by Van ©2015
		Chapter 9

After eating Mystery Meat Stew, Snow White and Gingerella cowered on the bed in abject terror and dread that Mistress Lena would reappear at any moment and drag them back down to the dungeons for more hideous torture.  That is, Kennedy fed Viv her half of the beef stew (it wasn't venison) and they emptied the pitcher of beer.  It wasn't a huge pitcher, but their stomachs had been empty and they both were feeling a slight buzz.  They would have ordered another round, but slave-girls don't rate room service at Castle Vidler, even if one of them is a Princess.

After they ate, Kennedy was nice enough to help Vivienne clean up.  Viv refused to take a shower wearing the armbinder, explaining Lena would make her saddle-soap the leather once she was free, but she did submit to a sponge bath with a wet and soapy washcloth in the role of sponge.  Kennedy scrubbed her friend clean.  She was careful to thoroughly rinse off the soap without soaking the armbinder, then toweled Viv dry.

Clean, refreshed, and their stomachs full, the captives returned to the bedroom and padded to the bed.  Kennedy piled the pillows against the headboard and reclined on her back.  Vivienne also climbed onto the bed and knelt at Kennedy's side, her eyes downcast.

Kennedy suppressed a smile.  "Oh, for cryin' out loud," she sighed, then patted her right side.

Viv grinned and awkwardly flopped onto her side, then squirmed her body against Kennedy's unbound and therefore even more naked form.  "Everything will be okay, Ken-doll," Viv sighed as she rested her head against Kennedy's left breast.

Kennedy's lips curled in a wry smile.  I really ought to be more outraged about all this, she thought.  The flogging she'd received down in the Whipping Chamber had served its function, in that she'd decided she did not want to cross Lena and would follow her orders, thereby avoiding future punishment; however, the revelation that Lena hadn't caused her anything even approaching actual physical harm had tempered her reaction.  Kennedy was convinced Lena was not an out of control sadist.  She was a thoughtful and considerate Mistress.  What that meant would take a little thought.

Was their "slavery" real?  Apparently.  Was Kennedy terrified?  No... and she added that to her list of things to think about.  She didn't intend to spend the rest of her life as a slave-girl, even with Viv as her fellow slave-girl.  And she didn't want to trade years of freedom for Auntie Rene bankrolling an antiquities shop in the city of her choice.  But...

I ought to be thinking about bringing Lena to justice, she thought, but I'm not.  When I escape—and she didn't doubt for a moment that eventually she'd escape—I won't go to the sheriff, unless that's the only way to resolve all this.  In any case, I won't demand Mistress Lena's arrest.  Go figure.

Yes, Kennedy was confused and conflicted.

Vivienne was not.

Kennedy realized Vivienne was squirming against her side, and it was more than snuggling for comfort.  "Viv... what the hell are you doing?"  Kennedy wasn't referring to the leg Vivienne had thrown over her body, or the way Viv was flicking her tongue against her left nipple, but was inquiring as to her fellow slave-girl's intentions.  Okay, Viv's intentions were pretty obvious, but Kennedy felt she had to ask.

"I feel terrible that Mistress flogged you," Vivienne sighed, then licked Kennedy's nipple, again.  "I want to make you feel better."

Kennedy smiled.  "Oh.  I don't suppose I could talk you into letting me take a nap, first."

"You don't need a nap,"  Vivienne gently took Kennedy's nipple between her teeth and gave it a tug, then suckled in earnest.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Kennedy objected (and giggled), then forcibly pushed Vivienne away.

"Oh, please," Viv pouted.  "Let me make you feel better."

"I need a nap," Kennedy muttered (and suppressed her smile).  "Be good, or I'll pop the ball-gag in your mouth and hogtie you on the floor.  We'll do this later."

Vivienne gazed at Kennedy, batting her big blue eyes for maximum effect.  "Promise?"

"I promise I will hogtie you if you don't control yourself."  She rearranged the pillows so they could both be comfortable, then put an arm around Viv's shoulders and gave her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head.  "Be good," she admonished, then closed her eyes.

Vivienne rested her head against Kennedy's breast and sighed.  This is going to work, she thought.  I knew it would.

I'm going to escape, Kennedy thought.  It may take a while, but I will escape.

Kennedy took her nap and kept her promise... several times.  The slave-girls made love and both enjoyed numerous orgasms.  How many?  That's not as simple a question as one might think.  As the evening progressed, both got very, very tired and very, very sleepy, even as they licked and sucked on various body parts not their own and Kennedy finger-fiddled Viv's naughty-bits.  Viv would have done some fiddling of her own, but that was vetoed by the armbinder.  She tried using her toes, which would have been a personal first, but Kennedy would have none of it.  She told Viv to keep her toes to herself and use her tongue like a normal horn-dog.

Anyway, eventually the orgy fizzled out.  Can two slave-girls making whoopee be considered an orgy?  Kennedy was too tired to care.  They fell asleep in each others arms... or snuggled together with Viv in Ken-doll's arms, to be precise.

Morning arrived in the form of Lena unlocking the bedroom door, dropping a pair of fresh towels on the floor next to the bathroom, then sauntering to the bed.  She leaned close, unlocked and removed the padlocks securing Vivienne's armbinder, then left without a word.

Kennedy had snapped awake while the bedroom door was being unlocked, but she kept her eyes closed and feigned sleep, not wanting to provoke "Mistress" into locking her in chains, tying her up with 100 feet of rope, or doing something else she wouldn't enjoy.

Vivienne either followed the same strategy, or actually had slept through Lena's towel delivery and the removal of the padlocks.  She did wake up after Lena's departure when Kennedy completed the process of freeing her from the armbinder.  "Oh, thank you, Ken-doll," she sighed as she sat up in bed and stretched her arms.

"You're welcome," Kennedy yawned.

"C'mon, let's take a shower," Vivienne said as she took Kennedy's hand and dragged her from the bed and towards the bathroom.

"What's your damn hurry?" Kennedy demanded, but didn't resist.

"We don't want to be late for breakfast," Vivienne explained.  "You know how Mistress likes the trains to run on time."

"Wouldn't want to get off on the wrong foot on my first day as a simpering slave-girl," Kennedy muttered.

Vivienne giggled as they entered the bathroom.

Things settled into a new routine at Castle Vidler.  Actually, the new routine was almost identical to the old, but with notable exceptions.  Meals and morning and afternoon exercise sessions went according to a strict schedule with Lena doing all the cooking and deciding who was going to exercise in what way.  That wasn't a change, nor was Lena's reluctance to engage in small talk.  As for the changes...

Lena's decree that Snow White and Gingerella's "clothing privileges" had been revoked hadn't been a joke.  Vivienne and Kennedy went about their daily routines totally naked, and Lena held regular inspections to insure the "slave-girls" were keeping themselves clean, their armpits and legs shaved, their finger and toenails manicured and pedicured, respectively, and their pubic hair neatly trimmed.

It was all very humiliating and... interesting.  That is, Kennedy found using the personal tools and supplies in the bathroom of Viv's bedroom to groom each other to be interesting.

That was another change: Kennedy now shared Viv's bedroom.  The guest bedroom she'd used before was now clean and unoccupied.  As for Kennedy's luggage, clothing, and personal items, she had no idea where they were hidden.  They might be in Vivienne's walk-in closet, but that was locked and Lena had decreed that it would remain locked for the duration of the clothing drought.

As for the inventory, the supposed reason Kennedy was in the Castle, that continued at a leisurely pace.  A small storeroom on the third floor was converted into Kennedy's new "office," in that a work table and wooden chair were moved in and her laptop and notebooks relocated.  Kennedy noted that her electronics hadn't been tampered with, as far as she could tell, and her WiFi connection to the Castle server was as strong; however, she could no longer connect to the internet, nor could she send and receive e-mail.  As for her iPhone, it was either keeping her luggage company or was locked in Lena's office.  Kennedy made do with the scheduling and alarm clock software on her tablet to show up for meals and exercise on time.

Exercise periods now included more explicit bondage.  The "safety restraints" on the universal exercise machine had always been explicit, but now Lena deployed and used locking leather cuffs to chain the slave-girls to whatever machine she decreed they would use on any given day.  Kennedy experienced life as a galley slave on the rowing machine, restrained pedaling on the stationary bike, chained running on the treadmill (which was awkward and noisy), and rope-enhanced yoga.

That last "exercise" was a thinly veiled excuse for Lena to bind and gag one of the girls on the exercise mat in the middle of the gym while the other worked out, and the blond amazon didn't show favoritism.  One time it would be Vivienne lashed into some contorted pose for an hour or so, and the next time it would be Kennedy's turn.

As for swimming in the lake, that also continued, but Lena also introduced what she called "freckle farming."  Once or twice a week she used thin cord to spread-eagle Kennedy between four stakes hammered into the slope between the Castle and the pier.  Vivienne was assigned the task of rubbing tanning lotion all over Kennedy's helpless body, which she accomplished with due diligence, tragic sighs, and poorly concealed delight.  Then, Mistress and Snow White would depart and take their swim.  Sometimes face up, sometimes face down, Kennedy would bask in the sun while Lena and Viv splashed in the lake.  Inevitably, Gingerella's freckle collection blossomed and her tan-lines faded and disappeared.  Kennedy's tits and tushie gradually became just as dappled as her face and shoulders.

At night, Lena locked the girls in Vivienne's bedroom, and one of them was always restrained in some way, using either steel or padlocked leather.  That is, one slave-girl was always dependent on the other, to the degree dictated by the stringency of her bonds.  Sometimes it was as simple as wrists being cuffed behind the back or ankles being hobbled by fetters with a connecting chain, but now and then Lena decided the designated damsel deserved punishment.

Kennedy spent one night strapped in a full-body harness with horizontal and lateral straps dimpling her flesh from shoulders to toes, with her hands trapped in leather mitts at her sides.  All of the many buckles were padlocked, except for the pussy-cleaving crotch-strap, and Lena warned Viv that it was to be unbuckled only for sanitary purposes.  Viv decided to either stretch that rule to the limit or flaunt it completely, depending on your point of view.  Helping Ken-doll use the bathroom was obviously allowed, but in the morning, when Lena discovered the slave-girls in bed and Gingerella's crotch strap not buckled, Snow White's argument that she had to massage her fellow slave's pussy during the night "for sanitary reasons" fell on deaf ears.  Viv spent the day locked in slave-chains.

Another night, Vivienne was locked in close, stringent steel chains and cuffs.  Her ankles were shackled inches apart, her wrists fettered behind her back, a collar around her throat, and everything connected by a tight, taut web of thin chains.  And the ensemble included both a steel chastity belt and a steel bra.  The belt's crotch panel had a sawtooth-lined slot and a round opening that allowed the pitiful, pouting prisoner to relieve herself, and also allowed Kennedy to clean her up afterwards, but the love-making that night was decidedly one sided, to say the least.  That said, Viv threw herself into the task of helping Ken-doll relax from a hard day of counting chairs, exercising, and growing freckles.

Kennedy was careful to maintain an aura of resentment.  But gradually, as days turned into weeks, she dialed back her anger and overt dislike of "Mistress."  She was sure Lena liked her Feisty Redhead persona (which was far from an affectation), so she didn't become too nice.  Rather than seething anger, she settled into a show of enmity and grudging obedience, with a side of subdued amusement at Lena's infrequent attempts at humor.  She was shooting for bitter-sweet, rather than sour, and thought she was succeeding.

Also, Vivienne finished her painting, and it only cost Kennedy two additional work days.  She languished in the same chains in the same pose in the same Empty Room while Viv painted.  They decided to call the masterpiece Gingerella in Chains, and when she was finally allowed to see the finished canvas, Kennedy had to admit it was something of a masterpiece.  Apparently, the sight of Ken-doll naked and chained to a stone wall brought out the best of Vivienne's talent.

On the escape front, Kennedy made slow progress.  In the course of her inventory duties she went back over various invoices, shipping documents, plans, and blueprints in the Castle archives, but this time with an eye towards geography.  Slowly, she pieced together a better idea of the area surrounding Castle Vidler.  Lake Superior was to the north, no more than a few miles, and the town of Beacon Hill was farther up the shoreline.  So, all she had to do was get out of the Castle itself, hike north until she either ran into Lake Superior or a road leading north, then make her way to Beacon Hill.  Exactly how far she'd have to hike wasn't crystal clear.  Her best guess was... twenty miles to town?  She really couldn't be sure.  There were no actual maps in the archives.

Kennedy's next obstacle would be clothes, and especially shoes.  She couldn't hike miles through the woods in her bare feet.  She casually noticed that two pair of shoes were kept in a neat row next to a side door near the kitchen.  They were the barefoot kind, moccasins with separate toes and no arch support.  She remembered Lena or Viv mentioning hiking forest trails, a privilege not yet granted Gingerella, and these were exactly the sort of footwear they would wear.  One pair was too large, obviously Lena's, but the other pair, probably Viv's, looked like they'd fit.

On the clothing front, the only thing she found she had access to was conveniently hanging from a hook above the shoes in the form of a hooded rain-jacket.  It was in Lena's size and was woodland camouflage, a mottled mass of browns and greens, mostly browns.  It was a civilian hunting pattern, not military issue.  Kennedy realized she'd look ridiculous in the thing.  The bottom hem would probably reach her knees and she'd have to roll up the cuffs of the sleeves a couple of times, but it would be better than nothing.  Her only other option was a towel wrapped around her torso.  Also, the camouflage might help her hide if she ran into trouble during her trek north.

That left the question of when to go, and as the days passed, Kennedy decided all she could do was wait, hope, and act when an opportunity presented itself, but she couldn't wait too long.  Winter was months away, but she knew she should make her escape while the weather was good, especially as slippers and a rain-jacket were the only available clothing.  In any case, she certainly didn't want to wait until spring.

And then, fortune smiled.  Either that or Kennedy finally worked up the courage to try her luck.

One bright, sunny morning, after a hearty breakfast, Lena set to work cleaning the kitchen.  But first she ordered Vivienne to gather the towels from the bathrooms and the dirty clothes in Mistress' hamper and take everything down to the laundry in the basement.  And while all that was getting clean, she was to change the beds and take the dirty sheets down, as well.  Kennedy didn't bother offering to help.  Lena had already decreed that Snow White had her regular chores, Gingerella had her inventory work, and that was that.  It turned out being a Captured Princess at Vidler Castle had a lot in common with being a maid.  Go figure.

Anyway, Kennedy made a show of departing for her office to get her tablet, waited until Viv started her assignment, then tiptoed back down to the designated escape portal.  The LED on the door's cypher-lock was glowing green—check!  She slipped on Viv's "Hobbit Slippers" and confirmed that they did fit—check!  Next, she eased the rain-jacket off its hook and carefully folded it across her arm—check!  Finally, she slowly, silently turned the doorknob, eased open the door, stepped through, and carefully closed the door behind her.

She was out of the Castle!

Kennedy shrugged into the jacket as she sprinted for the trees.  She was careful to choose a path that wouldn't take her past the kitchen windows.  She didn't want to begin her escape with a footrace with Lena.  She knew she'd lose such a race unless she had a generous head start, and Kennedy intended to have a head start of miles before Mistress discovered that Gingerella wasn't in the Castle, which should be soon after she failed to report for the morning exercise session.  She set a quick pace for herself for the next hour.

The rain-jacket was something like two sizes too large, and she had to roll up the cuffs and the hem came down to her knees, as she'd feared.  Also, it was too hot.  The fabric was breathable Gortex, but there are limits to such things.  Soon, the jacket's satiny lining was clammy against her sweating skin.

One hour became two and she discovered a serious flaw in her plan.  Kennedy McKidd was not an experienced outdoors-person.  She hadn't even been a Girl Scout.  She tried navigating by the position of the sun, but the dappled forest shade and the sun's progress across the morning sky made it difficult.  That said, she thought she was probably heading at least generally north, as planned.

In a second and possibly more serious flaw, Kennedy realized she'd neglected to bring a bottle of water.  They'd been available in the kitchen refrigerator, and she could have tried to sneak one out.  As the second hour of hiking became the third, she began to regret not having taken the risk.  By the time she reached the lake shore or the road, she was going to be one thirsty little fugitive.  Maybe she'd stumble across a stream at some point.  She could only hope.

Kennedy did her best to disguise her trail.  That is, she tried not to break branches or bend grass blades.  Truth be told, she had no idea whether or not her efforts at stealthiness were succeeding.  All she could do was carefully plant one foot in front of the other and do her best.

And speaking of feet, Kennedy was forming the opinion that "Hobbit Slippers" suck as footwear.  Her arches had started complaining after the first hour, and she'd trod on more than a few sharp sticks or rocks, no matter how carefully she tried to avoid them.

That said, aside from the heat and her growing thirst and the fact that an angry Lena might be on her trail, the woods were really quite pleasant.  There was mostly shade under the trees, of course, but she could still see blue sky now and then.  The leaves were green and rustled at the tops of the canopies, but unfortunately the wind didn't make it to ground level.  Also, there was a pleasing, woodsy odor in the air.  Kennedy didn't know exactly what to call it, other than woodsy, and the simple-mindedness of describing the woods as "woodsy" wasn't lost on her.  She was getting tired... and thirsty.  Anyway, Vivienne was the writer.  Let her come up with a better adjective.

Kennedy was a little surprised not to see a lot of birds, or hear more than a few bird calls.  She heard some twitters and trills, but mostly in front of her.  She did see some insects, but not birds.  Grasshoppers fled from her path, or in the case of butterflies, flitted about and ignored her completely.  She couldn't hear any birds... but was that a car engine?

Kennedy sprinted forward and came to a grassy meadow, and crossing the meadow was a two lane highway!  A silver sedan was just disappearing around a gentle bend in the road, something like fifty yards distant.  Kennedy didn't bother running after the car.  It was already gone.  She left the treeline and stepped out onto the tall grass.  More butterflies and a few bees were fluttering and buzzing around and there were wildflowers everywhere.  It was all very pretty, but she didn't pause to admire the view.  She had to get to the road before she missed her next potential ride.

Kennedy continued across the meadow and was soon about halfway to her goal.  She took one more step, heard a whistling sound, and—a lasso settled over her head, tightened around her upper-arms, and jerked her off her feet!  "Ahhh!"

Before Kennedy could struggle to her feet, a figure was upon her, a blur of browns and greens.  Then, more rope tightened around her arms!  "Hey, stop!"  The rain-jacket's hood had flapped up when she fell and was getting in the way of her vision, preventing her from getting a good look at her captor.  "Lena?  Stop!"

Kennedy's captor tugged on the drawstrings of the hood and it tightened until Kennedy's vision was limited to an area roughly the size of her open hand.  "Will you please stop!"  Now, rope was tightening around her her wrists, lashing them together behind her back.  Her unknown captor was tying her up.  "Lena, I just want to go into town and, uh, look around.  Mrrrpfh!"

A cloth had been stuffed into Kennedy's mouth.  "Nrrrrf!"  And now a narrowly folded cloth was being tied between her teeth as a cleave-gag and knotted behind the rain-jacket's hood.  This not only silenced her voice, or at least muffled it considerably, but stabilized the hood.  It now severely limiting her peripheral vision, like a pair of blinders.  All she could see was a small zone straight ahead.

Next, a hand tightened across her already gagged mouth and an arm held her close.  Kennedy kicked and squirmed, but to no avail.  At the same time, she heard a whining sound—no, a truck engine!  "M'mmmf."  The vision of a large truck with "Pat's Foods" emblazoned on the side roared across her limited vision.  Then, the roar faded, became an ever-diminishing whine, and was gone.

"The driver did not see us," an alto, female voice intoned.  It was a voice Kennedy had never heard before.

"Mrrk?"  Whoever her new captor was, she lifted Kennedy onto her shoulder and carried her back into the woods.  Again?  Kennedy sighed through her gag.  Again with the being carried around like a sack of potatoes?  All Kennedy could see through the opening in the rain-jacket hood was a few ginger, tousled curls of her own hair and more camouflage cloth.  Her captor—who was not Lena—was dressed for hunting, and it would seem that Kennedy McKidd was her prey.

Soon after they were under the shade of the trees Kennedy heard another car pass on the road behind then.  "Mrrrr."  She'd been so close to freedom... maybe.  "Mrrrk!"  This time there was anger in her gagged complaint, and she started kicking her feet.

"Settle down," Kennedy's captor chuckled, and slapped her rump.  The rain-jacket had ridden up enough that the stinging blow landed on bare, freckled skin.  Kennedy stopped kicking, but she was still angry.

Several yards from the meadow, Kennedy's captor heaved her off her shoulder and down onto the ground.  They were in the middle of a large stand of mature trees.  There was little undergrowth but a lot of bare soil and decomposing leaf litter.

Kennedy's captor untied her cleave gag and lowered the rain-jacket's hood, but kept one hand clamped across Kennedy's mouth during the process.  Then, she retied the cleave-gag—"M'mmmf!"—at the nape of Kennedy's neck and under her ginger curls, tight enough to make her freckled cheeks bulge.  Her hair was still a tousled mass with a lot of it falling across her face, so she still couldn't see much.  She struggled as the ropes lashing her arms to her sides were untied, and continued struggling as her captor pulled the rain-jacket off her shoulders until it was bunched more or less at the level of her waist, but her captor managed to keep her under control.  She then began tying Kennedy up, again, and this time the ropes were tightening around her bare flesh!

Kennedy squirmed and kicked, tossing her head in a vain attempt to shake the hair from her face, but she was on her stomach on the forest floor with her captor more-or-less sitting on her.  She still couldn't see much of anything and her struggles remained ineffective.

The ropes tightened into a torso harness.  Then, her wrists were untied, the jacket pulled free, and her wrists crossed and lashed against her spine, just below her shoulder blades.  More rope tightened, pinning her upper-arms against her body, passing above and below her breasts, yoking her shoulders, and further pinning her lower-arms and wrists.  It was a binding worthy of Lena at her best (meaning her worst, from Snow White's or Gingerella's points of view), but Kennedy knew her captor wasn't Lena.

Once the rope expert in question climbed off her body, Kennedy rolled onto her backside and bound arms and finally succeeded in shaking the hair from her gagged face.  Her captor was the groundskeeper, Skylar Smoke!  I forgot about her, Kennedy realized.  I'm an idiot.  Truth be told, Kennedy had been on the lookout for pursuit ever since she left the Castle and didn't know what she would have done differently if both Skylar and Lena had been on her on her list of possible pursuers, but she still felt bad for getting caught.

The tall (relative to Kennedy) Native American beauty was, indeed, dressed in camouflage.  Her footwear were unadorned moccasins, but her trousers and tank-top were commercial camouflage, similar to the rain-jacket Kennedy had "borrowed" from Lena.

Kennedy watched as Skylar shrugged a second coil of rope off her shoulder, pulled Kennedy's feet together and crossed her ankles, then began lashing them together.  The now naked captive didn't bother trying to kick or otherwise impede Skylar's process, but she lodged a strong protest.  "Nrrrm!"  She did try and squirm away when Skylar looped the rope behind her head, pulled out the slack until she was forced into a full crunch, then hitched the rope through her crossed and bound ankles and tied a knot.  There was still a substantial length to the remaining rope, but not for long.  Skylar tossed the free end over a tree branch, pulled out most of the slack, then tied a final knot something like five feet off the ground.

Kennedy was now naked, gagged, box-tied, and bound in a crunch on the forest floor.  She'd been sweaty under the jacket before it was removed, and now, after struggling and rolling on the ground, she was soiled with dirt and detritus over most of her body.  She squirmed and fought her bonds, to no avail.  As already noted, Skylar knew her way around a coil of rope.  Kennedy glared at her captor, or tried to, anyway.  Anger and fear were at war in her mind.  If Lena had been her captor, Kennedy knew she could be properly infuriated and outraged, but she didn't know how Skylar would react.  She didn't know Skylar Smoke.

What happened next was unexpected.  Skylar picked up Lena's rain-jacket, rolled it into a neat, tight bundle, stowed it in its own hood, and tucked the bundle under her right arm.  Then, after a lingering, somewhat sinister smile, turned and left.

"Nrrrk?"  Kennedy blinked in surprise as her new captor abandoned her in the woods.  In something like a dozen graceful, gliding steps... Skylar was gone.  The camouflage helped, of course, but it was almost as if the forest had swallowed her up.  Kennedy wiggled and squirmed and groped for the unreachable knots, but knew herself to be completely helpless.

Unless and until Skylar returned, Kennedy would remain exactly where she was, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, bound, gagged, and helpless.