensive scholastic
research on the topics of bondage-in-general and the
damsel-in-distress. It was practical experience she was
lacking, so while this might be her initial hands-on
introduction to the hogtie, the technique was hardly unknown
territory. She was also aware that while the term was
generally thought of as tying the damsel's wrists together
behind her back, tying her ankles together, then linking the
wrist-bonds to the ankle-bonds (with varying degrees of
proximity), "hogtie" actually meant tying the recipient's
forelimbs and hind limbs together, period. She knew of no
widely recognized term for tying a damsel's wrists and ankles
together in front, in the manner a pig, goat, or calf
was tied prior to being taken to market—Pike-tie?—but
wrists-behind-the-back and knees-bent-back was generally
recognized as the arrangement. As for recognized
categories of the hogtie—like the supposed "X" or
"crossed" hogtie—that was new, and she suspected Amy might be
making the jargon up, being a know-it-all-smarty-pants... with a
bag full of rope.
Anyway, in a surprisingly short time, Scotti was naked and
hogtied. That is, she'd removed her clothes (all of
her clothes), placed them in her dirty clothes hamper, then
allowed Amy to tie her wrists together behind her back,
palm-to-palm... ease her down onto the rug, stomach down and
about four feet from Iris... then tie her ankles together, not
crossed. And now, Amy was in the process of enhancing
and/or elaborating her condition. Rope tightened around
Scotti's lower legs, midway between her ankles and knees, just
above and just below her bent knees, and around her
mid-thighs. Next, her elbows were lashed together until
they touched (not counting the inch or so of rope cinched
between. Her arms were also pinned to her body, above and
below her boobs and around her forearms and waist, and
more rope yoked her shoulders, presumably for stability.
All of that required a great deal of doubled clothesline
tightening around Scotti's limbs and body, of course, with Amy
rolling her on and off her stomach and onto her sides as
required, and more of that interesting vibratory slithering
Scotti was becoming increasingly familiar with as the long
free ends of the various ropes were pulled through the various
cinches and hitches. Needless to say, Scotti had never
been handled like this before, like a bundle of naked goods
being thoroughly trussed. Maybe when she was an infant and
her mother had, uh, swaddled her, but certainly not in
recent memory. And all the while, Amy was doing the
crooked-fingers-sliding-under-the-ropes thing to straighten the
strands and test the tension. Amy was being quite, uh,
professional about the whole thing. Groping and
griping? Yes, but it was professional and not gratuitous
groping and griping.
"A lot of this would have been easier if I'd done it before
putting you in the actual hogtie," Amy said as she looped
rope around Scotti's waist, cinched it tight, and tied a knot
over her bellybutton.
"Then why didn't you?" Scotti inquired. (It was only
natural she'd be interested in her captor's reasons for making
"It would be too easy to misjudge the tightness of the various
bindings and wind up with a hogtie that's too tight,"
Amy explained. "I do want a nice tight
composition, even a strict composition, but with good
circulation and no cramping of blood-starved muscles. I'm
not into rope torture. That's yucky."
Scotti blinked several times in agreement. "Yes.
Yucky. Very yucky."
And then, Scotti's forearms-and-waist-rope became the anchor for
"Eep!" That was Scotti, of course. Doubled rope had
slithered between her pussy-lips and butt-cheeks! And it
was tightening! "Amy!" she whined.
"Hush," Amy purred. "It's necessary. How else am I
going to anchor the upper-body-harness to the leg-bindings with
uniform tension throughout the entire system? It's simple
She has a point, Scotti thought, then, No!
Wait! No she doesn't! She could bypass my
pussy and go for a... crotch-framing-harness?
"Oh! Hey!" Amy had threaded the crotch-rope through
Scotti's wrist and ankle junction and removed sufficient slack
for her heels to press into her butt-cheeks! And
now she was tying a final complex and redundant knot somewhere
in the vicinity of her shoulder-blades and bound elbows and
hopelessly out of reach of her fluttering fingers! "Amy!"
Scotti reiterated. "Eep!"
Amy had hauled Scotti's hogtied body onto her lap (her head and
rope-yoked shoulders, anyway) which had caused the crotch-rope
to momentarily tighten. "This is mean," Scotti
whined. (She'd been trying for an angry accusation, but
what came out was a whining observation).
"I told you to hush," Amy purred as she rummaged in the
Scotti's green eyes popped to their maximum width as she
realized her captor had pulled out a wide roll of the same kind
of wide, off-white medical tape that was currently silencing her
ex-roommate, as well as a pair of chrome-steel nurse's bandage
scissors! Her intentions were clear!
"I don't want to be gagged!" Scotti whined. (Again
with the whining. As much as Scotti wanted to
present an attitude less lily-livered and more assertive than
that of a whimpering damsel, she didn't seem to be able to do
anything but whine.)
"Of course you don't, Ginger Beer," Amy chuckled as she
stretched a six to seven inch strip of tape from the roll and
used the scissors to snip it free. "But the villainess always
gags the damsel, am I right? Now... lips together."
"Huh? What? Mmmmpfh!" Amy had stretched the
tape between her two hands and pressed it home, expertly taking
advantage of a fleeting moment when Scotti's lips were, indeed,
together. And now she was smoothing the strip, making sure
the adhesive was well-adhered to Scotti's lips and and lower
"Microfoam is far and away the best tape for gagging damsels,"
Amy purred as she straightened Scotti's ginger bangs.
Scotti wiggled, squirmed, and—"Mrrrf!"—mewled through her
tape-gag as Amy returned the Microfoam roll to the messenger
bag, then pulled out a small, neatly wound ball of thin brown
cord. She watched (with growing apprehension) as Amy
pulled a few inches of cord from the roll and snipped it free
with the scissors. And then Amy proceeded to tie Scotti's
big toes together! "Mrrrkmfh!" And then, despite the
close proximity of Scotti's wrists, heels, and butt, Amy somehow
managed to use more cord to bind Scotti's thumbs together, loop
a few tight turns around her hands, and tie the end off
somewhere on the hogtie junction!
Scotti began struggling in earnest, and courtesy had nothing to
do with it. "Mrrrrrm!" She twisted and squirmed and
bucked, all to no avail. The ropes tightened here and
loosened there, but never very much in either case and none of
the bands or doubled strands shifted or slid more than a
fraction of an inch! Scotti Hunter was well and truly
hogtied! In fact, she was bundled and ready for
After a non-determined period of strenuous effort, Scotti was
forced to take a breather. Her nostrils flared as she
panted for breath and her heart was tripping like the proverbial
hammer. She was tied up! Naked! And tied
up! And naked! And both of the DuPont sisters were
watching her efforts to escape, the equally naked and X-hogtied
Iris and the grinning, gloating, and villainous Amy. Iris
was relaxed in her incredible bonds and gazing at her naked,
hogtied, and tape-gagged friend with her big brown eyes.
Amy, on the other hand, was sitting cross-legged with her hands
in her lap and gazing at Scotti with her big brown
eyes, her lips curled in a wicked smile.
Seconds turned into a minute... then two... with Scotti
occasionally rolling her rope-yoked shoulders, attempting to
twist her hips, or flexing her big-toe and ankle-tied
feet. She didn't bother attempting to voice any more
verbal commentary. The single wide strip of what Amy had
called "Microfoam" was hardly the most effective of possible
gags... but it was enough. I wonder if my lips are
standing out in 3D, she mused, like Iris.
"Well," Amy said as she scrambled to her feet, apparently tired
of watching The Iris and Scotti Show. "Have fun."
"Mrrrf?" Scotti inquired.
"And good luck untying each other," Amy added as she strolled to
the cottage door and—Click! Creee... Click!—made
"Mrrrf!" Scotti reiterated, and this time it wasn't a question.
Iris simply heaved a tape-gagged sigh.
Amy had left the lights as she'd found them when she arrived at
The Cottage with her naked, bound, and gagged kid sister in tow,
so between the reading lamp on the bedside table and the very
pretty Tiffany-style floor lamp next to the loveseat, Scotti had
plenty of light to allow examination of Iris' bondage (and pale,
smooth, naked, hogtied body). And she was well aware that
her bondage and her own semi-pale (with freckles) body was also
on full display. Anyway, she was concentrating on
analyzing Iris' bondage, hoping to discover a weakness that
might be replicated in her bondage and therefore
exploited for escape purposes. The fact that her friend
was a rope-bundled and tape-silenced naked damsel-in-distress
was entirely secondary (or so Scotti kept telling herself as
Iris weakly struggled against her ropes).
Scotti resumed her own systematic wiggling and writhing, further
examining her own bondage from within. It was a pointless
waste of time, meaning her quest for weaknesses in the two
similar-but-different coffee-stained, cotton, conditioned
clothesline cocoons Amy had crafted to restrain and immobilize
their naked bodies.
Amy had tossed Scotti into the middle of a primo research
after careful consideration and a lot of fruitless squirming,
Scotti decided she'd just as soon have passed.
The next hour
crawled by with glacial slowness... and was awkward, meaning
socially awkward. Their hogtie situations were
depressingly stable. Maybe, with maximum effort, Scotti
could roll over onto her side, but what good would that
do? And as for Iris, rolling onto her side appeared to be
very iffy. Also, their restrictive predicaments
were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Being lashed
into a tight bundle got old fast. Who knew? And that
was true even if the rigger/villainess knew her stuff (like Amy)
and all the ropes were soft, uniformly tight, but not too tight.
Go figure. Scotti squirmed and wiggled and flexed her
pinioned muscles inside her elaborate, restrictive,
coffee-stained clothesline cocoon... and made absolutely no
progress towards escaping her bonds.
At one point Scotti decided she had no choice but to will her
nascent telekinetic super-powers to blossom forth, magically
unravel all of Amy's knots and hitches, burst forth in
freckled, green-eyed, naked freedom, and fulfill her destiny as
Ginger Streak, the next Marvel Avenger. It didn't
happen. What also didn't happen was Scotti whimpering,
whining, and otherwise begging her fellow hogtie victim for
assistance. In the first place, Iris was just as helpless
(and naked) as she was, and in the second place... while Iris had
arrived at The Cottage already sans clothing,
box-tied, and tape-gagged, Scotti was convinced that
everything that was happening was at least half her fault!
She was positive about it. Obviously, the thing to do was
to ignore Iris completely (including her pale, firm,
rope-dimpled skin, tape-covered pouting lips, and big brown
eyes). And Iris seemed to be largely ignoring Scotti as
well (at least when Scotti was watching her).
Scotti would also have liked to make a show of ignoring Amy as
well, but seeing as how the gloating villainess with the wicked
rope skills and wicked brown eyes wasn't present, giving her
the cold (rope-yoked) shoulder wasn't possible.
Okay, now and then, Scotti did let her eyes dart to the
side and note the way Iris' boobs were squashed into the rug...
and the pale brunette's muscles flexed as she struggled to free
herself from her older sibling's perfidious ropes... and how she
heaved the occasional tape-silenced sigh of tragic ennui and
blinked her big brown eyes... but that was for research
purposes, of course, not prurient interest.
Finally—Click! Creee... "Ow-ow-ow-ow-Mother!"—it
The Cottage Door opened and Sybil and her notorious/evil
daughter entered, with Sybil towing the daughter in question by
her right ear. "That hurts!" Amy whined. Sybil
closed the door behind them—Creee... Click!—then
led Amy to the proximity of her hogtied and virtuous and/or
innocent victims and/or playmates. "Ow-ow-ow-ow..."
Sybil was wearing the same clothes and boots she'd worn all day,
and that was still the case with Amy as well.
Sybil released Amy's ear, gazed down at the naked, hogtied
victims at her feet, and heaved a deep sigh. "Get them
onto the bed," she ordered, "and be gentle."
"Yes, Mother," Amy muttered, rubbing her ear. She then
stooped, picked up her rope-bundled little sister, carried her
to the bed, and more or less dropped her.
"Mrrrfh!" (That was Iris.)
"I said gently," Sybil huffed.
"Yes, Mother," Amy reiterated, then lifted and carried Scotti to
the bed, but this time she did, indeed, deposit her on the
neatly made covers... gently. Scotti appreciated being off
the rug and on the bed, but Amy had taken a firm grip on her
(meaning Scotti's) right boob during the trip! And
the saucy smirk she'd given Scotti while her back was
to her mother had spoken volumes. A saucy smirk!
The very idea!
"Untie Scotti," was Sybil's next order.
"But Mother," Amy objected, "that'll ruin her research!"
Sybil's only response was an angry, disapproving, uncompromising
stare. To Scotti's surprise, Amy neither melted nor burst
into flame. Instead, she scrambled to begin the long,
involved process of untying and unraveling the "straight" or
"linear" hogtie masterpiece binding poor, naked Scotti
Hunter. It took a while.
Iris watched (as best she could) with wide-eyed, naked, "X" or
"crossed" hogtied interest.
Meanwhile, Sybil watched with a maternal where-did-I-go-wrong?
expression on her sad, beautiful face, and with her arms crossed
under her breasts.
Amy had to retrieve the bandage scissors from the messenger bag
to sever Scotti's big-toe and thumb/hand cord-bondage, but
finally, the demolition of her masterpiece was
accomplished. Scotti was free... and naked.
"Leave all that," Sybil ordered as she strolled towards the
bed. Obviously, she'd been referring to the scattered
tangle of coffee-stained clothesline on the floor at Amy's
booted feet. "And as for you," she continued, staring at
her blushing eldest daughter, "go to your room and get ready for
bed. I'll be along to tuck you in."
"Yes, Mother," Amy sighed, then scampered away, opened the
cottage door—Click! Cree...—and made her exit—Creee...
Click!—closing the door behind her.
Sybil turned back to the bed, sighed, and strolled forward.
Naked and still tape-gagged, Scotti watched her approach with
(you guessed it) wide green eyes.
Sybil leaned forward, took a firm but gentle hold of Scotti's
head between her two hands, then planted a gentle kiss squarely
on her tape-gagged lips. "We have to stop meeting like
this," she purred, then released her hold, turned, and strolled
across the cottage to the door. Click! Creee...
She smiled from the threshold. "We'll talk in the morning,
darling," she promised, then—Creee... Click!—was
Still naked and comfortably sprawled on the bed next to the
naked and elaborately X-hogtied Iris, Scotti stared at the
closed door... and blinked. For the moment, she'd
forgotten her tape-gag.
I definitely need to hunt down a can of WD-40,
she mused. Probably somewhere in the shop. Those
hinges really do need oiling.
| Chapter 4