by Van ©2018
		Chapter 12

Robin was in a bad way.  She was stringently, cruelly hogtied with her fingers, hands, and arms folded behind her back, encased in nylon stockings, and mummified with a zillion miles of silver-gray duct-tape.  Okay, she was mummified with most of a roll of silver-gray duct-tape... or a good chunk of a roll.  Robin wasn't sure, but it was a lot of tape.  Her ankles were still locked in steel shackles and the hobble-chain was a part of the hogtie, together with the hemp ropes binding her torso in a harness and frog-tying her folded legs!  Last but far from least, Robin's hair was braided, wrapped, bound with rope, then tied to her big toes!  It lifted her chin and added her ball-gagged head to the hogtie!  It was horrible!  Horrible!  Also cruel, evil, and totally unnecessary!

Poor Robin had been enduring this tortuous contortion for... for... minutes!  Minutes!  Multiple blocks of 60 seconds!

Also, Robin felt she'd deserved a good cry and had indulged herself.  That is, after the dungeon door squealed shut and she was abandoned to her Cruel Fate, bitter tears had dripped down her cheeks and splashed the canvas cover of the sleeping pad.  The Helpless Damsel wept and whimpered and inarticulately (as she was gagged) bemoaned her Undeserved Fate for... minutes!

A low level pussy-thrill was complicating the issue, but mainly Robin was reveling in her helplessness.  The situation was... complicated... like almost everything else that had happened in the last few days.

Enough moping, Robin decided, and began squirming, twisting, and exploring her stringent condition in earnest.

Ow!  My friggin' toes!  My scalp!  Moping isn't so bad.  What's wrong with moping?  Robin "relaxed" in her bonds and heaved a gagged sigh.  Surprisingly (begrudgingly), she was forced to admit that if she refrained from struggling, the hogtie wasn't that punishing... for now.  Later, she knew things would be different.  Even her habit of regular exercise and the occasional yoga session wouldn't be enough to keep the Cramp Monster at bay.

Saliva dripped from her ball-gagged mouth and joined the tears that had formed a small wet spot on the pad.

How long? Robin wondered.  How long is she gonna leave me like this?  It's torture!  Genuine torture!  (Or will be.)

As if on cue, her question was answered by the sound of the steel door's bolt being thrown back.  Thunk!  The door opened—Eeeeee!—and the "she" in question, the perpetrator of Robin's outrageous hogtie predicament, stepped into the dungeon alcove.

"Oh, my poor, brave Cupcake," Miriam sighed as she unlocked and opened—Eeeeee!—the barred gate and stepped into the dungeon proper.

Robin was facing both the door and gate and her ball-gagged and hair-bound head was involuntarily upturned, so she had a perfect view of Miriam.  The Wicked Witch/Mistress was wearing the same pretty printed dress as before and she was smiling (as usual).

Miriam stepped from Robin's field of view, sat on the pad and folded her legs to the side, then started fiddling with the rope linking Robin's big toes to her bundled hair.

What now? Robin though... then heaved a gagged, relieved sigh as the rope went slack.  She's untying me, Robin realized as Miriam continued teasing apart knots and releasing cinches and hitches.  The hogtie melted away... followed by the frog-tie ropes... followed by the torso-harness... followed by the hair-tie-rope.

Robin eased herself into a prone position, straightened her legs, then rolled onto her side and gazed up at her... rescuer?  Robin was still ball-gagged, shackled, her arms mummified in a nylon-tape-box-tie, and her neck locked in a steel cable-collar that tethered her to the dungeon wall, but progress was progress.  What now? Robin thought again, then watched as Miriam reached down the front of her dress, produced a key on a light chain and pulled it over her head.  Her Wicked Witch/Mistress then tossed her head to straighten her hair, leaned forward, and unlocked the modified padlock securing the collar!  Yes!  Miriam coiled the hemp ropes, closed and locked the now empty collar and placed it on the pad, then stood and strolled through the open gate, the open dungeon door, and into the basement.

Still reclined on her side on the sleeping-pad, Robin lifted her ball-gagged head and watched as Miriam stooped and returned the rope to the canvas shopping bag from which it had come, then tossed the bag aside.  She then clicked off the light in the dungeon, took several steps towards the basement stairs... then turned and smiled.

"Are you coming, Cupcake?"

Robin blinked a few times, then heaved herself to her shackled feet and clinked, clanked, and shuffled from the dungeon, following Miriam across the basement.  Miriam remained in the lead as they climbed the stairs and entered the kitchen.  Robin clinked past, Miriam closed the basement door (apparently to keep Robin from fleeing back to the safety of her dungeon cell), then strolled to the kitchen table and pulled back a chair.  Robin took the hint, shuffled over, and eased her naked butt onto the seat.  She watched as Miriam stepped to the refrigerator and opened the door.  Robin was overjoyed to be above ground, but...  "Mrrrrrmpfh!"

"I know, I know," Miriam chuckled as she closed the refrigerator door.  A can of Sprite was in her hand.  "Hold your horses, Cupcake."

Robin watched (with great interest) as Miriam filled a tall glass with ice at the dispenser on the refrigerator door, popped the top on the Sprite can, poured the contents into the glass, added a straw, and carried the glass to the table.  She then parted Robin's hair, unbuckled the ball-gag and re-secured it on the strap's first hole, then gently pulled the rubber sphere from Robin's mouth.  Robin licked her lips and worked her jaw.  "Thank you," she said in a near whisper, then leaned close to the table, captured the end of the straw with her lips, and sucked.  Yum!  Lemony-Limey goodness!

"You're welcome, Cupcake," Miriam purred.  She was smiling, of course, and continued smiling as Robin sucked down half the clear, bubbling, liquid contents of the glass.

Her thirst quenched, Robin sat up straight, locked eyes with her hostess (the Witch/Mistress), and licked her lips.

"Well," Miriam said after a few seconds, "I'm glad that's over."

Huh?  Over?  Robin was still bound, shackled, and with a ball-gag necklace dangling around her neck and ready for redeployment.

"You survived 'advanced languishing' with flying colors," Miriam purred, "and we can cross it off our list."

I wouldn't say 'flying colors,' exactly, Robin sighed, then blinked, again.  Wait, list?  What list?  She leaned to the side and took another sip of Sprite, then voiced her question.  "What list?"

"Our list of cruel things a dastardly villain might do to a captive damsel, of course," Miriam chuckled.

"When did we make a list?" Robin demanded.

Miriam grinned.  "I made it for you, Cupcake, taking advantage of my superior experience."

Robin favored the list-maker with an even stare.  "Much appreciated," she said dryly.

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, darling," Miriam chuckled, then rose from her chair, leaned down, and kissed Robin on top of her pouting head.  "You wouldn't want to make your kidnapper angry, would you?"

Robin smirked and rolled her eyes.  "No," she sighed, "wouldn't wanna do that."

Miriam chuckled, strolled to her kitchen pantry, and opened the door.  "I'm making chicken corn chowder for dinner," she announced, "with mixed salad and fresh baked bread."

"Sounds yummy," Robin purred, "seeing as how I missed lunch."  She had no idea why she wasn't demanding her immediate release and the cessation of all experimentation.  Part of it was relief at no longer being subjected to "advanced languishing" in the form of Miriam's punishing hogtie, but only a part.  Truth be told, she liked Miriam, and so far everything the Wicked Witch/Mistress had done to her had been invigorating (in a horrible, despicable, scandalous sort of way).  Also, as a certified "Brave Cupcake," she couldn't quit now.  But no more super-tight-hogties, Robin resolved.  I'll put my foot down... my shackled, chain-hobbled foot.

It turned out that by "making" chicken corn chowder the Wicked Witch/Mistress had meant opening two cans of Campbell's CHUNKY Chicken Corn Chowder and heating the contents on the stove; however, the bread was freshly baked and, except for the olives and cheese, the salad makings were fresh from her garden.  The meal was delicious—and the fact that Robin had, indeed, missed lunch due to being incarcerated in Miriam's dungeon only made it more delicious.

Robin watched as Miriam cleaned up the kitchen, still sitting in the same chair she'd occupied while her hostess/captor prepared the meal, set the table, and fed Robin and herself.  Of course, Robin would have been more than willing to help, but she had the perfect excuse: bondage.

Finally, Miriam dried her hands, turned, and smiled at Robin.

Robin mustered her best Brave but Pathetic Pout.  "Let me guess.  Back to the dungeon?"

Miriam stood beside the chair and combed her fingers through Robin's hair, smiling down at her upturned face.  "Do you want to go back to the dungeon?" she purred.

"Not particularly," Robin muttered.

"Well then..."  Miriam leaned down and kissed Robin's lips.  "Let's go someplace else."  She lifted Robin from the chair, draped an arm over her shoulders, and led her from the kitchen.

Robin "allowed" herself to be led through the house to the guest bathroom.  She also allowed her hostess to brush her teeth for her, scrub her pouting face, then plant her on the commode so she could take a tinkle.  Afterwards, she also allowed Miriam to clean up her nether region with a warm, damp washcloth.  She'd experienced a tiny little pussy-thrill back in the kitchen when Miriam kissed her lips, and the washcloth her beautiful, smiling, mature kidnapper was sliding between her legs had caused the thrill to return.

Robin recognized what was happening as the standard bedtime routine, so when it was finally over she expected to be led down the hallway and up the stairs to the tower guestroom, perhaps to be collared and chained and incarcerated for the night.  Instead, Miriam led her to what had to be the master bedroom—Gulp!—which, in this case, was the Wicked Witch/Mistress bedroom!

The space was larger that the tower guestroom, the bed was king-size, and through an open door Robin could see a bathroom.  No surprise there.  Every master bedroom suite has a master bath.  She still didn't know what she was doing here, of course.  Miriam led her to the bed and encouraged her to recline.  "Hey!"  That is, Miriam gave her a shove just forceful enough for Robin to lose her balance and flop down onto the neatly made bed.  She rolled onto her side and glared at her hostess.  "All you had to do was ask," she huffed, then watched with interest as Miriam knelt at the head of the bed.  There was a rattling noise—what by this time was a familiar rattling noise—and Miriam lifted a steel-cable-collar with an attached chain into view.

Robin watched (pouting and biting her lower lip) as Miriam pulled the key on the chain from under her dress and unlocked the collar's modified padlock.  "How many of those things did your husband buy for you," she muttered.

"Actually," Miriam purred as she fit the collar around Robin's neck and clicked the padlock back into its housing, "I think he bought them for himself."

"But you were the one wearing them, right?"

Miriam smiled, leaned close, and kissed Robin's lips.  "There are three," she said quietly, her eyes locked with Robin, "and now you've worn each and every one of them."  She lifted the chain and gave it a shake.  It rattled and clinked in response.  "This is long enough for you to reach the bathroom, if you feel the need during the night."  She dropped the chain and walked towards a closed door.  "But for now, Cupcake, stay on the bed."

Robin watched as Miriam opened the door and stepped into what was apparently a walk-in closet.  Did she just say 'during the night?'  Where's she gonna sleep?  That was a silly question, of course.  Robin knew the answer.  She's gonna sleep here.  (The thrill rippled between Robin's shackled legs, again.)  It is a big bed, the captive conceded.  Miriam was just inside the closet door, so Robin was catching occasional glimpses of her arms, legs, and rump as she removed her sandals... and then her dress.  Robin couldn't see much, just enough to follow what was happening.  Miriam was disrobing for bed.  Gulp!  There was a brief pause...  then Miriam left the closet, padded into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

Robin swallowed with an audible "Gulp!" and her eyes popped wide.  Miriam had been COMPLETELY NAKED!!  Except for a STEEL CHASTITY BELT!!

Holy crap!  Robin blinked in amazement.  Miriam had only been visible for a few seconds, but it was easily enough time for the prisoner-of-the-bed to confirm that the Wicked Witch/Mistress of Cedar Wind Farm was fit, curvaceous, hot, and with minimal sag, despite her mature, senior-discount-qualifying status!  And as for the chastity belt... it was a chastity belt!  Other than the glint of polished steel, that was the only detail Robin was able to confirm.

Chastity belt?  Chastity belt?  Why is Miriam wearing a chastity belt?

Robin heard the sound of water running.  Apparently, Miriam was taking a shower... before bed... before joining Robin in bed... wearing a chastity belt!

Holy.  Crap.

Miriam took her time in the shower.  She'd reached the crucial stage of The Robin Experiment.   And by experiment, Miriam meant her experiment, not Robin's what's-it-like-to-be-a-prisoner experiment.  Based on long conversations with her daughter and the Swan (Leda), it was abundantly obvious (to Jordan and her mother) that while Leda carried a blazing torch for her BFF, and while she was a brave and impetuous young lady, Leda would never take the first step.  She was chicken.  A brave, impetuous chicken.  And now that she'd met Robin in person, Miriam knew that they were two of a kind.  They loved each other, but neither would take the first step.

That was unacceptable, and it was Miriam's duty to fix it.  And by "fix it" she meant get the BFFs' feelings for each out in the open—under just the right circumstances—and let nature take its course.  Maybe Leda and Robin would become a couple, maybe not, but one thing was for certain: a pair of delightful and delicious young hotties like Swan and Cupcake was a terrible thing to waste.

The task at hand (so to speak) was making sure the hotties in question were in the proper mood when they were brought back together.  Both roommates had to be, to put it delicately, horny as hell when things came to a head (so to speak), and with no easy outlet for their mutual "problem" other than each other.  It would take careful handling.  At the moment, Miriam couldn't do much about Leda.  The Swan was in Jordan's loving hands.  Robin, however, was another matter.

Miriam smiled as she used a soapy washcloth to scrub herself clean.  Careful handling, she mused.

Miriam scrubbed her breasts... abdomen... buttocks... her steel-encased pussy... the rest of her... then gave herself a slow, through rinse.  A dab of shampoo and a thorough scrubbing cleaned her hair.  She rinsed again... then turned off the shower.

Next came towel-drying her body, blow-drying her hair, brushing her teeth, emptying her bladder (and cleaning up afterwards), then placing a tiny dab of perfume behind each ear and between her breasts.  She gave her hair a final comb and brush... then smiled in the mirror.

It was showtime.

Based on various auditory clues that had made their way from the master bathroom and through the closed door, Robin was able to follow the progress of Miriam's evening toilette.  Her heart was pounding, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide, mouth dry, and her breath was coming in pants.  Also, her nipples were standing at attention and the thrill between her legs was now a low grade purr.  Robin was frightened, but not really.  She was also aroused, but not really.  She didn't know exactly what the hell she was, other than not relaxed.  Robin was anything but relaxed.

Finally, all was quiet on the other side of the bathroom door.  Several very long seconds passed...  What's she doing now?  Then, finally, the door opened and Miriam reappeared.  And she was still naked!  And she was still wearing the chastity belt!  And Robin was still naked, tape-bound, shackled, collared, and helpless!

Smiling—Does she ever not smile? Robin wondered—Miriam padded to the bed, paused to execute a full-body, back-arching stretch, then reclined next to her captive guest.  "Urgf!" Robin croaked, then swallowed and tried again.  "W-what's with the belt?" she inquired.

Lying on her side, Miriam gracefully stroked the front panel of the belt in question.  "This ol' thing?" she chuckled, then leaned forward and whispered in Robin's ear.  "Just something I threw on.  Delayed gratification."

Robin blinked (and blushed).  "Huh?"

"Our experiment is all about you, Cupcake," Miriam purred.  "I think you agree that with my pussy locked away like this, I can't be... selfish."

Robin was still blinking, and her blush had intensified.  "I... I don't understand."

"You will, Cupcake," Miriam chuckled, "once I figure it out myself."

"What?" Robin demanded.

"Never mind."  Miriam snuggled close to her captive and rolled Robin onto her side until they were in a front-to-back embrace.  That is, Miriam's boobs and thighs were pressed against Robin's bound arms and legs, and "Cupcake's" butt was pressed against Miriam's steel-clad crotch.

"Miriam!" Robin whined.  She was squirming and wiggling, but not really trying to escape from Miriam's hug.

"What do you think Leda is doing right now?" Miriam whispered in Robin's ear.

"L-Leda?"

"When Leda and my daughter go on one of their backpacking trips," Miriam continued, "the Swan always returns with angry red marks on her wrists.  That can only mean one thing: they continue the games they play when Leda helps Jordan test her various metalworking projects—or, when Leda visits the farm, what they do in the barn when they think I'm not paying attention."

"You know about the stuff at work?" Robin whispered back.  They play kinky games here, too? she wondered.  I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise.  Also... 'Swan.'  Why didn't I think of that?

"Yes, Cupcake," Miriam chuckled.  "I know about the stuff at work."  Her left arm was now reaching around Robin's squirming body and her left hand was cupping Robin's left breast.  Meanwhile, her right hand was sliding up and down across Robin's flat tummy.  "Don't be jealous.  They're only playing.  It's you the Swan loves."

"Jealous?" Robin demanded (whined).  Why should I be...  You mean Leda?"

"I don't mean my daughter," Miriam chuckled, then kissed Robin's right ear.  "Leda loves you, Cupcake."

"I..."  Robin shivered in her bonds and Miriam's embrace.  "L-love?"  Miriam's hand had moved south, and now was including Robin's neatly trimmed pubic bush in its light, teasing caress.

"When you reach my advanced age," Miriam purred, "you'll be better able to sense such things.  But you already know Leda loves you, don't you Cupcake?  And you love her."

"I...  Oh!"  Miriam's finger was nudging her clitoris!  "Miriam!"  Robin shivered in... distress?

"Let's play a game," Miriam announced, then released her embrace, popped the ball-gag into Robin's totally unprepared mouth, parted her hair, and tightened and secured the buckle.

"Mrrr'mm!"  Miriam!

The embrace resumed, as did Miriam's massage, only now the hand not kneading Robin's breast was concentrating on her pussy and thighs!

"Mrrrrr!"  It was a whining whimper of pathetic despair... or maybe encouragement.

"Here's the game," Miriam whispered.  "You think about what Leda and my Pumpkin are doing right now..."  The massage continued.  "And when they get back tomorrow, the two of you can compare notes."  Her left hand squeezed Robin's left breast.  "And just to make things interesting, I'll do my best to distract you.  You think, and I'll distract.  Doesn't that sound like fun, Cupcake?"

Robin shivered and squirmed.  Her heart was still pounding and now her eyes were squeezed tightly closed.  "Mrrrrr!" she moaned through her gag.

"Is that a yes?" Miriam inquired.

Robin continued squirming, wiggling, and shivering.  "Mrrrrr!" she moaned, once again.

"That was definitely a yes," Miriam chuckled, and began frigging Robin's pussy in earnest.

"MRRRRR!"

"Yes, Cupcake," Miriam purred.  "I know."

Robin couldn't sleep.  Something like an hour had passed since the final time Miriam had manually persuaded her to cum like the proverbial bunny—the proverbial naked, bound, gagged, and sweaty bunny.  Yes, it was something like an hour since the last of three separate bouts of finger-diddling had caused Robin to writhe in orgasm.  After the third diddle, Miriam had given her a goodnight kiss, released her embrace, rolled onto her side, and (apparently) drifted off to sleep.  The kiss, Robin thought, staring into the darkness.  There had been a lot of kisses, all one sided, as Robin was gagged.  There was also neck-licking, nipple-teasing, and nipple-nibbling.  Miriam's lips and tongue had been busy, as had her hands, with boob-and-butt-squeezing, tummy-stroking, and thigh-caressing, but mainly with pussy-diddling.

As for carrying out her part of the game, thinking about what Leda and Jordan might be doing out in the howling wilderness, Robin had failed in spectacular fashion.  The only things her fevered brain could process were not hypothetical.  All Robin could think about were the things Miriam the mature, experienced, naked, chastity-belt-wearing Wicked Witch/Mistress was doing to her.

But now... Robin was making up for lost time.  However, rather than contemplating Leda, Jordan, and the implied kinky boinking activities that might be happening in the forest at this very moment, all Robin could think about was... Leda loves me?  Miriam had said it, and Miriam was a mature, experienced, naked, chastity-belted Wicked Witch/Mistress... so it must be true.  Leda loves me... and I love Leda.

At some point in their long history as BFFs, Robin's amused affection for her bubbly, mischievous, sexy friend had become love... of some category.  The problem was, what if the feeling wasn't mutual?  What if Leda only liked her in return?  A profession of love on Robin's part might chase her away.  At the very least, it would be embarrassing in the extreme.  It would be world class mortification.  There was no way Robin was gonna let that happen, so unrequited love was the order of the day... every day.

But Miriam says Leda loves me!  Could it be true?

Robin sighed through her ball-gag (quietly, so as not to disturb Miriam), then, slowly, carefully stretched as best she could.  The hobble-chain joining her shackles tinkled, quietly, as did the chain attached to her steel cable-collar and thereby attaching Robin to the wall.  Miriam appeared to be undisturbed... which was good.

Robin had no idea what time it was, but was sure it was well after midnight.  This was day three of her experiment as Miriam's captive.  No, yesterday was day three, she thought.  This is day four... the day Leda returns.  And what will happen then?

Inevitably, Robin drifted off to sleep... and experienced a vivid dream in which she was a captive Princess, Miriam was a Wicked Witch who lived in an isolated, grim castle infested with flying monkeys, Jordan was Miriam's Apprentice Witch and Fighter/Assassin, and Leda was a half-elf Warrior/Thief who came to rescue Princess Robin and was captured for her troubles.  And the Wicked Witch made her (the Princess) watch as Jordan erotically tortured Leda, over and over and over.  Poor Leda had suffered orgasm after involuntary orgasm, and Robin was helpless to help her!

It was a disturbing (and wet) dream, and Robin remembered none of it in the morning.

Robin opened her eyes.  Dawn had arrived, the light from the curtained windows was just enough to illuminate the bedroom, and the bed was shaking.  Miriam was also awake.

The Wicked Witch/Mistress yawned, stretched, gracefully climbed to her feet, and stretched again—and this time it was a full-body, reach-for-the-ceiling-and-arch-the-back stretch.  She then smiled at Robin.

"Good morning, Cupcake," Miriam purred, then padded into the master bath, closing the door behind her.  She was still naked (of course) and the steel chastity belt was still girding her loins, as the saying goes.

Robin heard the water run in the washbasin... followed by the toilet flushing... followed by the washbasin, again.  Robin remained on the bed with her ankles shackled, arms encased in the nylons and duct-tape box-tie, neck locked in a steel cable-collar that also tethered her to the bedroom wall, and with the ball-gag plugging her mouth.

Miriam emerged from the bathroom (still nude and wearing a steel chastity belt, of course) and padded to the walk-in closet.

"Mrrrk?" Robin inquired.  What about me?

Miriam emerged again (eventually) and now the chastity belt was completely hidden under the skirt of another of her seemingly infinite collection of pretty print dresses.  Sandals graced her strong, beautiful feet, and a smile graced her beautiful face; however—Gulp!—a black leather bundle of some sort was tucked under her right arm!

Robin's eyes popped wide.  "Mrrrk?"  More leather?

Without preamble Miriam rolled Robin over onto her stomach.  Robin heard the tinkle of rattling buckles, and then, something—obviously the mysterious leather whatever-it-was—slithered and slid up and over her folded and already encased arms.  "Nrrrm!"  The leather whatever-it-was tightened... then tightened some more as Miriam threaded straps through buckles, pulled out slack, and secured the buckles.  From her position face-down on the bed Robin couldn't watch what was happening, but she could follow Miriam's actions by sound and feel.  Ominously, each time Miriam buckled a buckle, the process ended with a quiet metallic click.

Miriam lifted Robin until she was sitting on the rumpled bed, then deployed and tightened a curious arrangement of straps across Robin's chest and upper arms.  The straps individually encircled and trapped Robin's breasts, then buckled together behind her back.  Click.  The "bra-strap" was integral to the leather whatever-it-was encasing her arms, and when Robin rolled her shoulders and twisted at the waist, she could tell the whole thing was one tight leather system.  Robin heard metallic rattles as she struggled and realized the various clicks she'd heard earlier had been the sound of Miriam locking a tiny padlock through each and every buckle!

Robin focused on her smiling captor.  "Mrrrf?"  The "thing" was... an arm-bag-binder?  Robin had no idea what the manufacturer actually called their product, but could tell she was now doubly helpless.  Even if her arms hadn't already been mummified in nylons and tape, the leather binder would have rendered her helpless.  Also, her boobs were now bulging (a little) through the openings in the gleaming black leather bra-strap arrangement.  Talk about overkill, Robin mused.

"Very pretty," Miriam sighed, then unlocked Robin's steel cable-collar and helped her stand.  "Off we go, Cupcake," the Wicked Witch/Mistress purred, draping an arm over Robin's shoulder and leading her from the bedroom.

"Mrrr?"  Robin was still reeling from the addition of the leather bag-binder, but had it together enough to realize she was not being led to the master bathroom or the guest bathroom.  They were already down the hall and were headed for the kitchen.  "Mrrr?"

Miriam ignored Robin's ball-gagged question as they entered and crossed the kitchen and the Wicked Witch/Mistress opened the door to the basement.

Robin stomped a fettered foot and tried to squirm out from under Miriam's arm.  "Nrrrrr!"  She failed to escape.

"Don't be difficult, Cupcake," Miriam chuckled, then dragged (led) Robin down the basement stairs.  They walked slowly, with Miriam making sure her prisoner didn't trip.  She then led the reluctant and still weakly struggling Robin across the basement to the steel door.

It was clear that given half a chance Robin was going to make a run for it (meaning make a barefoot, shackled shuffle for it), but Miriam removed that option by gently pushing Robin face-and-boobs-first against the cold steel door and pinning her with her own body while she unlocked the door, lifted the hasp, and drew the bolt.  Thunk!  She then stepped back, taking Robin with her, opened the door—Eeeeee!—and led Robin into the alcove.  Miriam repeated the body-pinning maneuver against the bars while she unlocked and opened the gate—Eeeeee!—led Robin into the cell, and plunked her down on the sleeping pad.

Robin squirmed and complained—"Mrrrrr!"—as Miriam fit the dungeon's steel cable-collar around her neck and secured its modified padlock.  Click.  Robin's brown eyes welled with tears.  The naked, helpless prisoner was the very picture of Pathetic Resignation, and it was not an act.

"Poor thing," Miriam sighed.  She was still smiling.  "Your love interest will be home soon, Cupcake," she added as she combed errant strands of Robin's tousled brown hair from her face.  "Only a few more hours."  She leaned close, planted a kiss on her prisoner's forehead, then reached behind Robin's ball-gagged head, parted her hair, and fumbled with the gag's buckle.

Robin waited for Miriam to finish buckling the strap on its first hole, as usual.  She'd force the rubber sphere from her mouth and would finally be able to beg for mercy.  The strap loosened and she immediately began trying to expell the ball.

Meanwhile, Miriam stood, stepped into the alcove, closed the barred gate—Eeeeee!—turned the lock, stepped back into the basement, and closed the steel door—Eeeeee!  Thunk!  That was the sound of door's bolt being thrown, of course.

Robin blinked in dismay.  "Mrrr?"  No parting words?  She continued trying to force the ball from her mouth, but it was proving to be more difficult than before.  Eventually she succeeded, working her jaw and managing to free her chin from the ball and strap.  The ball-gag dropped and became a gag-necklace, but it was a little tighter than before.  The ball nudged the bottom of her cable-collar.  It would appear the Wicked Witch/Mistress had re-secured the gag-strap on its second hole.

Robin blinked the tears from her eyes and focused on the closed and locked gate and door.  "MIRIAM!" she shouted.  "PLEASE!  COME BACK!"  Her voice echoed through the dungeon, and it was Robin's guess that if Miriam was standing directly in front of the steel door, she might have heard her desperate pleas.  Seconds passed with no response.  "Please come back," Robin sighed, this time in a sad whisper.  Still no response.

Eventually, Robin would drag herself to the steel commode and use the bidet/drinking fountain to slake her thirst and take her morning tinkle.  Afterwards, she'd settle back onto the pad to wait for breakfast.  But for now... Robin stared into space and tried to ignore her trembling chin and the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Leda, she thought, come save me!