by Van ©2015
		Chapter 5

Supposedly it was a full moon, but as predicted, the clouds had arrived that afternoon and rain was still falling.  Nothing was visible beyond Kennedy's bedroom windows but darkness.  She lay in bed, staring up at the underside of the canopy.  She could hear drops pattering against the glass, driven by occasional gusts of wind.  It wasn't a serious storm, but it was a good night to be indoors and warm and snug.

Kennedy sighed as she reflected on the events of the day, especially what had occurred after the revelation of a room full of metal restraints in the Castle basement.  After letting Viv lock her in Darby cuffs and leg irons—and Kennedy still had no idea why she'd let that happen—and watching Viv lock herself in a full set of slave-chains, they'd gone upstairs to dinner, Lena had confiscated the keys, and refused to unlock their restraints.  Kennedy had suffered the humiliation of being fed Lena's delicious venison stew bite by bite by Viv, her fellow prisoner, and after dinner Lena had still refused to release them!

Kennedy heaved another sigh.  Okay, truth be told, it had been a hoot and a half to be helpless and waited upon by Vivienne, and she'd forgotten the entertainment value of Viv's Drama Queen routine.  While Lena cleaned up after the meal, refusing help as always, the Prisoners of the Castle had clinked and clanked their way to the Theater.  And all the time Viv had moaned and sighed and hammed it up as a much put-upon damsel-in-distress.  She was hilarious.  They flopped onto the sofa, side by side, and watched TV.  Lena brought them a bowl of popcorn a while later—which was very nice for a Cruel Tyrant—but didn't unlock their cuffs and chains until it was time for bed.

And here Kennedy was, in her usual t-shirt and panties, under the covers, and confused... or maybe conflicted.  She'd promised herself she'd lower the boom at the first sign of more bondage nonsense, but she hadn't, and she didn't know why.

Okay, Plan B, Kennedy decided, as long as it doesn't interfere with my work, I'll put up with a little nonsense.  She could tell it made Vivienne happy, and it was fun... a little... sort of.  Also, all that steel hardware in the Castle basement needed to be inventoried and evaluated, didn't it?  A sinister smile curled Kennedy's lips as she stared into the darkness.  I have to make sure all the items are in working order, don't I? she thought (rationalized).  What better way than to enlist Viv as my assistant and use her as a guinea pig.  After all, she's already volunteered to help.

Kennedy closed her eyes, and, with the pleasant image of Viv struggling to escape from a set of antique steel cuffs dancing in her head, drifted off to sleep.

Vivienne and Lena were sharing Lena's bed.  Both were naked.  Lena was completely free, of course, but Vivienne's wrists were locked behind her back in the Darby handcuffs Kennedy had worn earlier and her ankles were hobbled by Kennedy's former leg irons.  Neither was gagged, unless one considered probing tongues and sucking lips to be some form of kiss-gag.

Vivienne gasped and a delicate shudder quivered through her body.  Lena had her in a tight embrace and her right hand was delicately stroking her flushed pussy, and it had been for some time.  Lena's strong legs were intertwined with Vivienne's, holding her thighs apart and defeating, with trivial ease, her vigorous attempts to close her legs and squirm free.  Lena's hand continued to glide.

Finally, Vivienne broke the kiss.  "Oh, Mistress!" she gasped, but quickly—"Mrrrrrf!"—Lena clamped her left hand across her lips.

"Quiet, you little weasel," Lena whispered in Vivienne's ear, then gently took the shivering captive's earlobe between her teeth and gave it a playful tug.  "Cum for Mistress," she whispered, maintaining the hand-gag.

"M'mrrrh!"  Vivienne struggled for all she was worth, but Lena's embrace was as unbreakable and inescapable as the steel cuffs and leg irons.

"There you go," Lena purred.  "I can always tell exactly when you cum, Naughty Girl.  Your twitching thigh muscles are a dead giveaway."

Vivienne shuddered and shook... then remembered to breathe.  She had, indeed, cum, and it had been a humdinger.  "Oh, Mistress," she sighed when Lena released her hand-gag.

They lay together on the bed, Lena smiling and stroking her captive pixie's short, fine hair, and Vivienne panting and gasping for breath.  The little brunette's skin shone with sweat and her nipples were erect.  Lena was not sweating, nor was she panting, but she knew that would soon change.

"I believe things are going well," Lena said, "don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," Vivienne agreed.  Being in excellent shape, thanks to her trainer's rigorous program, her breathing was already returning to normal.  "Your plan is working perfectly, Mistress."

Lena smiled.  She knew when she was being played.  She also knew that Vivienne knew that she knew.  "Tomorrow, I want you to ask her to pose for you."

Vivienne's eyes widened.  "Tomorrow?  So soon?"

"Tomorrow," Lena confirmed.  "Now..."  She relaxed her embrace.  "Wiggle down and earn your keep.  Do a good job and Mistress may reward you for your diligence, again."

Vivienne heaved a tragic, theatrical sigh.  It was appropriate.  Then, she wiggled and squirmed her way down the bed until her face was between Lena's splayed legs, inches from Mistress' flushed and glistening pussy.  "I'll do my best, Mistress," she pouted.  Lena loved her Sad Little Damsel routine.

"Get to work," Lena chuckled, ran her fingers through Vivienne's short, dark locks, took a gentle grip, and pressed the little captive's face against her crotch.

Now, it was Lena's turn to shiver and squirm.

Come morning, the sky was still overcast but it was no longer raining.  The forecast predicted partial sun, commencing around noon.

At breakfast Vivienne didn't mention the events of the day before, other than to state that she had returned the slave chain set, Darby handcuffs, and Darby leg-irons to the basement storeroom.  Other than that she said nothing.

Kennedy suspected Viv wanted to talk about something, something other than the cache of kinky hardware, but wasn't ready.  Kennedy could tell.  Her social radar had returned to the fine-tuned setting she'd developed from four years of living with her former roommate.  Whatever it was, Vivienne was reluctant to talk and Kennedy decided not to press the issue.

The morning inventory went well.  Kennedy was able to check off her own guest bedroom and one other.  She was sure she'd complete the entire floor and get a start on the next that afternoon.  When the morning workout alarm sounded, she hurried down to the gym and undressed, hanging her clothes in one of the lockers.  Since Lena had decreed that they would be exercising ancient Greek style from now on, they'd agreed that using the gym lockers made the most sense.

Lena was ready to go, but Vivienne was late.  She scampered into the gym, made a beeline for the sauna, and fiddled with the controls.  "Kennedy and I are going to take a sauna after our workout, okay?"

Kennedy smiled and raised an eyebrow.  "We are?"

"Suit yourself," Lena answered.  "Get ready."

Kennedy smiled as Vivienne opened the locker next to her own and began undressing.  "A sauna?" she said quietly.

"I have a favor to ask," Viv explained.

I knew it! Kennedy thought.  "What?"

Vivienne had finished stripping and closed her locker.  "Later."

Kennedy smiled and followed her friend into the main gym.

Lena sentenced Vivienne to running on the treadmill and Kennedy to the dreaded universal machine for her first true weight training session.  Both had worked up a healthy sweat by the time they'd served their time.  They dragged themselves to the sauna and entered.

"It's hot in here," Kennedy noted as Vivienne used a wooden ladle and bucket of cool water to wet down a cedar bench so they could sit.

"Kinda the point," Viv responded.

Kennedy could tell Viv was nervous.  That was a weak comeback to the verbal softball she'd slow-tossed her friend.  Not at all Viv's style.  "Okay, what's this mysterious favor," Kennedy demanded as she settled her naked rump on the wet planks.

"Uh, you know how I paint, right?" Viv asked as she sat next to Kennedy.

"I know how you paint?" Kennedy chuckled.  "Are you asking about style?  Impressionist, or maybe impressionist-realist, if that's a thing.  And you work in oil.  The landscape hanging in your room looks like oil, anyway."

"No, I mean yes, I mean..." Vivienne sighed, then favored her friend with a shy smile.  "Yes, I work mostly in oils and acrylics, but...  Okay.  Look. I'm nervous."

"Really?" Kennedy said dryly.

"Yeah," Vivienne sighed.  "Anyway..."

"Viv, just ask," Kennedy chuckled.

"Okay."  Vivienne sighed, again.  "Will you pose for me?"

Kennedy was surprised.  "Pose?"

"I've had this idea buzzing in my head since yesterday," Vivienne explained, "after I found all that stuff down below.  It's for a painting and a story."

"You want to paint me?"

Vivienne nodded.  "As a medieval princess."

"I haven't seen a room full of costumes anywhere," Kennedy said.  "Is there another Chamber of Secrets down below?"

Vivienne shrugged.  "Who knows?  Anyway, the princess has been kidnapped and she's being held prisoner, so..."  Her smile returned, but was unusually shy.  "You're wearing your costume."

Kennedy favored her smiling friend with a dubious stare.  "Nude?  You want me to pose for you in the nude?"

Vivienne nodded.  "Uh huh.  Please?  If I can pull off what I have in mind it'll be great, and will inspire me as I write the book, and...  Please?"

Kennedy let the suspense build for a few seconds so she could enjoy Viv's plaintive, imploring expression... then relented.  "Sure, no problem."

"Oh, Ken-doll!" Vivienne gushed, and pulled her soon-to-be model into a warm embrace.

"Hey, you're all sweaty!" Kennedy protested.

"So are you," Vivienne giggled.  "It's hot in here, remember?"

"Enough," Kennedy laughed, and gently pushed her friend away.  "I hope you're quick with your brush work, 'cause I have work to do and can't waste a lot of time posing."

"Oh, no problem," Vivienne said brightly.  "I've already cleared it with your boss."

"My boss?  You called your Auntie Renee?"

"Lena," Vivienne clarified.  "She's your immediate boss.  Didn't you read your contract?"

"Of course I read my contract," Kennedy huffed.

"Lena isn't just the cook and trainer," Vivienne continued.  "She's also the estate manager, and therefore the senior Vidler International employee in residence.  In the event of natural disaster, alien invasion, or zombie apocalypse, she's in charge."

"I knew I should have read the fine print," Kennedy chuckled.  "I assume your painting falls into the category of natural disaster?"

"Yuk-yuk," Vivienne muttered, then stuck out her tongue.  "Anyway. Lena says there's no set deadline for you getting your antiquing thing done, and she considers not having to listen to me beg, whine, and pester to be a high corporate priority.  Let's do it tomorrow, okay?"

"I guess I can take a day off," Kennedy shrugged.  "I still don't understand how I'm going to be a medieval princess if there's no costume.  Nude is nude."

Vivienne grinned.  "Leave that to me."

After breakfast the next morning, Vivienne took Kennedy by the hand and led her up the Castle's main staircase to the third floor, the floor above Kennedy's guest bedroom and below the master suite.  The sun had returned and the morning was bright, sending shafts of sunlight through the bars of the eastward windows.  The door of the Empty Room was ahead, and it was open.

"You want me to pose in an empty room?" Kennedy demanded as they crossed the threshold, then she froze in place and her eyes widened.  "Oh!"

The Empty Room was no longer empty.  Vivienne's easel, with a blank canvas clamped in place, a paint-stand, and a stool were unfolded, carefully arranged, and ready for use.  Also—and it had been the cause of Kennedy's gasp—iron chains dangled from some of the rings set in the wall opposite the door.

"Isn't it great?" Vivienne gushed.  "While you were working yesterday afternoon, Lena and I went down to the room with all the stuff, decided what to use, and she rigged this for me.  Isn't it great?"

"Yeah, great," Kennedy muttered.  She stepped closer to the far wall for a better look.  Kennedy's Darby cuffs and leg irons and Viv's slave-chains from the day before had been gleaming, polished steel.  The manacles, shackles, and chains before her looked to be hand-forged iron.  What were obviously manacles dangled from chains somewhere between three and four feet off the floor and about three feet apart.  The other hardware was in a tangle on the floor.

Kennedy lifted one of the manacles and turned it in her hands.  On close inspection she suspected the wide, thick, heavy cuff and its chain were modern steel finished to resemble wrought iron.  The chain links and the manacle's exterior presented a hammered appearance, but the interior was polished and the edges that might otherwise abrade a wearer's wrist were rounded and smooth.  It was in two halves, hinged together with flat flanges opposite.

"Okay," Vivienne said.  "Let's get you into your costume."

Kennedy released the manacle and let it clatter back against the wall, then turned, placed her hands on her hips, and fixed her smiling friend with an even stare.  "You expect me to strip and let you chain me to the wall?"

"As I explained," Vivienne sighed.  "You're a captured medieval princess.  Don't you want to be a princess?"

Kennedy continued to stare.

"I haven't worked out your full back story," Vivienne said, "but I assume you're Welsh or Irish, and have been captured by the Normans."

Kennedy was still staring.

"I suppose you could be Breton," Vivienne shrugged.  "They have redheads.  You know, from Brittany?  How's your French?"

"You really expect me to strip naked and let you chain me to the wall?" Kennedy reiterated.

Vivienne was slightly confused.  "Well... yeah."

This was Kennedy's moment of truth.  Bondage nonsense—or no bondage nonsense?  Kennedy glowered.  Vivienne smiled back (nervously).  Seconds passed... then a ghost of a smile curled Kennedy's lips and she unzipped her jeans.

Vivienne watched as Kennedy undressed and folded her clothes.  Jeans, t-shirt, panties, and bra were soon a neat stack atop her sneakers.

"Ya had me goin' for a while, Ken-doll," Vivienne chuckled.

Kennedy was gazing at the collection of chains, hands still on her hips.  "Well, might as well get on with it."

"Good," A familiar voice sounded from somewhere behind them, "I'm just in time."

Kennedy and Vivienne turned to find the Lena leaning against the door frame.

Kennedy almost swung her hands from her hips to cover her crotch, but stopped herself.  Now why did I almost do that? she wondered.  What's the big deal?  Actually, she knew perfectly well what was the big deal.  Being nude while skinny-dipping or exercising was one thing.  Being naked and in chains was something else.  Kennedy was nervous.

Lena had a small cloth bag in one hand.  It rattled and swung as she walked towards Kennedy.  Whatever was inside was heavy and metallic.

Kennedy blinked in surprise.  "What are you gonna—Hey!"  Lena had taken her by the right wrist and was shoving her—okay, gently pushing her—towards the waiting chains.

"Kneel," Lena ordered, pointing at the pile of dark iron.

Kennedy looked to Vivienne for support.

Vivienne shrugged.  "She's the captain of the guard, sent by His Lordship to clamp the princess in irons.  I don't have a costume for her, either."

Kennedy heaved a long-suffering sigh, knelt, and began pushing and/or dragging the chains and hardware on the floor to the side so she could sit.

"Back to the wall," Lena ordered, and Kennedy complied.

The naked "princess" watched as the "captain of the guard" placed her right wrist in a manacle and closed the halves together.  Obviously, Lena and Viv had discussed her disposition during the selection and rigging of the dungeon hardware.  Lena reached into the cloth bag and produced what looked to be a short bolt with a half-rounded head.  She fit it into hole in the flanges of the now joined manacle halves, then pulled a T-shaped key on a long chain from under her t-shirt, inserted it into a tiny socket in the bolt, and gave it a turn.

"Interrupted screw with a spring-loaded side-bolt," Lena explained, "impossible to open without the key, especially one handed and without lock-picks, and designed to look like a hammered rivet once closed."

"Clever," Kennedy huffed.  "Very realistic."  Her left wrist was locked into the other manacle.  Now, she was sitting against the stone wall with her elbows bent and her hands raised to either side, classic damsel-in-chains.

Lena began sorting out the chains and hardware on the floor.  An iron belt went around Kennedy's waist and was locked, followed by a collar, then a pair of shackles for her ankles, similar to the manacles.  The belt, collar, and shackles were all connected by a long, loose chain, one end of which was attached to a ring set in the wall near the floor.

Kennedy had to admit the hardware was impressive.  She suspected they might be late 19th or early 20th century props commissioned to outfit a "Romantic Dungeon" at the estate of some aristocrat with more money than sense.  There had been a thriving niche market for such things after Gothic horror and melodrama became vogue.  Also, everything fit perfectly.  That is, the manacles, shackles, belt, and collar were snug, but not too snug.  Kennedy tugged on the manacles.  Obviously, everything was also inescapable.

"Perfect!" Vivienne gushed, then walked over and began arranging Kennedy's tousled curls.  "Just.  Perfect."  She arranged the loose chain still pooled on the floor, then returned to her easel.  "Don't move," she admonished her chained friend, then selected a charcoal pencil from the paint-stand and began sketching on the canvas with rapid, confident strokes.

An infuriating smirk on her face, Lena had returned to the doorway.  "As you're both going to be busy, morning workout is cancelled," she announced, "as well as afternoon swim."  And with that, she left.

Vivienne continued to sketch.

Kennedy heaved a sigh.  "What the hell have I gotten myself into," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Vivienne asked, but didn't pause in her work.

"Nothing," Kennedy huffed.  Suddenly, she realized Lena had taken the key with her.  Not that it mattered, but she wished the chain and key was around Viv's neck, rather than the Captain of the Guard's.  No workout and no swim, she mused.  Does that mean I'll be stuck in the tower all day?

"Remember," Vivienne said as she worked, "you're a captured princess, far from home, prisoner of a cruel Norman baron who wants to marry you to his son so he can claim your father's lands and petition the crown to bump him up to duke.  You're not happy."

Kennedy managed a weak smile.  "Not happy.  I'll try and remember.  Is the baron's son handsome?"

"Reasonably so," Vivienne answered, "but he doesn't bathe very often and is more interested in horses, dogs, and hunting than romance."

Kennedy shrugged, as best she could.  "At least it puts venison and wild boar on the table."

"There is that," Vivienne agreed.  "Now, stop talking and languish."

"Yes, ma'am," Kennedy sighed.  "Languishing, ma'am."

It turned out that boredom was the worst part of being a naked, medieval princess chained to the wall of a tower cell in the castle of an evil baron, and that was true even if you were only pretending to be a naked, medieval princess chained to the wall of a tower cell in the castle of an evil baron.  As long as the nakedness and chains were real, one quickly became bored-bored-bored.   Who knew?

Kennedy heaved the occasional sigh and gave her manacles the occasional tug, but it didn't help.  And Vivienne was no help, either.  Her pencil flew as the sketching continued... and continued... then continued some more.  Finally, she selected several tubes and dabbed paint on a well-used palette, blended some colors, and set to work with a brush.

And whenever Kennedy tried to start a conversation. Viv's response was always the same:  "Hush.  Languish."

So languish Kennedy did.  Her rump on the hard, faux-stone floor and her back to the hard, faux-stone wall, the naked ginger languished.  At least the irons were comfortable, or as comfortable as such things could be.  Everything was a good fit and followed the relevant contours of her anatomy.  Nothing pinched or failed to evenly distribute its weight.  Yippee.  Hurray for fine craftsmanship.  Also, the room was comfortably heated.  In fact, Kennedy was a tad too warm and was seriously considering glowing.

Better a little hot than too cold, Kennedy reasoned... and languished.

Finally, after more than an hour... considerably more than an hour... Kennedy decided she'd had enough.  "Time for a break," she announced and hauled her naked and chain-encumbered self to her bare feet.

"Hey!" Vivienne objected.

"I can't sit like that forever," Kennedy complained.  "I'm taking a break.  Besides, what's the point of being a princess if you can't decide when things happen?"

"But you're captured," Vivienne objected.  She was ignored.

Standing, Kennedy's arms and manacled hands were no longer raised, but loose at her sides.  In fact, she now had a few inches of dangling slack in the manacle chains.  There was also slack in her other chains, so much so that her restraints were more a humiliating encumbrance than bondage, as long as she stayed put.  If she tried taking more than a step in any given direction, her chains would be bondage, but standing as she was, Kennedy could stretch and find some degree of comfort for her aching muscles, and she did.

"Okay," Vivienne sighed, then put down her brush.  "Take five."

"Show me," Kennedy said.

Viv frowned.  "Show you what?"

Kennedy rolled her eyes.  "The painting."

"Oh no," Vivienne intoned, shaking her head.  "Not 'til it's finished."

Kennedy responded with a wounded pout as she continued stretching and shuffling in place.  Her chains rattled and shook as she exercised... if you could call it that.

"Okay, back to work," Vivienne said after five minutes.  "Languish."

Princess Kennedy heaved a sigh worthy of her aristocratic station and dire circumstances, then settled back into position.  "Is my hair okay?" she asked.

"Tousled is tousled," Vivienne answered.  She'd already resumed painting.

Languishing.

More languishing.

And all the while Vivienne painted.

Another hour passed... then two.

"Isn't it about time for lunch?" the princess-in-chains inquired.

"Huh?"  Vivienne was painting.

"Lunch," Kennedy reiterated.  "I'm hungry."

Vivienne placed the brush between her teeth and pulled her phone from her jeans pocket.  "Yeah, it is time to eat.  Good call."  She wrapped her brushes in a turpentine-dampened rag, draped a cloth over the canvas, then stood, stretched, and headed for the open door.

"Hey!" Kennedy objected, tugging on her manacles.  "Where the hell are you going?"

Vivienne rolled her eyes.  "The key?  Remember?"

"Oh."  Kennedy blushed, then shrugged in apology.  "Lena has the key.  Sorry."

Vivienne grinned.  "Wait here," she said as she left the room.

"You are such a comedian!" Kennedy called after her.  "You should do standup!"

Kennedy figured it would take several minutes for Vivienne to make it down to the kitchen and return with the key.  Several minutes passed, more than enough time... then several more minutes.  Slowly, the wait time crept towards half an hour.  Then, finally, she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Kennedy prepared to give Viv a piece of her mind, but it was Lena who entered the room.  She was carrying a wooden bucket with a rope handle.

"Here's your lunch," Lena said as she planted the bucket at Kennedy's side.  She then pulled the much hoped for key from under her t-shirt, unlocked Kennedy's right manacle, turned, and sauntered back towards the door.

"Hey, wait!" Kennedy called after the exiting blonde, but was ignored.  "Lena!  This isn't funny!"

Lena paused to pick up Kennedy's neatly stacked clothes, then continued out the door.  "The bucket is also your toilet, by the way," the blonde chuckled, then was gone.

Kennedy stared at the open door in disbelief.  "Lena?  Not funny!"  She received no response.

The bucket had a tight-fitting wooden lid, but Kennedy managed to get it open without much difficulty.  Inside she found a cloth bundle and a plastic bottle of grape juice.  She opened the bundle and found a small loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, possibly cheddar, a thick slice of cold ham, and an apple.

"Lunch," Kennedy muttered under her breath.  She considered screaming Vivienne's name at the top of her lungs, but decided to wait until Viv returned to gloat and continue her painting, and then scream in her face.

This is not funny, Kennedy silently fumed.  This has crossed the line.  No more posing.  No more languishing.  No more bondage nonsense.  None.  Zip.  Nada.

Of course, at the moment all Kennedy could do was languish.  Her stomach growled.  That is, all she could do was languish and eat lunch.  It was awkward with only one free hand, but the captive princess managed.