by Van ©2022
		Chapter 4

Hours passed.

Eliza had no idea how many.

Nothing happened in the subterranean... chamber.

Eliza decided not even to think the word "tomb" while contemplating her concrete prison... just like her steel cage was not a well ventilated "sarcophagus."  "Mausoleum," "crypt," and "sepulchre" were also off limits.  ...  "Vault" was marginal.

The only disturbances to the "peace" were the quiet, barely discernible metallic scraping that happened when the bungee-cord clips slid against the D-rings, the faint creaking of the leather of the jacket, leg-sheath, and/or their straps, and what little noise she could force through her gag.  "Mrrr."  And that was it... acoustically.  And any and all of that happened only when she struggled or verified the effectiveness of her harness-gag, bolero-bare-boobs-straitjacket, leg-sheath, and the bungee-clips... but what was the point?  She wasn't going anywhere.

Fortunately (or otherwise), she wasn't visually deprived.  Through the bars of the cage Eliza could see the weakly glowing element of the light directly overhead.  She suspected the glowing element was an LED, but the distance was too great for her to be sure.  Only the best for Coco Vespini and her Art Installations, she silently fumed.  And what was the point of the hefty steel grill protecting the fixture?  She supposed it was good to know that if she suddenly turned green and transformed into The Sensational She-Hulk—then burst her way out of the jacket, leg-sheath, and the cage—the LED would be safe from flying shrapnel.  I'd hate to have to smash my way out of this tomb in the dark.

There, she'd thought it...  'Tomb.'  Eliza found she could also make a little noise by sighing, but it wasn't very satisfying.

Hours passed.

And then...

Click!  Creeeee.  Squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak...

That was the chamber door being unlocked and opened, of course, followed by the sound of rubber tires.  Eliza's eyes were totally adapted to the ambient light, so other than the slight obstruction offered by the cage bars, she had no difficulty watching Coco push the dreaded heavy-duty wheelchair towards her cage.  It was a short trip.

Eliza's hostess/captor was no longer naked or in need of a bath, but was wearing one of her at-home uniforms: bare feet, black designer jeans, and a black tank-top (with pokies).  Her gleaming brown hair was loose about her shoulders, framing her beautiful face, with its usual sparkling brown eyes and gorgeous (infuriating) dimpled smile.

"Good news, darling," Coco purred.  "Sis says Tippi was a very well-behaved little schoolgirl while they were in town.  She made no attempts to contact the authorities, nor did she make a break for it.  So... I've decided to rescue you.  Isn't that nice of me?"

Eliza continued watching (also glowering and/or scowling) as Coco unlocked the cage's padlock, lifted the hasp, then the cage's lid, lowered the front panel, and released the bungee-cord clips.  All of that was accompanied by various metallic sound effects, of course, but as Eliza's brain was no longer starved for sensory input she was able to ignore the rattle and clatter and concentrate on staring daggers at her smiling "rescuer."

Soon, Eliza was back in the wheelchair, the royal-blue "safety" straps were making sure she stayed there, and Coco was wheeling her out of her tomb and back down the corridor.  They retraced their steps to the Secret Door/Wall, which on the Secret Dungeon/Mausoleum side of the mansion was a wall-to-wall and ceiling-to-floor steel bulkhead next to an alcove full of the machinery required to pull it open and/or push it closed.  Coco inserted her magic barrel-key in a key-plate, gave it a turn, and the motor sprang to life.  The hum was louder than Eliza remembered from earlier, but she supposed that made sense as she was on the motor side of the barrier (and had been recently semi-sensory-deprived).

Anyway, the secret door/wall/deep-sink slowly opened... and the journey continued.  Their ultimate destination was... Coco's luxurious and exquisitely decorated bedroom.  Along the way Eliza saw no sign of Tippi, Pepper, or anyone else.  Also, it was either very late in the afternoon or very early in the evening.  As they passed various windows Eliza could see a little orange/yellow/blue light, but not much.  It was right around sunset.

They entered the bedroom and Coco wheeled Eliza into the attached bath.  Like the bedroom itself, it was luxurious, exquisitely decorated, and the height of good taste.  There was a generous, tiled shower alcove, a large soaking tub, and the usual commode and washbasin.  Smiling her disgustingly beautiful and irritatingly dimpled smile, Coco released the royal-blue straps securing Eliza in the wheelchair, then unbuckled and removed her young guest's harness gag.  This took a while, as several buckles were involved, but finally Coco was able to ease the black silicon-rubber plug from Eliza's mouth... and the deed was done.

Eliza licked her lips and worked her jaw, then shook her head, hoping (in vain) that her dirty, tousled hair would settle into place.  She could see her reflection in the large mirror behind the sink and was disappointed by the frumpy, tousled result.  It looked like she was wearing a blond fright wig and this did not improve her mood.

Meanwhile, Coco had knelt on the exquisite ceramic tiles and was unbuckling the leg-sheath, including its attached foot and big-toe mini-straps.  She then unzipped the long vertical zipper, opening the sheath, and helped Eliza to her feet.

The floor was cold and Eliza's newly exposed legs were shining with sweat.  Also, her leg muscles were a little shaky.  Otherwise, she might have considered planting a swift kick between her hostess' legs and/or under her chin.  Instead, she continued glowering.

"You're probably thirsty," Coco purred as she filled a glass and held it to Eliza's pouting lips.

Eliza was thirsty, so she decided to drink, instead of spitting the cool, clear, delicious water in Coco's gloating face.  And the issue of the jacket remained.  She had to get out of the bolero-straitjacket before she could reap her Righteous Vengeance and pummel Coco into the oblivion she so richly deserved.

The drink was followed by a visit to the commode, and the only privacy Eliza enjoyed was Coco being busy placing the leg-sheath and harness-gag on the wheelchair's ocean-blue padded seat and wheeling the chair from the bathroom.

By the time Coco returned, Eliza was finished taking her tinkle and was free to concentrate on perfecting her glower.  Still smiling, Coco flushed the commode and triggered the bidet function!

"Eeek!"  The water splashing Eliza's nether region took her totally by surprise, but she recovered quickly and resumed scowling, and she continued scowling as Coco dragged (led) her to the shower alcove and plunked her down on a marble seat.

"Get me out of this bloody jacket," Eliza demanded.

Coco shook her head.  "Such language.  Not yet, darling," she purred, wet a washcloth, and began giving her scowling young guest a sponge-bath, using the wet cloth to thoroughly scrub of all Eliza's exposed skin from toes to crotch—butt, tummy, and lower back—angry face—and delightfully bulging breasts.  And Eliza knew her boobs were "delightful" because Coco said so.  "Delightful."  Coco then took Eliza's place on the marble seat, lowered Eliza onto her lap—"Hey!"—and used a hand-held shower attachment on a flexible steel hose to thoroughly rinse Eliza's hair.  She was careful.  Very little water splashed onto the jacket or found its way under the collar, and the few drops that did find their way onto the shining black leather she dealt with using a fluffy towel, then used it to dry Eliza's exposed skin and hair.

Led by her hostess/captor/handler, Eliza emerged from the bath with her hair in a towel-turban, the parts of her body not encased in the bolero-straitjacket clean and refreshed, and her body that was encased in shining leather still sweaty from this morning's sauna-session and the hours of being entombed in the ever-so-slightly overheated chamber down below.

Enough was enough.  Eliza shrugged off Coco's guiding hand and squirmed in her bare-boobs-bolero-bondage.  "Get me out of this bloody jacket!" she demanded.

"Language, young lady," Coco chuckled, "unless you want another gag."  She led (dragged) Eliza to the huge bed and gave her an abrupt shove!

"Dammit!" Eliza cursed as she bounced on the soft (but not too soft) mattress.  The towel-turban came loose, she shook it free, and watched as Coco opened the lower drawer of a large cabinet, gathered a handful of leather and steel rattling things, and returned to the bed.

The things in question were a pair of black leather padded cuffs joined by about a foot of rubber bungee-cord.  Eliza watched (glowered) as Coco buckled them around her ankles.  She considered kicking and flailing around, but knew it would be pointless, a fight she couldn't win.  There was also a ball-gag, a black silicon-rubber ball with a black-leather strap, but Coco fastened it by its first hole around Eliza's neck.  "There," Coco purred.  "Ready if needed."  She then picked up the towel and strolled back into the bath, presumably to put it in a luxurious and decadently expensive dirty-towel-hamper.

Eliza took the time to make a more detailed appraisal of the main bedroom.  There was a window-wall with French doors and a magnificent view of a garden, a stretch of lawn, and the last of the sunset glow above the darkening lake.  Several very nice paintings hung on the walls, the furniture looked very comfortable, and everything was appropriate to the mansion's overall decorating scheme (not counting the institutional and/or subterranean patient accommodations).  Nice place, she mentally conceded.

Coco returned from the bathroom with a brush and comb set, climbed onto the bed, and positioned herself with Eliza in front of her and facing away.  She then proceeded to gently comb and brush her prisoner's short blond hair.

Eliza continued scowling as she endured Coco's pampering.  What choice did she have?

"You need a trim, darling," Coco purred as she worked.

"My hair is just fine!" Eliza huffed.

"Yes, the texture is fine," Coco agreed, "and silky... but it's uneven."  The brush continued gliding through Eliza's blond locks.  "Even if you intend to grow it out, you need a trim.  However, I believe shorter would be better.  You'd look amazing in a true pixie-cut, Tomboy."

"I like my hair the way it is," Eliza muttered.

"We'll see," Coco responded, then climbed off the bed, returned the brush and comb to the bathroom, and headed for the bedroom door.  "I'll get you something to eat," she said, then was gone—Click!—locking the door behind her.

Eliza stared at the door for a few seconds, then heaved a sigh and flopped back onto the bed.  Something to eat sounded like a very good idea.  She'd missed lunch.  And as for her hair...  What did she mean by 'we'll see?'  That was... ominous.

Pepper had put the handcuffs back on Tippi's wrists as soon as they finished shopping and loading everything in the back of the car.  So... Tippi's wrists were cuffed behind her back for the entire ride home... meaning back to the Sinister Vespini Sister's Sinister Mansion.  The cuffs came off once Pepper parked the car, of course.  She wasn't going to unload all those groceries by herself.  Tippi helped... and once all the hauling and putting away was over... Pepper cuffed Tippi's wrists behind her back again!

Tippi supposed she ought to complain, and her main concern was getting Eliza released from wherever she'd been sequestered by Coco.  Tippi decided a subtle approach was in order.

"Thanks for lunch," Tippi said to Pepper as she was led through the mansion.  "That's a nice little town."

"You're welcome, dear," Pepper grinned, "and I quite agree.  There's a steakhouse up in the hills that looks down on the lake.  I'll take you there sometime."

"Thanks."  Tippi began to suspect their destination was Pepper's bedroom.  "Uh, we're on our way to release Eliza from, uh, wherever it is she needs releasing from, right?"

"Today, Eliza is my sister's concern," Pepper purred.  She focused her smile on Tippi.  "You're mine."

Tippi tugged on her cuffs and swallowed nervously.  "But... we're back... and I was good."

They arrived at Pepper's bedroom.  "Don't worry about your girlfriend, darling," Pepper chuckled.  "She'll be fine."

Tippi almost reacted to the "girlfriend" remark, but caught herself in time.  That was twice Pepper had tried to bait her with the ridiculous allegation that Eliza and her were some sort of couple, and Tippi realized she was going to have to remain on her guard, lest she rise to the bait if or when there was a third time.

"I want to see her," Tippi demanded (whined).  She also pouted.

"Eliza?" Pepper inquired.

"Yes, Eliza," Tippi huffed, tugging on her cuffs, again.

"Sorry, darling," Pepper sighed (with an irritating grin), "but she's busy with Coco, and it's my job to keep you busy."

Tippi heaved a wounded sigh.  (It was heartbreaking.)  "Well, I've had enough for one day."

"Don't be silly, darling," Pepper purred.  "It's only mid afternoon."  She led Tippi into the walk-in closet.

"I don't care," Tippi pouted.  "I don't want to play."

Pepper's dimpled smile took a sinister twist.  "This is the perfect opportunity to expand your horizons, Tippi.  Anyway, in circumstances like this, it only matters what I want.  Consider this an important part of your training."

Tippi watched with growing alarm as Pepper opened a cabinet drawer... then proceeded to use a pair of bandage scissors to snip a seven-inch strip from a roll of the dreaded Elastoplast medical tape, the tape Pepper claimed was the widely recognized best product for tape-gags.

"I'm serious," Tippi complained as Pepper approached with the tape stretched between her hands.  She backed away—"Oops!—right into the shoe rack, in the process dislodging about a dozen random pumps of various styles, mostly black, which rattled to the carpeted floor.  "No!—Mrrrf!"

"There," Pepper cooed as she smoothed the tape.  "I just love the way this stuff hugs the skin and your lips stand out in bas-relief."

"Mrrr!"  Hands on Tippi's shoulders, Pepper had led her to the closet's triptych of full-length mirrors so she could examine her gagged-self.  It was true.  The shape of her lips and mouth were clearly visible on the surface of the off-white strip adhered to most of her lower face.  It was... remarkable.

Pepper's hands still rested on Tippi's shoulders as she smiled at Tippi's tape-gagged and wide-eyed reflection in the mirrors.  "Now, I could fetch a riding crop, or better yet a shock-wand, to compel your obedience, but neither I nor my sister particularly enjoy inflicting pain.  Alternatively, I could slip a noose over your head and leave you up on your toes while I strip off your clothing and change your bondage.  And if you continued to resist, I could simply wait until your feet grow tired and you decide cooperation is better than strangulation—but let's simply pretend you're a terrified damsel and will do what you're told, shall we?"

Her brown eyes still wide above her Elastoplast-gag, Tippi nodded.  Her pageboy bobbed in a most charming manner.

"Good schoolgirl," Pepper chuckled.  "Now, I'm going to remove your cuffs.  Then, you're going to continue being a good girl, not touch your pretty tape-gag, and strip to the skin.  Okay?"

Tippi didn't especially want to strip, but didn't see how she had any real choice in the matter.  Even if she decided to fight (and she was a lousy fighter, unlike Eliza, who was a real scrapper), as far as she knew, Eliza was still a helpless and hidden hostage to her good behavior.  Tippi heaved another gagged sigh... and nodded again.

Pepper removed the black hinged-handcuffs from Tippi's wrists, then smiled and watched as Tippi followed her orders and removed her loafers, knee-socks, skirt, blouse, bandeau-bra, and panties.

Nude, tape-gagged, and highly embarrassed, Tippi followed Pepper's further directions by placing the socks, underwear, and blouse in a laundry hamper, and the skirt in the designated dry-cleaning hamper.  She then replaced the dislodged shoes cluttering the floor back on the rack, being careful to match them to their partners.  Then, her right arm folded across her breasts and her left hand demurely shielding her private parts, she watched as Pepper opened yet another drawer and pulled out... something in black leather with shiny steel hardware!

"Mrrrk?"

"Relax, darling," Pepper chuckled.  "It's all part of your continuing training, like I said."  She then turned Tippi to face the mirrors and set to work.

When the proverbial dust settled, Tippi found herself zipped and buckled into the black-leather-with-shiny-steel-hardware thingie in question.  Pepper explained it was called a "single-sleeve armbinder," which Tippi considered a logical and descriptive designation.  Her arms were behind her back, encased in a conical, skintight leather sheath, from her fingertips to just above her elbows, which actually touched!  Thank goodness for yoga! she mused.  Leather straps yoked her shoulders, crisscrossing above her breasts, and buckled to the top of the sleeve.  Secondary (and, in Tippi's opinion, unnecessary) leather straps buckled tightly around her wrists and elbows.  Needless to say, her fingers, hands, and arms were totally useless for purposes of escape... or anything else for that matter.  Also, the binder pulled her shoulders back and caused her boobs to point!  It was...  Tippi decided to go with "mortifying."  It was either that or "wicked and decadent."

"A perfect fit," Pepper cooed as she secured the final buckle.  She then led her naked prisoner from the closet, into the bathroom, and waited patiently while Tippi used the commode to take a humiliating tinkle.  Pepper then used a damp washcloth to scrub Tippi's crotch clean... which wasn't at all embarrassing (and sensual).  She then led Tippi back into the bedroom and to the bed.

"Mrrrk!"  Thanks to a rather rude shove from her hostess/captor, Tippi found herself bouncing on the mattress.  And then, before she could fully recover—Click-k-k-k!  Click-k-k-k!—she found Pepper had tightened the black hinged-handcuffs around her ankles!

"Now, Tippi darling, why don't you take a nice nap?" Pepper suggested (ordered), then turned and strolled towards the bedroom door.  "I'll be back," she advised (warned) as she made her exit—Click!—and locked the door from the far side.

Tippi was naked, tape-gagged, ankle-cuffed, armbinder-bound, and alone!  A nap?  Why not?  It was either that or lie on the soft (but not too soft) mattress and worry about Eliza.  Or, she could hop around the bedroom until her ankles were rubbed raw for no conceivable purpose.  A nap was better.  Tippi heaved a tape-gagged sigh, closed her eyes, and tried her best to relax.

The Vespini sisters shared a pleasant dinner in the form of various mini-sandwiches out on the deck overlooking the lake.  Of course, they only consumed half the food Coco had prepared.  The other half was waiting in the kitchen on a pair of plates and covered with plastic wrap.  They would be Eliza and Tippi's supper, to be delivered shortly.

"I think my Tippi is ready," Pepper stated, then popped the remainder of a roast beef mini-sandwich (with horseradish sauce on sourdough) into her mouth.

"You said that yesterday," Coco purred as she finished off her mini pastrami-on-rye (with yellow mustard).

"And you told me to wait," Pepper responded.  "I think she's ready."

"Well... go carefully," Coco advised as she reached for a mini chicken-salad-on-multi-grain.

"I intend to," Pepper chuckled, then took a sip of rosé.  "How 'bout you and your adorably angry Tomboy?"

Coco heaved a sigh.  "She may not ever be ready.  Eliza is too much of a fighter... unfortunately.  But I suspect she'd enjoy playing the damsel-in-distress if she allowed herself."

Pepper frowned.  "Don't get me wrong.  Tippi is no weakling."

"I agree," Coco grinned, then chewed and swallowed a bite of mini-sandwich before answering.  "I still think caution is advised, with both of our assistants.."

Pepper grinned.  "It might be quite some time before you convince Eliza to give herself permission to play."

"Exactly," Coco nodded.  "And I remain convinced Tippi has... hidden depths."

"Hidden depths," Pepper chuckled, then selected a mini crab-and-artichoke-salad on sour dough.  "So... we shall continue... carefully."

"Carefully," Coco agreed.

Out on the lake, a dozen or more bats wheeled and swooped in the rapidly darkening sky, doing their best to rid the planet of mosquitoes.

Click!  The bedroom door opened and Eliza lifted her head to watch (glower) as Coco entered the bedroom carrying a small serving tray.  On the tray was a plate of tiny sandwiches, a carafe of what appeared to be rosé, a stemmed goblet, and a folded linen napkin.  She assumed it was the "something to eat" she'd been promised earlier.

"It's about bloody time," Eliza huffed as she squirmed and sat up on the soft mattress.

"Again with the intemperate language," Eliza chuckled as she shook her head and set the tray on the bed.  She then arranged the pillows against the headboard, climbed onto the bed, reclined against the pile of pillows, and pulled the pouting blonde against her.

"Hey!  Keep your bloody hands to yourself!" Eliza complained as Coco made the final arrangements.  The plate of sandwiches and accompanying wine were within easy reach, meaning Coco's easy reach, of course.  Zipped and strapped in the bolero-bare-boobs-straitjacket, nothing was within Eliza's reach, easy or otherwise.

"Seriously, young lady," Coco purred as she poured wine into the goblet, "I know you're proud of your rough and tumble Australian roots, there's no excuse for being impolite."

Eliza's stomach grumbled.  She decided to keep her bloody opinion about bloody impolite speech to her bloody self... and she was proud of her Aussie heritage.  Any further use of "intemperate language" could wait until her stomach was full.

Still smiling her patented beautiful/sinister dimpled smile, Coco poured wine into the goblet, took a sip, then held the goblet for Eliza to enjoy the delicious rosé.  A sliced turkey with cranberry relish, mayonnaise, and mixed lettuce on white bread mini-sandwich followed.  Eliza demolished the yummy sandwich in two quick bites, finished chewing and swallowing... then accepted another sip of wine.  So far so yummy.

The mini-sandwiches disappeared from the plate one-by-one, the goblet emptied, was refilled, and the meal continued.  There was no conversation, just Eliza eating (and glowering), and Coco feeding her precious Tomboy (and smiling).  Eventually, the food was gone and two very full glasses of wine had been shared between the prisoner and her jailer.

"Well then," Coco purred, "time for bed."  She led Eliza to the luxurious attached bathroom.  The captive's steps were only slightly impeded by the padded leather ankle-cuffs and bungee-hobble.  Once there, Coco "helped" the glaring Tomboy take a tinkle, subjected her to a brief bidet cleansing afterwards, then loaded a toothbrush and brushed Eliza's teeth for her.  Her final grooming act was to scrub Eliza's scowling face with soap and washcloth.

Eliza allowed all this to happen, of course, as she needed to empty her bladder, her crotch might as well be clean, and her teeth needed brushing—but she continued scowling and did not thank her hostess/handler when her evening toilette was finished.

And then, it was back to the bed for Eliza and she was back on the mattress, her ankles still strapped in the leather-cuffs with bungee-hobble, her upper body still zipped and strapped in the insidious bare-boobs-bolero-straitjacket, and the ominous ball-gag still dangling around her neck in a threatening manner.  She squirmed, tried to relax, and watched Coco pad into the walk-in closet.  Several seconds passed... then Coco reemerged without her black designer jeans and tank-top.  In point of fact, Coco was nude, totally nude, as opposed to mostly nude and nude-under-her-leather-restraints, like Eliza.

Coco then disappeared into the bathroom and Eliza heard the sounds of her hostess' conducting her evening toilette.  Finally, Coco emerged and padded to the bed, smiling and still nude.  She turned off the lights, leaving only the glow of a dim nightlight, then pulled the covers out from under Eliza, rearranged the pillows for sleeping, climbed onto the mattress, snuggled alarmingly close to her hobbled and straitjacketed prisoner, and pulled the summer blanket and top-sheet over both their bodies.

"Now, be a good girl and let me sleep," Coco whispered in Eliza's left ear, "or I'll pop your ball-gag in your mouth, clip your hobble to the ring on the front of your jacket collar, and you'll spend the rest of the night on the floor."

"Just keep your hands to yourself," Eliza huffed.

"Are you sure, darling?" Coco said quietly.  "I have a Hitachi wand in the bottom drawer of the bedside table.  A prolonged, gentle 'massage' might help you sleep.  I know it always helps me sleep."

"No thank you," Eliza muttered, then her eyes popped wide as Coco snuggled even closer—into a full embrace, in fact!—then cupped her left breast!  "Hey!"

"Hush, darling," Coco purred, then kissed Eliza's cheek and rested her head against the pillow.  "Goodnight."

"Uh... yeah... goodnight."  Eliza swallowed nervously and stared into the near-darkness.  She was afraid sleep might prove to be somewhat elusive.

Tippi's evening meal was much the same as Eliza's, only with Pepper doing the hand-feeding and pushing the wine.  In another difference, Pepper had disrobed and put her clothes away before dinner was served!  That's right, poor blushing, mortified, armbinder-bound, and ankle-cuffed Tippi had her Elastoplast tape-gag peeled away by a naked Pepper!  And then she was fed the variety of delectable mini-sandwiches and nice rosé... by a naked Pepper!

The assisted evening toilette after the sandwiches and wine was also strikingly similar to Eliza's experience, except for the fact that, once again, Tippi's Vespini sister handler was, herself, also naked.

And then, Tippi found herself back on the king-size, luxurious bed, but now with her ankles lashed together by Pepper using the black terrycloth sash of her black terrycloth bathrobe.  And Pepper was also on the bed and embracing Tippi's single-sleve-armbinder-bound but otherwise naked body!  And then, another dissimilarity between Eliza and Tippi's treatment emerged: Pepper was much more assertive about helping Tippi relax before going to sleep!

"Hey-hey-hey!" Tippi objected.  "Hands!  Hands!"

"Hush, darling," Pepper purred.

The hands Tippi was taking issue with were Pepper's, of course, and they were gliding over Tippi's exposed skin (which was most of her skin, but not her encased arms, of course).  Also, Pepper's legs were scissored around Tippi's ankle-bound legs, controlling her attempts to kick and squirm.  And then, Pepper slid her left leg between Tippi's legs, thus preventing Tippi from squeezing her thighs together, something Tippi very much wanted to do!  Why?  Because Pepper had started sliding the edge of her right palm against Tippi's labia!

"Hey!—Mrrrrrrf!"  Further attempts to complain were muffled as Pepper's right hand was now clamped over Tippi's mouth in a tight hand-gag.  "Mrrr!"  The sideways embrace, labia-massage, and hand-gag continued.  "Nrrrrr!"  Then, Pepper released Tippi's mouth and gave her right breast a gentle squeeze.

"Nooooo!" Tippi shuddered, squirming and doing her best to wiggle free.  Pepper's fingers were now diddling!  Yes, she was sure!  They were definitely diddling!

"No?" Pepper purred.  "Are you sure?"

"Yesssss!" Tippi whined... but Pepper's fingers and hand continued stimulating some of Tippi's favorite nerve endings.  "Nooooo!"

"Well, yes or no?" Pepper chuckled.  "Which is it?"

"Stop doing that!" Tippi whimpered.

"Doing what?"  Pepper continued frigging Tippi's private parts.

"You know what!  The thing with the hand and the f-f-ingers!"

Pepper still didn't stop.  "This thing here?"  The diddling digits in question fluttered in a most invigorating/indecent manner.

"Ahhhhh!"

"Last chance," Pepper purred.  "It will help you relax.  Are you absolutely sure you want me to stop?"

"Ahhhhh!"  Tippi bucked, twisted, and shook her entire body, fighting her bonds and Pepper's embrace.  "Ahhh-Mrrrmpfh!"  Pepper's hand was back over Tippi's mouth.

"I really do think you'd feel better if you let me continue," Pepper whispered, "but I'll stop if you insist." 

"MrrrRRRrrrRRRRRH!"  And then, Tippi collapsed in Pepper's arms, panting through her hand-gag, her breasts heaving.  She was also sweating, slightly, and her skin was rather flushed.

Pepper released her hand-gag, but not her full body embrace.  "Well, if you change your mind, just let me know... unless I'm asleep."

Tippi was quite obviously basking in the afterglow of an exhausting albeit rather quick orgasm.  Brevity aside, however, the experience had been... remarkable.

Meanwhile, her arms and legs still wrapped around her young guest, Pepper had closed her eyes, wished her panting guest/victim "Good night" in a quiet whisper, and was lying perfectly still.  Apparently, she was serious about the falling sleep bit.

Tippi's heart rate and breathing slowly returned to... normal?  However, she realized she was exhausted, could think of absolutely nothing that really needed to be said... at the moment... and had no trouble drifting off to sleep without further assistance.

Pepper let a few minutes pass... then opened her eyes and slowly, carefully extricated herself from the now quite obviously slumbering Tippi.  She then planted a gentle kiss on Tippi's forehead, snuggled close to her precious prisoner without embracing her wonderful body, heaved a quiet sigh, and closed her eyes, again.  Technically, Pepper knew she'd violated the "no means no" clause of Tippi's contract, but she was willing to justify her actions and face the consequences.  And a delicate thrill rippled through her body as she contemplated the range of consequences her big sister might impose.