by Van ©2017
		Chapter 7

Kelly squirmed in her shoulders-to-big-toes rope bonds and fought the straps belting her into the antique wheelchair.  Her struggles weren't especially violent and she hadn't suddenly decided she had any chance whatsoever of wiggling out of her bondage and getting away, but she couldn't just sit there.  Kelly was nervous.  Emily was wheeling her into the unknown, to maybe an unfurnished room in the attic... or maybe an empty closet... or a hitherto unsuspected Castle York dungeon.  She was also dealing with the aftermath of watching Cook moisturize the helplessly bound and deliciously naked body of Mistress Alice, their super-hot senior employer.  So, Kelly was nervous and horny... again... as evidenced by the purring of her rope-cleaved pussy... again.

One long descent in the elevator later... Kelly learned that the "Timeout Room" was in the basement.  Emily wheeled her past the washer and dryer used to deal with the fraction of Castle York's dirty clothing that wasn't outsourced to a commercial laundry, past the mansion's massive heat-pump/furnace, and past rows of shelves laden with cardboard boxes and plastic storage containers.  Even super-rich, super-nice ladies have clutter in their basements, Kelly thought.  Who knew?  Actually, Kelly knew.  She was already aware of the shelves and boxes, but she'd never taken the time to explore the entire basement, something she now regretted.

Emily wheeled Kelly across the full length of the semi-dark space.  The lighting became more and more dim as they passed more shelves, support columns—some red brick and some thick steel posts—even more shelves of increasingly decrepit antique luggage covered with dust, and finally came to a steel door studded with bolts and set in a steel frame.  Kelly watched as Emily took a long key with wards on both sides down from a hook beside the door and used it to unlock a heavy, high-security padlock.  Emily then threw back a large bolt and swung the door open, and if the wheels of the wheelchair could use a drop or two of oil, the three massive hinges of the thick and obviously quite heavy door could use a generous squirt each.  The creak as Emily muscled the portal open was ominous... as well as somewhat theatrical.

The space beyond was dark—until Emily flipped a switch on the outside wall.

Kelly blinked in the sudden blue-white light and found herself staring at a twenty by twenty foot cell with an eight foot ceiling—and she could only characterize the space as a "cell".  The walls were of close-set, rough-faced concrete blocks with minimal mortar lines, the floor was poured concrete, and the ceiling was a solid expanse of thick, heavy wooden timbers.

Oh-by-the-way... across the cell and lying on the floor was a thick, wide steel collar atop a gleaming pile of heavy-duty steel chain, the end of which was attached to a heavy steel ring-bolt solidly embedded in the wall.

So... Castle York does have a dungeon, Kelly realized.  Wow!  Also... Oh-no!

Emily wheeled Kelly into the cell and close to the far wall, then lifted the collar and—"Mrrrk?"—snapped it closed around Kelly's neck!  The bound and hooded captive blinked in horror (and with a slight shiver of arousal) as the smiling cook used a small key to double-lock the collar.

"There," Emily said as she released the safety straps, lifted Kelly from the chair, and eased her to the hard floor.  "Wait here," she ordered, then wheeled the chair out the door.

Back in the cell, Kelly watched as the door creaked closed.  "Mrrrk?"  She heard the bolt slide home with a solid thud.  She assumed Emily also secured the massive padlock, but the door was too thick for her to hear the sound.  "MRRRK!"  Her Gwen-hood-stifled scream echoed in the cell, but met with no response.

Kelly's heart was hammering again, but her pussy had stopped purring.  She supposed that was progress... or something.  A shiver shook her tightly bound body.  She'd already clocked several hours of languishing up in the Yoga Studio, and now she'd was to continue languishing? ...locked in a dungeon cell? ...with a steel collar around her neck and chained to the wall?

Her pussy gave a perfunctory quiver, but continued being overwhelmed by the situation.

I suppose this is super-advanced languishing, Kelly mused.

Minutes passed.

She noticed there were additional steel ring-bolts embedded in the wall... meaning walls, all three walls without a door, as well as the ceiling.  Only the ring-bolt tethering her collar was attached to anything, but the other bolts were there.  She didn't bother taking a count.  She'd keep that super-fun activity in reserve... for when she got bored.

More minutes passed.

Kelly's super-advanced languishing continued, and she weakly squirming and rolling on the floor of the irritatingly well-lit dungeon.  She estimated the length of the chain tethering her to the wall was insufficient for her to even touch the closed and locked door, not even if she slithered and rolled until the chain went taut, she was as close to the door as was humanly possible, and reached out with her cord-bound toes.  She decided not to perform the exercise required to validate her estimate.  It would be the very definition of a futile effort.  Maybe later, she decided, after the ring-bolt count and when I'm even more bored with super-advanced languishing.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of the door's sliding bolt being thrown back.  There was a brief pause... and the door creaked opened.

"Mrrrf?"

Mistress Wendy was standing in the doorway.  Her feet were bare and she was still wearing her usual jeans and blouse.  She hadn't yet changed for bed.

Wendy smiled at Kelly.

Kelly stared at Mistress.

"You look very beautiful like that, Kelly," Wendy sighed, then stepped forward and knelt at Kelly's feet.  "All naked and helpless."  She began untying Kelly's big-toes, feet, and ankles.  "I know it's silly to gush like a schoolgirl, but you're very beautiful."

Uh, by all means, gush away, Kelly thought, as long as you keep untying me.

The untying did continue... all the way up to and including the knotted crotch-rope formerly cleaving Kelly's pussy and butt-cheeks.  Wendy also produced a key, unlocked the collar, and the collar and chain clattered to the floor.

"Up you come," Wendy chuckled as she lifted Kelly to her feet, then gestured to the door.  "Go."

Kelly blinked in surprise.  She was still bound at the wrists, waist and forearms, elbows, and upper arms and torso.  She was also still Gwen-hooded, of course, so she couldn't ask the obvious question: Go where?

"Go," Wendy reiterated, giving Kelly a teasing slap on her left butt-cheek.

"Mrrrk!"  Kelly favored the junior mistress with a wounded pout, then turned and strode from the cell.  Hours and hours of languishing in the Yoga Studio, she thought, but only a few minutes in the 'Timeout Room'.  I didn't even have time to get used to the weight of the collar.

"So very beautiful," Wendy sighed as she followed her temporary maid, turning off the cell lights and closed the heavy door as they left.  "Those pretty green eyes?  I should keep you hooded all the time."

Cheeks burning, Kelly padded back across the basement in the direction of the stairs.  At least she didn't call me 'adorable' this time.

Kelly wouldn't know 'til they got there, but their ultimate destination was Wendy's bedroom, and this time the elevator went unused.  She trudged up the stairs with Mistress Wendy close behind in response to the verbal direction "Up," then went "Left" or "Right" at each subsequent turn, as ordered.  Kelly could almost hear the smile curling her Mistress' coral lips as she padded along.  It was humiliating, degrading, and... sexy... not to mention arousing, in a horrible, horrible manner that made Kelly want to flee and... escape.  Perhaps she could sprint ahead, somehow find Emily, and throw herself on the mercy of the cook.  Maybe Emily would hide her from Evil Mistress Wendy and keep her safe... or maybe Evil Cook Emily would hide her so she could keep her for herself and do horrible, horrible things to her in Wendy's place.  In either case, Kelly knew she wasn't going to win a footrace with Wendy, not bound and gagged, so why bother even thinking about it?

As they passed the closed door of Mistress Alice's bedroom Kelly listened, but couldn't hear a buzzing sound or anything else to suggest a Hitachi wand was entertaining Alice's naked, bound, and muzzle-gagged body.  The door was thick, so maybe Emily had returned and was diligently diddling their senior employer, or maybe Alice was still "enjoying" her preliminary languishing period.  Kelly and her junior employer padded past the door with the issue unresolved.

They continued down the hallway 'til Wendy stepped forward, opened her bedroom door, and gestured for Kelly to enter.

Kelly crossed the threshold and looked around.  Everything was as usual.  She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but Wendy's large, luxurious bedroom hadn't suddenly sprouted dangling chains, designer stocks, fancy pillories, or custom designed whipping racks.  How entirely... normal, Wendy thought with a hood-muffled sigh.

"Bathroom," Wendy ordered, then followed her captive maid into the luxurious attached bath.  She lifted the commode seat cover, pointed to the bowl, and gave her next command: "Tinkle."

The Gwen hood was still covering most of Kelly's cheeks, so she may or may not have blushed, but it was humiliating, degrading, sexy, etc., to be required to tinkle on command... but she managed.  She even managed to limit her reaction to a little squirming and a single whining, hood-muffled complaint—"Mrrr!"—when Wendy embraced her from the side and used a warm, wet washcloth to very thoroughly clean her crotch area afterwards.  She glanced in the mirror and noted Mistress Wendy's shameless smile as the washcloth did its job.  Wendy was beautiful... in a humiliating, degrading, and sexy sort of way.

The needs of Kelly's bladder dealt with, her stomach was next.  Wendy led her to back into the main bedroom and pointed at the loveseat of a conversation group in front of a low coffee table.  "Sit."

Kelly gracefully planted her bare bottom on the loveseat.  Resting on the coffee table were three items: a crumpled brown paper bag, a moisture-beaded bottle of Sam Adams Boston Lager, and a bottle opener.  Her tummy grumbled as she watched Wendy open the bag and produce a modest pile of paper napkins and a sandwich (Kelly assumed it was a sandwich) wrapped in white paper.  Wendy opened the paper... and it was a sandwich... and not just any sandwich.  Kelly found herself staring at a preposterously ginormous pile of thick-sliced pastrami between two slices of rye bread slathered with yellow mustard!

All New Yorkers fall into three categories: (1) those who prefer their pastrami sandwiches thick-sliced/thick-chopped, Katz's Deli-style; (2) those who like them thin-sliced, Carnegie Deli-style; and (3) those who can't decide.  There's a fourth category of unfortunate souls who don't care for pastrami, thick- or thin-sliced, but there's no accounting for some people's lack of taste.  There are even people who think Chicago-style Deep-Dish pizza is actually pizza, so what ya gonna do?  Anyway, Kelly was solidly in the first category, but she was also laced and buckled in a tight-fitting Gwen hood!

Kelly tore her gaze from the sandwich and batted her big-green-eyes at Wendy.  "Mrrrrrk!"

Wendy's smile broadened and she proceeded to unbuckle and unlace the Gwen hood, then gently ease it from Kelly's head.  "Here you go," she purred.  She used the opener to pop the cap off the beer bottle, then held it to Kelly's lips.

Kelly took a drink, then licked her lips and watched Wendy also take a hit off the bottle.  The smiling ginger then spread a paper napkin in front of Kelly and carefully picked up half the sandwich—and she had to be careful as, like any proper Katz's-style pastrami-on-rye, the frikkin' thing was HUGE!  Kelly's mouth was watering.

"Are you angry with me for tricking you into bondage and abandoning you for all those many long hours?" Wendy inquired.

Kelly's eyes were on the sandwich.  "Oh, sure.  Livid.  After we eat I'm really gonna give you a piece of my mind."

"After we eat?" Wendy chuckled as she moved the sandwich-half closer and Kelly took an enormous bite.

Kelly chewed and swallowed, savoring the scrumptious, spicy goodness before answering.  "You don't expect me to eat this entire thing by myself, do you?"

"Point taken," Wendy purred, then held the mountain of cured meat steady for Kelly's second bite.  "Seriously?  Livid?"

Kelly chewed and swallowed.  "Livid."  She nodded at the beer and Wendy held it for her to take another drink.

The meal continued.  Kelly consumed about three-fifths of the sandwich and two-thirds of the beer.  Wendy ate and drank the rest.  They shared the pickle 50/50.

When the last of the sandwich was consumed and Wendy had dealt with the trash, they adjourned to the bed.

Kelly went kicking and screaming, of course, but what could she do?  Kelly was naked and thoroughly tied up from shoulders to waist and Wendy was super-nice, super-hot, and in charge.  The maid was "dragged" from the loveseat, "forced" to recline on the neatly made bed, and "compelled" to watch as Mistress unbuttoned and removed her blouse, unzipped and peeled out of her designer jeans, unclasped and removed her bra, then slithered out of her panties.  It was a veritable striptease!  It was horrible; however, Kelly managed to keep the leering smile from her lips and the appreciative twinkle from her eyes... more or less.

Gloriously nude, Wendy climbed onto the bed, pulled her captive maid into a warm embrace, and they kissed.  Lips smacked, tongues probed, etc., etc.  It was long and deep and wet.  A real humdinger.  Also, boobs were pressed into boobs, nipples slipped across nipples, thighs slid against thighs, and hands caressed rope-dimpled flesh.  The hands were Wendy's, of course, and the flesh was Kelly's, because Kelly's hands were bound behind her back and pinned against her spine, unable to caress much of anything, and Wendy's flesh was definitely not rope-dimpled.

Finally, they came up for air.

Wendy smiled at Kelly and Kelly smiled back.  Then, Wendy kissed Kelly's left breast.  "As good as Lin?" she inquired.

Kelly made a show of considering the question.  "Well... in terms of complexity... I'm working with a limited sample size and Lin's composition was artistic, with aesthetic bonus points... but I'd say your bondage skills are nearly on a par with Mistress Lin's.  Knot placement, tension control, inescapability...  Yes, I'd say you're just about as good."

Wendy chuckled and gave Kelly's left nipple a gentle (and warning) squeeze.  "That wasn't what I was referring to, Silly Goose."

"Oh, you mean your makeout skills," Kelly purred.  "So far so good."

The kiss resumed and Kelly gathered more data.

"Okay, you'll do," Kelly conceded the next time they took a breather.

"Oh, I'll do, all right," Wendy chuckled, and her right hand slid between Kelly's legs to caress the shivering maid's labia.  "Stop that," Wendy chuckled when Kelly closed her legs on her hand.  "Stop squeezing your thighs together.  I'll bind you in a full split if I have to."

"Y-yes, Mistress," Kelly whispered, relaxing her thighs and spreading her legs.  She continued shivering.  If Wendy's hand kept up what it was doing much longer...  Kelly bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

"A friend of mine is throwing a party later in the week," Wendy announced.

Kelly filed this bit of news under Who the Hell Cares?  Mistress hand continued diddling her silly, doing what the rough knotted-crotch-rope had been unable to accomplish in the yoga studio, and Kelly responded.  And then... just as Kelly was about to cum, Mistress dropped her next bombshell.

"You'll be coming as my plus-one," Wendy whispered in Kelly's ear.

Amidst the exploding fireworks of orgasm, this information took awhile to register, but eventually Kelly managed to respond.  "I'll be yer date?"

"After a fashion," Wendy confirmed, her hand continuing to glide, prolonging Kelly's ecstasy.  "It'll be fun.  Lin will be there."

Kelly had to survive a series of orgasmic aftershocks before answering.  "Lin.  That's good."

Wendy slowed the pace of her rhythmic caress, metaphorically easing Kelly back down to earth.  "Lin will be very good," she purred.  "I promise."

"Uh huh," Kelly agreed.  The subtle emphasis of Mistress response had been lost in the afterglow.

Dawn arrived... as usual.

The party Mistress had mentioned while diddling her in the bedroom very nearly fell out of Kelly's head.  She had other things on her mind, like...

What to do about Emily?

Obviously, the bubbly Brit was much more than Castle York's cook.  Emily was a player, but how much of a player?  Also, Kelly had thought she was the designated expediter-of-Mistress-Alice's-nocturnal-bondage-fun, but last night she'd discovered Cook performing the task, and it was an enhanced version!  Kelly felt somewhat insulted.  She wasn't good enough to strap Mistress to her bed, naked?  (Meaning Mistress naked, not Kelly.)  And slather her body with moisturizer?  (Meaning Mistress' body, not Kelly's.)  All Mistress had to do was ask... and strip... although Kelly would be more than happy to do that as well.  (Meaning stripping Mistress, not herself.)

And where did Emily get off changing into super-sexy, super-skimpy nighties and trundling Kelly around in wheelchairs and locking her in basement dungeons?  Obviously, it was well past time for Kelly to confront Emily and clear the air... so she did the exact opposite.  She chickened out.  Emily was the one who had to bring it up.

"I want you to know you have nothing to fear from me, Kelly," Emily said as they ate breakfast in the kitchen.  Cook was being her usual irritatingly perky, bubbly, smiling self.

Kelly blinked in surprise, a slice of bacon halfway to her open mouth.  "Uh, say what?"

"As Cook I may be your senior, both in position and time in service," Emily declaimed, "but I won't take advantage of the situation, or of you."

"Why not?" Kelly frowned, "uh, I mean... take advantage?"

Emily's smile turned coy.  "You should realize that a great many unusual and interesting things happen in York House."

"No, ya think?" Kelly drawled.

"And it includes our employers' circle of friends," Emily added.

"Again," Kelly said evenly, "ya think?"

"Silly Goose," Emily giggled.  "In any case, your role in the household will unfold in the natural course of time, so I suggest you simply perform your duties and enjoy yourself."

"My role," Kelly sighed.  "I don't suppose you could be a little more specific?"

"Oh, Kelly," Emily said gravely.  "I'm only the cook."

Kelly rolled her eyes.  "I'm so glad we've cleared things up," she muttered as she carried her empty breakfast plate to the sink.  "I've got work to catch up on.  Also, bite me."

Emily laughed as Kelly stomped from the kitchen.  "Silly Goose!" she reiterated as the kitchen door swung closed.

Both York sisters had already left the mansion, dressed for business and off to breakfast meetings to expedite the frightfully important stuff they did when not making life kinky and confusing for their temporary live-in maid, so Kelly was free to scamper around and complete all of her assigned chores-of-the-day as well as clear the accumulated backlog.

That night Wendy returned home bearing gifts in the form of a garment bag and a shoe-box.

"Your costume for the party," Mistress explained as she handed Kelly the bag and box.

Kelly's response was a blushing smile and mild confusion.  "Uh... so... it's a costume party?"

"No," Wendy chuckled as she strolled towards her bedroom to change.  "You're welcome!"

"Uh, thank you!" Kelly belatedly called after her super-nice employer, then hurried to her room to examine her unexpected windfall.

The shoe-box contained, much to Kelly's expectation, shoes.  Specifically, it was a pair of black, strap-on pumps with three-inch heels.  "Nice!" Kelly gasped as she gave them a thorough examination.  They had to be expensive.  She didn't recognize the label, but they were nicer than any pair she currently owned.  Kelly sat on her bed, eased off her clunky, sensible maid-shoes, then tried on the pumps.  They were comfortable, the mark of well-made footwear, and the straps were stylish and... hefty.  They didn't look hefty, but the leather was strong and well-stitched and the buckles anything but flimsy.

At least there aren't padlocks, Kelly thought as she admired herself in the full-length mirror.  She hadn't expected Mistress to gift her with a pair of kinky bondage shoes; but then, she didn't know what kind of party she'd been invited to attend... other than it not being of the costume variety.  Anyway, they were very nice, very hot shoes.

As for the contents of the garment bag, it was also very nice and very hot.  It was a little black dress!

"Wow!" Kelly gasped as she held the dress against her maid's uniform and body.  There was only one way to get the full effect, of course, so she tossed the dress on her bed and removed said uniform.

As LBDs went, this one was skimpy—mini-skirt short, with a low back, a deep, cleavage displaying neckline, and a pair of spaghetti straps that tied as a halter top at the nape of her neck.  Kelly removed her bra, then squirmed into the clingy dress and closed its short zipper, no problem.  Securing the halter ties with a neat bow was similarly trouble free.

Kelly turned and smiled at herself in the mirror.  "Mmmm...  Scarlett Johansson eat your heart out."  The dress was reminiscent of the saucy little number Black Widow had worn in the first Avengers movie, when she was tied to a chair and proceeded to kick the butt of her supposed interrogators.  "I'll need black pantyhose," Kelly decided as she continued turning and admiring herself, "and no panties.  The lines show."  It was true.  The lines of her current panties were clearly visible, and that just wouldn't do.  It would have to be pantyhose and nothing else.  Luckily, meaning by design, the breast cups were lined.

"I'm gonna look sooooo hot," Kelly sighed.  She resolved to properly and politely thank Wendy for the dress and shoes the next time she saw her.  She wouldn't gush or anything, of course.  Best to play it cool, but Wendy would know she was grateful.  And without a doubt, the night of the party she was gonna look hot!

The Big Night arrived with Wendy still being mysteriously uninformative about where they were going.  It was early evening when they climbed into the back of a town car and left Castle York.  Kelly was in her new LBD and high heels, of course, and Wendy in a nearly as skimpy cocktail dress in a very pretty shade of emerald green.  She looked gorgeous (in Kelly's humble opinion) and Kelly didn't look so shabby herself (also in her humble opinion).

After a short ride, only slightly impeded by Manhattan traffic, they arrived at a brownstone similar to Castle York.  They had to wait while two other vehicles disgorged partygoers... then it was their turn.  Kelly went first, then helped her employer from the car.  They climbed the steps and were admitted to the brownstone by a rather handsome gentlemen wearing an expensive suit and holding a guest list.

On the far side of the entryway they were greeted by a woman in a very attractive red dress.  Her dark hair was coiled in a stylish coif and she was very beautiful, with striking blue eyes.  Kelly watched as Wendy and the brunette exchanged air-kisses and hugs.  Obviously, she was another of Wendy's friends—and oh-by-the-way, Kelly recognized her!  It was the visitor to Lin's studio, the woman who had gazed at Kelly when she was tied to Lin's clear acrylic post with Lin's multicolored ropes on Lin's image-capture stage!

"Joan," Wendy said as she released the brunette.

"Wendy," the brunette countered.

Kelly blinked, her lips curled in a frozen smile as, side-by-side, Wendy and Joan turned to smile at her.

"Joan, this is my maid and companion, Kelly," Wendy said.

Companion?  Cool!  Kelly shook Joan's offered hand.  "Pleased to meet you."

"Welcome, Kelly," Joan purred.  "You have very pretty eyes... very green... very memorable."

"Uh, thanks," Kelly muttered.  'Memorable?'  Does she recognize them... meaning me?  How could she?

Joan gestured to a side room.  "You can get ready in the cloak room.  I've laid out the item you requested on a side table."

"Excellent," Wendy said, then led Kelly through the door.  "We'll see you in the party."

Kelly could hear party sounds echoing from further inside the mansion, but docilely followed her employer into the "cloak room."  A long rack held various coats and wraps and there was a side table, just as Joan had said.  And resting on the table...

"Huh?"  Kelly found herself staring at a black leather armbinder!

"Uh... wow."  Kelly had seen plenty of photos and illustrations of armbinders before, online and in books.  This one was classic... and classy.  The leather had a slightly pebbled finish and shone warmly under the overhead lights.  It was the kind that zipped closed, and had a pair of long, thin straps at the top to yoke and/or crisscross the wearer's shoulders.  There was also a pair of much shorter and broader straps at the wrist and elbow regions that secured by means of three tiny straps and buckles each.  It was a high-end product, obviously well-made and expensive, par for the course with the York sisters and their friends.

"Tonight's party is actually one of Lin's performance pieces," Wendy said.  "Joan is our hostess, but Lin has specified all the details of the occasion."

"Like the menu?" Kelly said as she stared at the armbinder.  She shifted her gaze to Wendy.  "I'm hungry."

"Silly Goose," Wendy chuckled, then nodded at the armbinder.  "Lin requires that a certain proportion of the guests should be restrained, to establish the ambiance."

Kelly nodded.  "So... you want me to zip and buckle you into that thing?"

Wendy laughed.  "Actually, Kelly, it goes better with your outfit... don't you think?"

Kelly realized her heart was hammering.  "I should have known," she sighed, staring at the armbinder.  "I didn't, but I should have."  She sighed again, then locked eyes with Wendy.  "Actually... I guess I knew something, but not that, or this, or..."  She turned and placed her hands behind her back.  "Get on with it."

Wendy spun Kelly back around—planted a deep, long kiss on her startled lips—spun her around, again, then picked up the armbinder.

"I'm so grateful to Bess for sending you to us," Wendy said as she slid the conical sleeve up Kelly's arms and slowly, carefully zipped the zipper closed.

"You're grateful to Bess?" Kelly demanded as the straps yoked her shoulders and were buckled to the top of the binder.  "I'm the one letting you, uh, bondagize me for a party.  I don't even know these people... except for Lin... and this 'Joan' person."

"I'm grateful to you and Bess," Wendy chuckled, then quickly, deftly secured the elbow and wrist straps' many buckles.  "There, prepared for the party in accordance with Lin's instructions... almost."

Kelly twisted her arms and tested the binder.   It was just as tight and restrictive as she'd always thought such a thing would be.  "Almost?"

She watched as Wendy opened a drawer in the side table and produced a black leather collar and matching leash.

"I should have known," Kelly huffed as Wendy fit the collar around her neck, buckled it closed in the back, then clipped the end of the leash to the steel ring dangling from the front.  The collar and leash had the same finish as the armbinder, but whereas the binder was relatively thin and pliant (except for the elbow, and wrist straps), the collar was thick and somewhat stiff.  It in no way restricted Kelly's breathing, but it was choker-tight and she could feel its presence with every breath. 

"Perfect," Wendy sighed as she slid her right wrist through the leash's terminal loop.  "Ready to meet Joan's other guests?"

Her heart hammering (and her carotid arteries throbbing against the collar), Kelly affected her best petulant pout.  "What if I say no?"

Wendy's smile broadened.  "Than I suppose I'd have to bother Joan for the loan of one of her many gags, as well as a riding crop from her extensive flagellation collection.  But then you'd miss out on the food and drink."

"There is that," Kelly groused, then heaved the required and expected theatrical sigh.  "Okay... let's do this thing."

Wendy planted a quick kiss on Kelly's forehead, then took in the slack in the leash and led her from the cloak room.

It wasn't a huge party.  Joan's place wasn't packed, but there were dozens of guests in the many sitting rooms and parlors.  All were smartly dressed and a wide range of different ages and every ethnic group in the city was represented.  Most were women, but there were tuxedo-clad men present.

Also, a small proportion of the chatting and circulating attendees were... restrained.  One tall blonde's wrists were handcuffed behind her back, a thirty-something brunette in a blue dress was in a straitjacket (which Kelly thought was very cool!), and a dude in a tuxedo was walking around in a box-tie.

And most remarkable of all, a short blonde with a pixie-cut, like Kelly's, was naked!  Nude!  Starkers!  That is, she was naked if you didn't count the steel chastity-belt locked around her loins.  She was across the room and her hands were behind her back so Kelly couldn't see how or if they were bound.  Instead of a collar, a light steel chain clipped to a ring in the front of the chastity-belt tethered her to the elegant hand of a forty-something brunette in a dress spangled with gold and silver seed-beads.

None of the restrained guests or their escorts were in the immediate area, and Wendy seemed focused on leading Kelly deeper into the mansion.

"Let's find Lin, then track down the buffet," Wendy suggested (decreed), smiling and waving at various acquaintances as they crossed the floor to a distant doorway.

"Whatever," Kelly said.  She was still staring at the naked little blonde.  She was twenty-something and about 5' 2", maybe shorter, very cute, and seemed to be enjoying herself.

Wendy led the way down a short hallway to a large open space.  A crowd of partygoers was clustered around a circular platform under a bank of bright spotlights.  They continued forward... the crowd parted... and Kelly got her first clear look at what was garnering so much attention.

Kelly's eyes popped wide, she opened her mouth to scream, and—"MRRRF!"—it didn't happen.  Quick as a bunny Wendy had embraced her from the side and had her right hand clamped over Kelly's mouth.

"Hush," Wendy whispered in Kelly's ear.  "This is Lin's performance.  Don't make a scene."

Kelly's eyes were still wide.  Make a SCENE??  It was one of Robert Bishop's most memorable illustrations come to life, one drawn for his Fanni Hall series!  Lin was balanced on her splayed knees and leaning forward against a post with her ankles crossed and her fingers, hands, and arms lashed together behind her back.  An elaborate web of thin rope crisscrossed and dimpled her arms every few inches and she was supporting herself by biting down on a hard rubber plug clamped to a vertical steel post.  Her knees were tied to staples on the platform.  There was no question but that the pose had to be painful, and increasingly so with every passing minute!

As Kelly recalled, Bishop's damsel, a Hong Kong cop captured by sadistic kidnappers, had been forced to either gag and support herself with a similar plug, or impale herself on a steel spike.  It had been lethal predicament bondage.  However, Lin's "performance piece" was non-lethal predicament bondage.  Like Bishop's captive cop, Lin might have been able to extricate herself from the two-inch plug filling her mouth, but if she did so, she'd fall forward and cause a pair of clover-style nipple-clamps to tighten.  The clamps in question were already tight, linked by taut wire cables to a clamp screwed to the post and stretching Lin's rope-framed breasts into pink cones.

"Mrrrf!" Kelly whined through Wendy's hand.  If Lin did manage to ease herself off the mouth-plug, it wouldn't be pretty.  She might be able to catch herself against the post as she fell forward, but the tit-clamp's cables would definitely tighten even further, and if she slid down the post...

"Lin has always resisted having her nipples pierced," Wendy whispered in Kelly's left ear.  "Those clover-clamps have a special feature.  If sufficient pressure is applied... a pair of needles pierce each nipple and lock, then the attachment chains snap off.  Her choice is simple, suffer in the decidedly uncomfortable bondage you see before you, or finally allow her pretty nips to be pierced."

Kelly continued staring at Lin in horror.  The artist's smooth, firm skin was beaded with sweat and her eyes were closed in concentration.  Suffer... or let your nipples get pierced, Kelly thought.  At least it's better that Bishop's damsel's predicament.  That was suffer or die!

"Will you be a good girl?" Wendy whispered.  Kelly nodded... and Wendy removed her hand.

"She's... in pain." Kelly whispered.  "She has to be."

Wendy nodded.  "Suffering for her art."

"She'll be rewarded," a familiar voice said quietly.

Kelly tore her gaze from Lin's "art" to find Joan smiling and standing at their side.  Their hostess handed a flute of champagne to Wendy, then held a second flute so Kelly could take a sip.  "If Lin survives the night with nipples intact," Joan purred, "I've promised to pose for one of her sculptures."  She took a sip of champagne, then held the flute for Kelly to take a drink, again.  "And if her nipples do wind up perforated, several of her friends are prepared to gift her with sets of custom designed nipple shields and rings."

"Gold, silver, platinum," Wendy purred.

"Diamonds, sapphires, opals," Joan added, "all exquisite works of art."

Kelly returned to staring at Lin.

"There will be sex," Joan purred, "in either case,"  She then clinked flutes with Wendy.

As Kelly watched, a bead of sweat slid down Lin's brow, dripped down her cheek, then dropped to the platform floor.

Kelly's heart had been beating fast ever since Wendy "tricked" her into wearing the armbinder, but that had been nervousness and wicked anticipation.  But now, her heart was hammering, her breasts heaving, and her pulse throbbing against her collar with every heartbeat.  This was terror, a delicious terror she had never known.  Player or pawn, this was The Game at a whole new level!  But was she a spectator... or a player?

Bess... Kelly thought, what have you gotten me into?