by Van © 2020
Hook-Knife Quest occupied most of Sunday, including lunchtime,
and with no breaks.
Skye rolled, flopped, slithered, and squirmed her way from room
to room, her nude body bound from ankles to shoulders with hemp
rope, her big toes tied together with hemp cord, and her mouth
plugged with a perforated ball-gag. Unless Mistress was
pulling a hideously mean and totally uncalled
for prank, the knife that was the object of the quest was
"hiding in plain sight," but not necessarily visible from the
doorway of the room where it was hiding. That meant Skye
had to enter each and every room and convince herself the knife
wasn't there. Bummer.
Skye searched the entire first floor of Lacey's Lair (aka
Mistress' Mansion)... including, as Mistress had "thoughtfully"
left their doors ajar, the coat closet near the entryway, the
cleaning supplies closet, and the walk-in pantry just off the
kitchen. No joy.
And so... she laboriously made her way to the main staircase...
squirmed her way up to the second floor (with great difficulty)...
and the search continued.
Skye was aware that Lacey's Lair also had a back staircase,
but it would have to wait. If she explored it now, she'd
have to squirm her way down... then all the way back up again
before continuing her search of the second floor. That
would mean three excruciatingly difficult vertical trips, one of
which would be totally redundant. Best to go all the
way up to the attic, she decided, then down the entire
back staircase. And that would be necessary only if
she didn't find the knife first. Still, she was haunted by
the thought of the knife tucked against a riser on the back
stairs, far enough up that it couldn't be seen looking up from
the first floor, but low enough down that it couldn't be seen
looking down from the second floor. Now that would
By this time it was... mid afternoon? Anyway, Skye was
exhausted. She was also somewhat sweaty and in need of a
bath. She resolved to do an even better job of vacuuming
Mistress' floors and carpets from now on, but that didn't help
Progress was slow on the second floor. Very slow.
Skye was starting to flag.
And then... with Skye only halfway through the floor (and really
starting to flag), Mistress appeared and called a halt to
Skye was very disappointed... not! Once
untied (and un-gagged) she released her hair from its braid,
took a long, hot shower, then dragged her naked self to a
day-bed in a first-floor sitting room, and took a much needed
As always, dinner was delicious.
Afterwards, once the kitchen was clean, Mistress encased Skye's
hands in black leather fist-mitts, buckled her into a
box-tie-binder, binding her folded arms behind her back with her
forearms encased and her upper arms strapped together. It
was the exact same ensemble Skye had worn way back on Day One,
immediately after Mistress exposed her to her subterranean
torture chamber, only minus the body-harness of thin straps that
completed the system.
Mistress dragged (led) Skye to the Media Room and they settled
onto the plush, oversized sofa facing the gigantic, flat-screen,
wall-mounted television. All the 21st Century equipment in
the space (TV, cable-box, Blu-ray player, and speakers) were
tastefully blended into the Victorian decor, by the way.
Mistress really did have a nice mansion.
Once Skye was comfortably reclined, with her naked, semi-bound
body snuggled against Mistress' jeans and blouse-clad form,
Mistress used a remote control to power-up the system and
negotiate her way to the latest episode of The
Mandalorian. (Mistress didn't subscribe
to every streaming services, but Disney+ was on
The episode was excellent. But then, The Mandalorian was
always excellent. And The Child ("Baby Yoda") was
very cute. Something else that was par for the
course. Skye squirmed against Mistress' side as the end
credits rolled. "I love that show," she sighed.
Mistress kissed the top of Skye's head. "Me too," she
agreed, then turned off the system, stood, and lifted Skye into
"Weeeee!" Skye giggled as Mistress spun her around... then
carried her from the Media Room, down the hall, up the stairs,
and towards the Master Bedroom. Mistress was strong,
and Skye couldn't stop smiling. "I can walk," she offered.
"Hush," Mistress purred.
Skye smiled up at her Mistress' gorgeous face. She had a
dozen clever comebacks on the tip of her tongue, but orders were
orders. Still smiling, Skye closed her eyes and nestled
her head against Mistress warm, soft, blouse-covered (but
They shared the master bathroom to prepare for bed, with
Mistress rendering the assistance required by Skye's bound
condition. Mistress then led Skye to the bed, pulled back
the sheets, and Skye flopped down onto the mattress. She
squirmed until she was comfortable, then watched Mistress finish
undressing. Her hostess, teacher, and captor had already
removed her jeans and panties in the bathroom. How else
could she take her evening tinkle? That meant all that
remained was the removal of her already half-unbuttoned white
A thrill rippled down Skye's spine and through her pussy.
Mistress was taking her time and making a show of it. Not
overtly, of course, but subtly. A coy smile
just barely curled Mistress' lips and her pale blue eyes
were focused on nothing in particular (and especially not Skye)
as she slowly unrolled the blouses' long sleeves... unbuttoned
the remaining buttons... shrugged the white cotton garment off
her shoulders... then removed it completely. As had been
obvious all day, Mistress had not been wearing a bra,
so she was now completely, gloriously nude. After
days of nude yoga and naked exercise sessions and sharing
the same bed, ogling Mistress' beautiful body was hardly a novel
experience for Skye Gilroy, but the fair, firm, athletic,
curvaceous physique in question had lost none of its
fascination. The thrill continued quivering between Skye's
legs as Mistress carried her jeans, blouse, and panties into the
Skye continued shivering with the arousal that went with her
pathetic infatuation with her teacher. Then, Mistress
returned... and her smile faded. Why? A ring-gag
dangled from Mistress' right hand, and in her left were the
panties she'd carried into the closet and obviously hadn't
deposited in the dirty clothes hamper. The reason was
obvious, but Skye asked anyway.
"What are those for?" she politely inquired (meaning
pathetically whined), and nodded at the gag and panties.
Still smiling, Mistress sat on the edge of the bed and hauled
Skye's body onto her lap, face down.
"Hey!" Skye objected.
Mistress delivered a very businesslike smack to Skye's
left butt-cheek with her open palm.
"Ow! What was—"
Smack! (Right butt-cheek.)
"Mistress?" Skye exclaimed. "What was that for Mistress?"
"That's better," Mistress purred, then began gently massaging
her student's now slightly rosy derrière. "In answer to
your question, the gag is to dampen annoying noise, and the
panties will enhance the sound-dampening effect... should they
"I'll be able to spit it out, Mistress," Skye huffed. "I
mean spit them out, Mistress. 'Panties' are plural,
"Yes, 'panties' are treated like a collective noun," Mistress
purred. "But I'll treat them as mouth-stuffing if
you make any noise. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," Skye sighed.
Mistress proceeded to buckle the ring-gag around Skye's neck and
under her hair, but on its first hole. That placed it in
"necklace-mode," not propping her mouth open, but ready for
instant use. It also served as a constant reminder that
Skye was completely at her Mistress' tender mercy. Oh,
By the way, the ring of the ring-gag was black,
medical-grade, silicon-rubber, unlike any ring-gag Skye had seen
before, but as this was also the first ring-gag Skye
was actually seeing, other than on a computer screen, its
material composition was less remarkable than might have been
"Now..." Mistress rolled Skye off her lap and squirmed
next to her on the mattress. When arrangements were
finalized, Mistress and student were side-by-side and
comfortably reclined against a pile of pillows stacked against
the headboard. They were very comfy and cozy.
"It's time for your education in Dominatrix Services to
continue," Mistress purred. "Specifically, with respect to
The thrill between Skye's legs returned in spades, and she
swallowed nervously. Her smile had become a grimace... or
something. "Erotic?" she inquired (in a slightly terrified
squeal Mistress found to be quite delightful).
Mistress kissed Skye's freckled forehead. "Erotic," she
confirmed. "First, I'll repeat your introductory
Skye blinked her wide, green eyes and opened her mouth to object
(or something)—"Mrrrf!"—but was preempted by Mistress' right
hand clamping down over her mouth! Also, Mistress
intertwined Skye's legs with her own, preventing her from
closing her legs, rolling away, or otherwise impeding Mistress'
Mistress' left hand slid down Skye's torso and tummy to her
crotch. Skye noted that her boobs hadn't received a
preliminary squeeze, like last time. Her nipples pointed
and tingled in resentful neglect. And then, the
lesson began in earnest.
Hush," Mistress whispered in Skye's right ear, then gave the ear
a kiss... followed by a wet, probing lick!
"Mrrrf!" It was a hand-gag-muffled whimper, rather than a
shout or squeal. Mistress hand was slowly gliding across
Skye's labia and once again working its magic, and there was
nothing she could do to stop it! (As if she wanted to
"After finger-fiddling," Mistress purred, "we'll move on to the
use of vibrators. I have a suitable selection in the
middle drawer of the left night-stand."
The fiddling continued, as did the hand-gag and Skye's efforts
to miraculously burst her bonds and squirm her naked, glowing
body free of Mistress' strong arms and legs.
"Pay close attention to my timing," Mistress whispered.
"Eventually, you'll learn how to increase and decrease the level
of stimulation in order to prolong your subject's experience."
"You'll learn to sense when your subject is approaching
climax. Simply forcing an orgasm is a relatively
straightforward process, but holding your subject on the cusp
of orgasm and not allowing her release is much trickier,
a skill that only comes with experience and diligent
practice. It's also an especially exquisite form
"Mrrrrr!" I bet!
Mistress licked the side of Skye's neck. "And best of all,
it leaves no marks."
The next day
(Monday), Mistress let Skye sleep in, but over breakfast she
casually dropped a tactical nuclear bomb.
"I've cleared my schedule for the entire day," Mistress
That pesky thrill rippled between Skye's legs as she sipped her
coffee. "N-no clients?"
"Actually, one client," Mistress clarified.
"One client," Skye nodded (in amazement).
"Mistress," she added belatedly. Skye was finding it
difficult to concentrate on proper protocol. Mistress
Monjeau was wearing jeans and a very pretty, eggshell-white,
floral-print blouse with the sleeves rolled up and top three
buttons unbuttoned, and once again, no bra. Also, with her
gleaming black curls loose about her shoulders and a coy smile
curling her exquisite lips... it was distracting. And the
extended afterglow from last night's multi-orgasmic marathon
finger-fiddling/vibratory lesson wasn't making it easier.
"After your morning chores," Lacey continued, "you'll dress in
your first costume and help me entertain one of my oldest and
most treasured clients."
Skye blinked her big green eyes. "Costume?"
"It arrived last Wednesday," Lacey explained, "while you were
"Oh." Skye shrugged. I was probably locked in
the Special Guest Bedroom. She shook her head and
tried again. "Costume?"
"You'll see soon enough," Mistress purred.
And she did... after an interval of cleaning, vacuuming, and
towel replacement. Mistress took her by the hand, led her
to the master bedroom and into the walk-in closet, then lifted a
dress on a hanger from the rack holding her uniforms, and
introduced Skye to her first role-playing costume.
It was a "candy-striper" uniform, the sort of thing teenage
volunteers used to wear in hospitals—teenage girl volunteers.
It was a bib-style dress with red and white vertical pinstripes,
and to the best of Skye's knowledge, such outfits had been
obsolete for decades. Nowadays, both nurses and volunteers
wore "scrubs." The dress was decidedly retro. A
There was more! Completing with the outfit were...
● A white cotton blouse with short sleeves
and a pointed collar.
And conspicuous by their absence were...
● A pair of snow-white stockings.
● A frilly white garter belt.
● A pair of white, sneaker-like Sketchers.
● Any sort of underwear.
Skye considered garter belts "intimate apparel," but not
"underwear." She realized she could be wrong.
Anyway, there were no panties and no bra.
Mistress and Skye carried everything into the bedroom, and once
everything was arrayed on the foot of the bed, Mistress settled
into her easy chair, smiled, and supervised as her student
dressed herself. First came the stockings... then the
garter belt (Skye's first ever garter belt, but she
figured it out)... then the white blouse... and finally, the
And there she was. Skye was a frowning, pouting,
delightful/adorable candy-striper. That would be Mistress'
opinion, no doubt. She was also "commando," meaning sans
undies. Skye glared at her Mistress with hands on
hips. "I look ridiculous," she huffed.
"You look adorable," Mistress chuckled, then knelt,
helped Skye step into the white shoes, then tightened and tied
their laces. She then stood and led Skye to the dressing
table, plunked her candy-striper ass down on the bench, and
pointed to the comb and brush set and a shallow dish of hairpins
and cloth-covered elastics. "Put your hair up in a nice
bun," she ordered.
Skye heaved a petulant sigh, then followed her orders. She
glowered at her reflection as she fussed with her
hair. She also watched at Mistress's reflection as she
padded back into the walk-in closet. Soon, Skye was
sporting a neat ginger bun and her hands were in her lap.
Mistress returned to the main bedroom, smiling brightly.
In her hands was a typical (meaning stereotypical)
nurse's cap. It was white (of course), but prominent on
its headband was a large red cross.
"Really?" Skye whined.
"Really," Mistress confirmed, planted the cap atop her student's
head, and helped her pin it in place.
"Ridiculous," Skye huffed.
"Adorable," Mistress reiterated.
Skye continued glowering at her reflection. Unfortunately,
Mistress' opinion was the only one that mattered.
Candy-Striper Gilroy was adorable whether she wanted to be or
Mistress pointed to an assortment of cosmetics in a small
basket. "Make yourself adorable and pretty," she
commanded, "but don't get carried away. I want you pretty,
"Very funny, Mistress," Skye growled, then set to work. It
didn't take very long for Skye Gilroy to make herself
pretty. Arguably, she was pretty without any makeup.
Also the cosmetics Mistress had chosen perfectly complemented
her ginger hair color and peachy-pink, freckled
complexion. Prettiness already achieved, Skye reached for
the lipstick tube to apply the pièce de résistance.
She pulled off the cap, twisted the tube, and... "Cherry
red?" she objected. It was true. The lipstick was as
red as red could be. "I'll look..." She noted
Mistress dimpled smile in the mirror, and heaved a sigh.
"I know, adorable."
"Adorable," Mistress confirmed.
Skye heaved a petulant sigh, then carefully applied the bright
red lipstick. She delicately closed her lips on a facial
tissue to remove excess pigment, then gazed at her reflection
and heaved another sigh. She did look adorable,
in a cliché and decidedly retro and
sexy-but-only-semi-understated sort of way, but she didn't have
to like it.
"Now, wait here 'til things are ready," Mistress ordered as she
turned and padded towards the bedroom door, "and don't wrinkle
"Yes, Mistress," Skye huffed as Mistress make her casual (and
glamorous) exit. The bedroom door closed, she heard the click
of a key turning the lock, and Candy-Striper Gilroy was
alone. She rose to her Sketcher-clad feet, strolled into
the walk-in closet, and "admired" herself in the full-length
mirror-wall at the far end (the mirror-wall concealing a
cramped, inescapable languishing-cell on its far side).
A smile curled her cherry-red lips of her "pretty" face as she
gazed at her reflection and struck various poses. I am
adorable, she was forced to admit. Oh well.
Skye returned to the main bedroom, sat in the easy chair facing
the French doors leading out onto the deck, and gazed out at the
garden and backyard.
Suddenly, she focused on the French door's handles and her smile
faded. Is it possible? She stood and tried
the handle. Rattle-rattle-rattle. It was
locked. Mistress hadn't made a mistake. But
then, Mistress never made mistakes, so why should she
start now? It wasn't an escape attempt, of course, but it
would have served Mistress right to return to the bedroom,
suffer a flash of panic, then discover her student lounging out
on the deck.
Skye settled back into the easy chair, heaved yet another sigh,
crossed her white, stocking-clad legs, and returned to enjoying
the garden. The Chickadee and Nuthatch Gang was busy
looting Mistress' seed-feeder and drinking from the
birdbath/water-feature. The tiny songbirds were very cute
as they fluttered from tree-branch to feeder to tree-branch to
birdbath to tree-branch.
languished in the luxury of Mistress' master bedroom for
something like an hour. A whole hour! And
now that the candy-striper costume was a done deal, she had no
distractions. Mistress was going to make her help
entertain one of her clients! Okay, 'make' wasn't entirely
accurate. Skye wasn't totally reluctant.
Whatever Mistress had in mind would almost certainly be, uh,
amusing... meaning fun... see also arousing. That said...
There's no way Mistress is gonna make me do anything yucky,
is she? Skye asked herself. Mistress has waaay
too much taste for yucky stuff. Just look at the
decor. Just look at the way she dresses... when she
Skye wasn't really worried, but it was enough to take a
little of the edge off the situation. Nothing was
happening between her legs. No anticipatory thrill.
Her pussy had adopted a wait-and-see attitude.
Finally... Click! The bedroom door opened
and Mistress reappeared—and Mistress had changed clothes!
Instead of jeans and a pretty floral print blouse, she was
wearing high-heeled pumps, stockings (or pantyhose), a very
flattering, heather-gray, summer-weight dress, and a white lab
coat. The presence or absence of underwear was TBD.
Mistress' hair was still loose about her shoulders, framing her
gorgeous, smiling face (and ample bosom, as the cut of the
blouse and the open lab coat were allowing the display of significant
cleavage). Given the context of Skye's uniform,
Mistress looked very medical, but in a very
contemporary way. She was in no way retro, unlike
"All right," Mistress said brightly, "everything's ready, so off
we go!" She took Skye by the hand and led her from
the bedroom. "And until further notice, you're to address
me as 'Doctor.' Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," Skye responded.
Mistress squeezed Skye's hand. Her grip was a firm
Skye rolled her eyes. "Yes, Doctor," she muttered. Idiot!
Get it together. Her heart was pounding and she was
nervous. Understandable? Yes, but she had to get
over it and and get it together.
Their journey towards the 'it' in question led down the stairs
to the first floor... on to the kitchen... then down to the
basement. Everything underground was exactly the same as
the last time Skye had been there (which was the last time she'd
done the laundry); but this time, Mistress led her to the Secret
Sliding Wall that sealed off the torture chamber, as well as the
many still unknown chambers!
Skye resolved to closely but surreptitiously determine exactly
how Mistress triggered the mechanism that opened the wall, but
Mistress stymied her efforts with a simple command: "Close
your eyes, darling."
Skye pouted, heaved a sigh, and closed her eyes. After
all, Mistress was Mistress. She heard the rumbling noise
that went with the Secret Sliding Wall opening... Mistress led
her across the unseen threshold... then the noise repeated as
the wall closed.
"You may open your eyes," Mistress purred (in an amused tone
that Skye didn't find to be at all irritating), and
they continued forward.
Mistress' Sinister Subterranean Domain was exactly as Skye
remembered it, with its checkerboard of Cotswold-limestone-gold
and laurel-green vinyl tiles underfoot and sealed cinder block
walls. They passed steel door after closed steel door...
then Mistress paused, pulled a set of keys from her lab coat
pocket, and unlocked one of the doors. "Be a good girl,"
she admonished Skye as she pocketed the keys, then opened the
door in question.
Good girl, Skye silently pouted as Mistress (meaning
'Doctor') led her across the threshold. Why shouldn't
I be a good girl? Granted, her heart was hammering
and she might be sweating a little, but—Skye's green eyes popped
wide, she gasped in astonishment, trepidation, and/or
alarm), and her heart skipped a beat... maybe two.
The decor was the same as the hallway (and the Torture Chamber
somewhere behind one of the other steel doors), with
vinyl-tiled floor and sealed cinder block walls, but tucked
against the walls were stainless steel cabinets with glass-front
doors, the kind one sees in a hospital or clinic. The
lighting fixtures were appropriate for a surgical suite, and in
the center of the room was a stainless steel medical, surgical,
or whatever table with black padding and lots and lots
of side-rails, steel attachment points, and steel gears and
hand-wheels to allow the adjustment of a hypothetical patient's
However, the table held an actual patient, and she was
anything but hypothetical!
Reclined on her back on the table's padding was a naked woman
with long, wavy blond hair and quite obviously smooth, firm skin
with a rich tan. And as far as Skye could tell, it was an
allover rich tan. Her physique was athletic, with
defined muscles and very feminine curves. Her
boobs were magnificent (much like Mistress' hooters).
Ethnically, she was a Viking Queen, with gorgeous blue
eyes. Unfortunately, a ball-gag and a nose-to-chin and
ear-to-ear strip of off-white Elastoplast tape interfered with
Skye's appreciation of the woman's visage, but it was obvious
she was a rare beauty! And this was despite her being old,
like Mistress. She was... over forty!
And whoever she was, she wasn't on the table by choice.
A pair of curved steel brackets prevented her from sliding her exquisite
tan body towards the head of the table.
Her arms were extended to either side and bound to trough-like
steel extensions by brown, padded leather cuffs, one pair around
her wrists and a second pair around her biceps and upper arms.
Her legs were splayed widely apart, resting in a pair of
elevated, padded troughs, and bound in place by brown straps
tightly buckled around her legs above and below her bent knees and
her upper thighs. Her bare feet dangled in midair.
Additional straps pinned her torso to the table above and below
her breasts (which, as already mentioned, were magnificent),
across her tummy, and across her hips.
Finally, a padded collar was buckled around her neck and
strapped to the table, further pinning her in place. And
the collar was wide, very nearly what Skye recognized as a
All the cuffs and straps were lockable, meaning the tongues of
the buckles had the flanges required to accept mini-padlocks;
however only the wrist cuffs and the straps above and below her
knees were, in fact, padlocked. The Viking Queen, whoever
she was, would remain bound to the table until Mistress released
her. Skye certainly didn't have the required key.
"This table is new," Mistress purred, obviously for Skye's
benefit, "but the brown restraints go with an antique Victorian
examining table in another chamber, a place I call my Dr.
Frankenstein venue. I have modern Posey restraints
on order to match this table, but they haven't all
arrived." She indicated the surrounding chamber with a
graceful flip of her right hand. "I've christened this my
Bondage Clinic, in honor of Maestro Saudelli's Clinica
Skye nodded. Her gaze remained riveted on the gorgeous
Viking Queen. Skye was pretty sure Posey was a brand name,
and "Maestro Saudelli" was obviously Franco Saudelli,
the famous Italian bondage artist. Luckily, Skye's heart
had restarted and she was breathing again. However, her
sweating problem had grown slightly worse. Skye wasn't in
a flop sweat, but she was a tad... moist.
"Over here," Mistress called, and (with entirely understandable
reluctance) Skye tore her eyes from the captive Viking Queen and
joined Mistress/Doctor in front of one of the steel cabinets.
This particular cabinet had a waist-high, narrow shelf, thanks
to the exceptionally shallow glass-front cabinet directly behind
it. Through the glass Skye could see packages of various
kinds of medical tape, gauze squares, boxes of latex gloves,
and... other stuff. Resting on the shelf were an open box
of latex gloves, a box of medical-grade wipes (more or less
facial tissues), and a pump bottle neatly labeled "Therapeutic
And on the far left edge of the shelf was a glass petri dish,
and through its clear cover Skye could see a couple of very
pretty gold necklace-chains, a pair of gold hoop-earrings, and a
gold ring, but the ring were probably too decorative to be a
wedding band, in Skye's opinion. The jury was out as to
whether or not the Viking Queen was married.
And just to the left side of the cabinet, hanging from hangers
on a compact, free-standing, wheeled clothing rack, were the
skirt and jacket of a tan, summer-weight casual suit, a very
pretty lightweight blouse in an abstract, mottled print of gray
and salmon-pink on white, a very pretty matching set of
nude-colored panties and bra, and a pair of nude
pantyhose. Obviously, the Viking Queen had disrobed,
removed her jewelry and placed it in the petri dish, then
allowed herself to be strapped in place. Either that or
Mistress had used her invincible damsel handling skills to
subdue her and strip her naked. Anyway...
"Gloves," Mistress purred, pointing at the appropriate
box. "Then, lubricate the patient from head to toe, then
bring her to orgasm, repeatedly, until I return. Do you
Skye's heart stopped again. She waited for it to
restart... then nodded. "Y-yes, Doctor," Skye
stammered. And Skye was proud of herself for
remembering to call Mistress Doctor. Also, she was doing
her best not to quake in her Sketchers, swoon, and collapse to
the tiled floor.
"Good girl," Mistress purred, then leaned close and whispered in
her right ear. "I know you'll do the best you can.
But don't try anything fancy. Just diddle her 'til I
return. If your hands get tired..." Mistress slid
open the steel drawer beneath the table and Skye's green eyes
popped wide. In the drawer was a row of three silver,
wand-style vibrators, each nestled in a recharging stand.
"Remember," Mistress said in her normal voice, "until I return."
"Yes, Doctor," Skye answered, still gazing at the vibrators.
Mistress slid the drawer closed, planted a quick kiss on Skye's
slightly open mouth, then strolled to the chamber door.
"I'll be back in an hour... possibly two." And with that,
she opened the door, crossed the threshold, closed the door, and
That was the door locking, of course. Skye blinked a few
times, swallowed, pulled a pair of gloves from the appropriate
box, slid, stretched, and snapped them onto her
ever-so-slightly shaking hands with only minor difficulty, then
turned and walked towards the table and its captive Viking
Skye stared at the Viking Queen in question.
The Viking Queen stared back.
She was gorgeous, in Skye's humble opinion, as hot as
Mistress, in her Viking Queen sort of way. Skye's pussy
shivered in agreement. Apparently, it had finally made up
its mind. Time to play? Sure, why not? So...
how to proceed? Skye decided to go with her classic
Cheeky Monkey Mode. It was more or less her forte.
Skye locked green eyes with her patient's incredible blue orbs,
and smiled sweetly. "Hello," she said brightly. "My
name is Skye, and I'll be your therapist this morning.
This is my first time, but I'll try not to damage anything
The Viking Queen stared back in... haughty disdain? Skye
decided to go with haughty disdain, meaning tape and ball-gagged
haughty disdain. Skye couldn't help but heave a deep,
sincere sigh. Sweet Gwendoline she's beautiful!
Her pussy emphatically agreed. Skye pursed her lips in a
charming little moue of concentration, then looked down at her
latex-gloved hands. "Silly me." She giggled, batting
her green eyes at her patient (who glowered in return).
"I'll be right back."
Skye spun on her heels, strolled back to the steel
cabinet/table, pumped a generous dollop of lotion/lubricant onto
her gloved hands, rubbed them together, spun on her heels again,
and strolled back to her patient, resolving to give the Viking
Queen the "therapy" she so richly deserved.
| Chapter 12