by Van © 2016
		Chapter 8

BETWEEN THE corset, opera gloves, and strapless, shoulder-baring designer gown (with the butt-baring cutout)—all in silky beige—not to mention the diamond-encrusted choker around her throat and the diamond-encrusted handcuffs on her wrists, Cat didn't think her dinner with Lady Caerwyn could get any more strange or embarrassing (not to mention exciting).  She was wrong.

Nora returned from whatever disciplinary outrage she'd been inflicting on the maids—one of whom was Cat's very own goddaughter—and had served the meal.  She'd also fed Cat by hand, spoonful by spoonful and fork-load by fork-load.  As Cat's own hands were in her lap and she was unable to feed herself, there was no other viable option, other than going hungry.  But first, Nora muttered something about not allowing American trespassers to ruin expensive gowns they had no business wearing in the first place, then deployed "protection" in the form of what was either a giant bib, a clear plastic poncho, a disposable drop-cloth, or all of the above.

The plastic sheet had a small and mildly uncomfortable neck opening that secured by means of a plastic snap, and was the weight and strength of shrink-wrap, the sort of thing used to cover leftovers for storage in the refrigerator.  It was also somewhat clingy, in that it had an alarming tendency to adhere to Cat's shoulders and cleavage.  Nora helped the adhesion process with her grabby hands.  After dropping the clear, fluttering plastic over Cat's head and snapping the snap, the Staff Mistress proceeded to use said hands to make very sure the plastic clung to every square inch of Cat's exposed—meaning no longer exposed—skin.

The plastic was clammy and sticky, and became increasingly so as Cat began to sweat.

Jocelyn watched Nora's preparations with clear amusement, sipping wine as Nora ran her hands over Cat's squirming body for maximum effect, tucked in the sheet's loose ends, and fussed with her pouting guest.

The now plastic-wrapped Cat could have complained, not that it would have done any good, but decided to go with stony silence and sullen resentment.  Also, with blushing.  Cat's cheeks burned like crazy, and unless it was her imagination, the tops of her bulging and now plastic-wrapped boobs were also flushed... and damp.

Yes, Cat knew she could probably put an end to the entire humiliating "ordeal" with a few well-chosen words, but realistically, when would be her next opportunity to play a game this deliciously kinky?  It was like something out of an erotic novel, and a really good erotic novel, at that, not that Cat's collection of smutty paperbacks was all that extensive.  Far from it.  Anyway, she decided to remain stoically silent... and to wait and see how things developed.

At long last the meal commenced, and as course followed course, Nora served Jocelyn first, rather than Cat, her Ladyship's guest, explaining to Cat sotto voce that as she would be feeding Cat like a messy toddler, Her Ladyship could hardly be expected to wait in hunger.  It was hardly an apology.  Nora's attitude continued to be only marginally polite.  Cat could tell it was an act (probably), and she could also tell that Jocelyn was finding the awkward scene to be the very height of social frivolity.

Anyway, soup was followed by fish in a creamy sauce... which was followed by some sort of braised beef in thick brown gravy... which was followed by a garden salad dripping with vinaigrette... which was followed by plums in port.  In each case, Nora spooned or forked the food in question into Cat's mouth with practiced efficiency.  Unfortunately—or, as Cat was coming to suspect, deliberately—during the feeding process a little soup or sauce or dressing always managed to dribble from Cat's mouth, down her chin, and onto her plastic-wrapped chest and/or upper breasts.  Nora wasn't throwing food at her face, far from it, but Cat could tell she was rapidly becoming a disgraceful sight.

Cat ignored the glowering (and grinning) Staff Mistress shoveling food into her mouth, licked her lips as best she could between bites, and favored her blond hostess with a dignified expression.  Whining and sulking wasn't Cat's style.  Okay, sulking... maybe.  Cat was only human.

Finally, the meal was over.  Nora's final act was to release the giant bib's neck-snap and divest Cat of the plastic sheet, making sure none of the spots of food found their way to the underlying gown in the process.  Then, with a final bow to Her Ladyship (and a disdainful smirk in Cat's direction) the Staff Mistress was gone.

"Well, I hope that was enjoyable," Jocelyn said as she rose from her chair.

"Delish," Cat muttered with an even stare.  The sweat on her shoulders, neck, and boobs was drying, and the resulting cool tingle were one more thing for her to ignore.

Jocelyn clipped the leash back to Cat's choker and helped her from her chair.  She then wet a napkin in a water glass and used it to lightly scrub Cat's cheeks and pouting lips.  "Such a messy, petulant tomboy," Her Ladyship chuckled as she completed her impromptu toilette and dropped the napkin on the table.

Cat's bare butt was tingling.  She supposed it was a natural reaction to no longer being squashed into the soft cushion of the chair.  The leash snapped taut and they left the dining room.  The smile curling Lady Caerwyn's lips was infuriating... as was the graceful swing of her legs as her hips swung and her elegant gown swished... as was her strong, swinging arms and bare shoulders... and the swing and sway of her long, blond (with gray highlights) hair.  Infuriating!

Okay, Jocelyn was the most elegant, refined, aristocratically hot thing Cat had ever seen, and Cat felt like she was Alice in Kinky Wonderland, but her role was that of "petulant tomboy," so Her Ladyship's role was to be "infuriating."  I suppose she can be hot and infuriating, Cat silently conceded.

Cat realized they were retracing their steps to Her Ladyship's bedroom.  They passed the "cruel shoes" on the stairs, but apparently Jocelyn didn't feel the need to retrieve the stiletto-pumps or place them back on Cat's bare feet, for which she was very grateful.

Finally, they were back in the bedroom.  Cat's heart was hammering, again, and her bosom bulged against the tight confines of the corset and gown as she drew deep, even breaths.  Her butt cheeks were no longer tingling, but they were there... both of them... and they were naked.  Also, the evil, despicable crotch-strap cleaving her labia was sending shivers through her pussy.  Yeah, it's the strap, Cat decided as Jocelyn led her into the walk-in closet.  That's what's causing it.

Jocelyn proceeded to undress her guest.  The gown was first, of course.  The ribbon was untied from Cat's gloved thumbs, the clasps and zippers released, the sheath slithered to the floor, and Cat stepped free.  The corset was next, and the lacing bar wasn't required for its removal.  Her Ladyship released the crotch strap—which felt very good—then the corset's laces and clasps.  Finally, Cat was naked, but for the silky, beige opera gloves and her diamond-encrusted cuffs and choker.

Cat stared at her torso in the closet's multiple mirrors, lifting her gloved arms and cuffed hands for a better view.  The corset had left marks, but they weren't serious and she was sure they would quickly fade.   No longer supported by the corset's push-up shelves, her breasts were back to their usual firm, perky selves.  Her nipples were a little flushed and erect... a little... but she supposed that was only natural... if anything about this spectacularly wacky evening could be called "natural."

The blush returned to Cat's cheeks, the ones on her face, not her bare butt-cheeks.  She'd realized Jocelyn was admiring her in the mirrors... all of her.  Their reflections locked eyes... then Cat lowered her gaze and focused on her toes.

"Why don't you go use the facilities, darling?" Jocelyn suggested, then reached behind her back and unzipped her own gown.  "I'll be right behind you."

Cat blushed, or rather, continued blushing.  "Okay," she said in a whisper, then turned and left the closet.  As she padded to the bathroom she realized that she should have asked for her hideously expensive cuffs to be unlocked.  The glittering bracelets were joined in front, so it wasn't like she was totally helpless.  Truth be told, the stiff fingers of the opera gloves would be the worst impediment.  Also, the gloves themselves.  She couldn't splash her face without wetting the gloves, and she had no idea whether or not that would damage the fabric.  Best to err on the side of caution.

Cat gingerly sat on the commode and relieved herself—number one—then delicately (meaning awkwardly) used a fold of toilet paper to pat herself dry.  As she flushed the john, Jocelyn joined her in the bathroom.

Cat realized she was staring at her hostess (captor).  Jocelyn was naked... as in nude... again... and she was as beautiful as ever.  Cat continued staring as Her Ladyship sat on the commode and relieved herself—also a number one—then wiped herself and flushed the bowl.  There was something incredibly intimate about watching the naked aristocrat perform such a mundane function.

"I-I like your breasts," Cat said quietly—then her eyes popped wide and her blush deepened.  Why did I say that? she chided herself.  Granted, they were exquisite breasts... but why did I say that?

Her Ladyship's response was a coy smile, as well as a delicate blush.  "Thank you, Caitlyn," Jocelyn purred, stepped forward, and gently cupped Cat's breasts.  "I also like your breasts, darling."

With her hands cuffed in front, Cat could have done something about Jocelyn's hands, but for some inexplicable reason... she didn't.  "Your breasts are bigger," Cat whispered.  She was panting, again, just a little.  It was enough to make her boobs rise and fall in Jocelyn's gentle grip.  Also, her nipples were pointing like crazy... and Cat realized Jocelyn's nips were pointing, as well.

"I'm not at all sure that's the case, darling," Jocelyn purred as she gently massaged Cat's breasts.  "Your breasts are a delightful handful."  The massage continued.  "I suppose we should brush our teeth," Her Ladyship purred.

Cat shivered and closed her eyes.  "Hmm..." she agreed, then she opened her eyes, again.  Jocelyn had released her breasts, stepped to the washbasin, and was loading a toothbrush with paste.  Cat watched as Jocelyn brushed her teeth, and she was doing it by the book, crosswise and lengthwise, front and back.  She then spat in the sink, rinsed her mouth, swished for several seconds, then spat, again.

Jocelyn reloaded the brush with paste, then held it before Cat's blushing face.

Cat opened her mouth, and allowed Her Ladyship to brush her teeth.  Jocelyn was just as thorough as she'd been with the cleaning of her own mouth.  She was also gentle.  Cat realized that at some point, her embarrassed blushing had become flushed arousal.  Jocelyn rinsed the brush, then filled a water glass and held it to Cat's lips.  She rinsed her mouth and spit in the sink, then Jocelyn led her from the bathroom.

Their destination was the dressing table, and Cat watched as Jocelyn used a tiny key to unlock the heart-shaped padlock joining her diamond cuffs, then unlocked and removed the cuffs and returned them to their jewelry case.  The choker was next, and now, Cat was as naked as her hostess, except for the beige opera-gloves hugging her fingers, hands, wrists, and arms from her fingertips to above her elbows.  Cat assumed they would be removed next.  She was wrong.

Jocelyn pulled Cat's hands behind her back, opened a drawer in the dressing table and pulled out a long, narrow, dark-brown ribbon, and proceeded to bind Cat's crossed wrists together.  Cat watched in the mirror as Jocelyn's deft fingers pulled strand after strand of ribbon tight, around and between her wrists in both directions... in all directions... then tied an elegant knot and tucked the free ends under the bindings between her arms and well away from her useless fingers.

Why did I let her do that? Cat wondered as she twisted her wrists and tested her new bonds.  Her heart was still hammering and her breasts bobbing as she panted.  She was also still blushing... or was still aroused.  Anyway, she could tell that unless the ribbon's final knot decided to magically fall apart on its own, she would be Her Ladyship's prisoner until released.

Jocelyn pulled a second long, narrow, brown ribbon from the drawer, then took Cat by the arm and led her to the center of the bedroom.  "Down on the carpet, darling," she purred, pointing at the thick, plush pile under their bare feet.

"Huh?" Cat asked (profoundly).  "The carpet?"  She turned and looked at the bed—the gigantic, four-post, no doubt decadently comfortable bed she'd assumed would be their ultimate destination—then turned back to blink at Her Ladyship.  "The carpet?"

Smiling a coy (evil) smile, Jocelyn pointed to the floor but said nothing more.

Cat heaved a sigh, settled onto her rump, and watched as Jocelyn knelt, pulled her feet together, and began binding her ankles with the second ribbon.  Her ankles were joined, the bindings cinched, then the remaining ribbon used to crisscross her feet with an elegant "X"-shaped hitch, then bind her big toes together.  Cat flexed her bound feet and toes.  "Ow!" she complained, but truth be told, Her Ladyship had left her plenty of wiggle room.

Cat continued struggling as Jocelyn gracefully stood, strolled to the bed, pulled back the covers, then climbed between the sheets.  Her back against the pillows piled against the headboard, Jocelyn stretched her arms, then smiled at the prisoner on the carpet.

Cat tugged on her bound wrists and favored her captor with a disdainful frown.

"My slender, fit, petulant little tomboy," Jocelyn purred.

Cat tugged on her bonds, again.  "Yeah, I got yer 'petulant tomboy' right here," she huffed.  She would have liked to have flipped her hostess the bird, but between her hands being bound behind her back and the opera gloves' stiff fingers, that was impossible—but she was sure Lady Caerwyn got her point.

"Wonderful," Jocelyn chuckled.  "I truly love your charming accent."

"Yeah," Cat huffed, continuing to fight her bonds, "you can take the girl out of Brooklyn, strip her naked and tie her up, but you can't take the Brooklyn out of the girl."

Jocelyn laughed in delight.  "Yes," she agreed, then carefully composed herself.  "Now, emotionally, this evening has unfolded quickly, as I'm sure you'll agree, and I sense you've not really had a chance to sort out your feelings."

Cat heaved a sigh, then gave her wrists a final, futile twist.  "No," she admitted.  "I haven't."

"Well," Jocelyn continued.  "Now would be the perfect opportunity.  It's also a good time for us to discuss the remainder of your visit."

"Uh..."  Cat swallowed, nervously.  "Okay... I guess."

"You guess," Jocelyn chuckled.  "Very well.  Now, I want you to continue struggling as we chat, and feel free to roll around and make your efforts as energetic as possible.  I find it most entertaining to watch a damsel in distress convince herself that she is well and truly helpless."

That tingle was back between Cat's legs, in spades.  "Okay."  She gave her bonds another weak tug and her feet a perfunctory twist.

"Oh, I'll need to see more enthusiasm than that," Jocelyn purred.  Her evil smile was back.  "In fact, let's see you work up a bit of a sweat for the next five minutes.  Then we'll chat."

Cat favored her gorgeously hot, naked, infuriatingly smug hostess with her best "petulant tomboy" pout, then set to work.  She didn't really have much choice in the matter.

"Meanwhile, down in the dungeons..." Cecelia whispered with a sigh.  She was lying on her back and box-tied arms in the straw with Elyse embracing her from the side.  Round one of Cecelia's "finger-fiddling" lesson was a thing of the past... as was round two.

"What was that, darling?" Elyse purred.  She gave Cecelia's body a squeeze, then ran her smooth, surprisingly strong hands over her student's abdomen and breasts.

Cecelia heaved another sigh.  "I was just thinkin' that if I was writin' this as a story, the next part would start somethin' like... 'Upstairs in the dark, silent castle, Lady Caerwyn slept in her giant, oh-so-comfortable bed—the gawky American with the freakishly short hair slumbered in the palatial guest room she'd done nothing to deserve—and Nora, the fiendishly evil Staff Mistress, hung by her heels from the rafters of her tower lair with the other bats.'  Words to that effect.  Isn't that what you think is goin' on?"

"Mistress Nora does not sleep like a bat," Elyse giggled, "I assure you."

"If you say so," Cecelia sighed.  "Anyway...  'Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, the wicked ginger maid had finished ravishing the beautiful American with the long, golden tresses, the other American."  She paused before continuing for a huge, kittenish yawn.  "And the pair drifted off to sleep."

"Oh no you don't," Elyse giggled.  "Your lessons for the evening aren't complete."

Cecelia sighed, again, and this time with more than a hint of exasperation.  "I think I've got the finger thing down pat," she huffed.  "Untie me and I'll show you."

Elyse released her embrace, climbed onto Cecelia, and settled her weight onto the helpless blonde's tummy.  The chain connecting their collars rattled as Elyse arranged the links to the side and out of the way.  The smile dimpling the ginger maid's cheeks and curling her pink lips was undeniably evil.  Cecelia couldn't help but smile back.

Elyse brushed an errant strand of blond hair from Cecelia's face.  "Do you really think Mistress Cat is 'gawky' and her hair 'freakishly short?'  I think she's beautiful."  She leaned close and kissed Cecelia's lips.  "Like you."

"Cat's beautiful," Cecelia admitted.  "I've always thought Cat was beautiful... just don't tell her I said so."

"Mum's the word," Elyse giggled, then plucked the loose panties from the straw beside Cecelia's head, gave the slightly saliva-dampened mass a shake, and began picking the loose straw from the silky white folds.

Cecelia eyed the process of Elyse cleaning the panties with apprehension.  "Uh... seriously... I'm tired.'

"At least you're finally serious," Elyse giggled, then crumpled the panties into a compact wad.  "Say 'ah,' darling."

"Ah, c'mon," Cecelia whined.  "There's no need to—m'mrmf!"

"Not 'ah, c'mon,'" Elyse giggled as she stuffed the panties into Cecelia's mouth.  "just 'ah' will do."  She used the folded scarf to give her glowering student another tight cleave-gag, this time placing the square-knot directly over Cecelia's silk-stuffed mouth.  "Sound echoes from these stone walls, darling," she explained as she combed the tousled hair from Cecelia's face, "and you've already made it quite clear that you're a screamer."

"Mrrm'pfh," Cecelia growled, staring daggers at her smiling instructor.  The Gaglish to English translation of the glowering blonde's remark was "Eat me," but little did she suspect that eating was more-or-less exactly what Elyse had in mind.

"Now," Elyse continued, "we've already covered the use of fingers..."  She extended her legs and wiggled down Cecelia's body until her smiling face was inches from Cecelia's pussy and her hands on the bound and gagged blonde's inner thighs.  The long chain joining their collars was no impediment to Elyse's change of position.  "Our next introductory lesson—"  Elyse paused to deliberately blow a few errant fragments of straw from Cecelia's labia.  "—will concern the use of lips and tongue."

"Mrrrf!"  Cecelia tried closing her legs, but Elyse was too strong.  Anyway, that was Cecelia's story and she was sticking to it.  The petite, ginger maid's pale, delicate hands were too strong and Cecelia's thigh muscles were too weak for her to resist.  A delicate shiver rippled through Cecelia's pussy and up her spine as Elyse extended her tongue and delivered a long, deep, languid lick to Cecelia's flushed, glistening labia.

Elyse paused in her latest lesson to smile and gaze up the length of her student's bound body and focus on her gagged and shining face.  "I'm telling Mistress Nora that you said she sleeps like a bat," she said.  "You'll be lucky if she ever lets you go back to being Her Ladyship's guest."

It wasn't at all clear whether or not Cecelia had heard Elyse's teasing threat; however, it was very clear that she was aware of the wicked ginger's darting, flicking tongue.

Cat continued struggling on the thick, soft carpet, struggling to the point that she did work up a bit of a sweat, as Her Ladyship had ordered; however, she made no headway towards the goal of escaping from Jocelyn's cunningly tied ribbons.  Her wrists remained crossed behind her back and her feet tightly and elegantly bound at the ankles, insteps, soles, and big toes.  She had no idea if five minutes had actually passed, but enough was enough.

Clad only in the skintight, silky, beige opera-gloves with the stiff fingers, her tan skin shining with a patina of sweat, and her ribbon-bonds completely intact, Cat rolled onto her side, lifted her pouting head, and glared at the gorgeous, naked aristocrat comfortably reclined between the cool, comfortable sheets of her gigantic bed.  Nostrils flaring and breasts heaving (slightly), Cat continued to glare.

"My petulant tomboy," Jocelyn chuckled, then stretched her arms to either side and yawned.  "Eyah!"  She covered her sheepishly smiling mouth with the back of one hand.  "Pardon me," she purred, then threw back the sheets and patted the mattress at her side.  "Come join me, darling," she suggested (ordered).

Cat continued glaring... and breathing deeply... and glaring.

"You don't really want to sleep on the cold floor," Jocelyn teased, "do you?"

Truth be told, the floor was hardly what Cat would call 'cold,' but the bed was enticing... not to mention the sight of the naked Lady Caerwyn... with her long, loose, blond hair (with gray highlights), as well as her breasts, smooth skin, breasts, firm, athletic body, and breasts.

Do I really want to do this? Cat thought.  Jocelyn smiled at her from the bed, her arms spread wide.  "Well," Cat grumbled, "if I have to."  She began squirming and struggling.  Her actions were more-or-less identical to her earlier, futile efforts to escape, but this time they propelled her in the direction of the bed and its beautiful occupant.  "Ow!" she complained.  Her bound toes didn't really hurt... much... but petulant tomboys complain about such things... and evil, beautiful, aristocratic tyrants enjoy it when they do... so Cat complained.

A thrill rippled through Jocelyn's body as she watched the proud American hoyden wiggle and squirm in her direction.  So beautiful, she mused, so strong... but one task remains.  "Wait, darling," she purred.

Cat checked her struggling progress, lifted her chin, and glared at Jocelyn.  "What?" she demanded.

"Do you want to be here, darling?" Jocelyn said, quietly.  "Do you want to share my bed?"

Cat considered making a flippant answer, but sensed that her hostess was serious.  This was part of the game, but not part of the entertainment.  Cat's heart was hammering, again, and the thrill was back between her legs.  Moment of truth, she thought.

Silence stretched in the darkened bedroom.

Cat's skin gleamed in the light of the bedside lamp.

Jocelyn's fair, smooth skin seemed to glow.

The issue wasn't really in doubt.  Cat might be bound and helpless, but she knew Jocelyn only played at being the cruel captor, and with a light hand.

On her part, Jocelyn could tell her guest's (playmate's) reluctance was feigned.  She was sure of it.

Finally, a delicate blush touching her shining cheeks, Cat heaved a sigh and spoke.  "Yes," she said, and resumed her ribbon-bound, naked, squirming journey.  She could have said more, but she didn't need to say more.

Jocelyn's smile broadened and she flung her arms wide in welcome, again.

Kadence Harrington was naked and tied up... very tied up.

Her wrists were behind her back and bound with an excessive quantity of thin cord.  More cord bound her legs together and pinned her arms against her torso, and once again, the operative word was 'excessive.'  Mrs. Ingleby had done the deed, and she'd used many, many yards of cord in the process.

A complete inventory of the the ginger shop girl's bound anatomy included her big toes, the insteps and soles of her feet—her ankles—her lower legs, around her calves and shins and just below her knees—her upper legs just above her knees and around her mid-thighs—her wrists, with her hands palm-to-palm—her forearms and waist—her elbows, with them nearly touching—and her upper arms and torso, with cord bands yoking her shoulders and passing above, below, and between her breasts.

There were four additional features of Kadence's bondage:

(1) Her fingers were wrapped in tight, overlapping layers of stretchy medical tape, the kind used to secure compression bandages.  Mrs. Ingleby had first wrapped each hand separately, then both hands together.  The result was a single useless "flipper."

(2) A cats-cradle of thin cords dove between the captive's legs and linked her wrist bonds to the cords binding her forearms and waist bonds.  The resulting "crotch web" pressed her bound and tape-wrapped wrists and hands firmly against her butt-cheeks, cleaved her pussy, and pinched her labia together against the elaborately and repeatedly knotted central strands.

(3) Her long, straight, ginger hair was plaited in a single tight braid around more of the thin cord.  The braid was then folded back upon itself and neatly wrapped for several inches with more cord, forming a loop convenient as either a handle or a lashing point, should Mrs. Ingleby decide to add it to her other bondage or use it as a tethering point.

(4) A ring-gag was buckled and padlocked in Kadence's mouth.  The padded ring was wedged behind her teeth, propping her mouth wide open, and the strap was tight enough to make her flushed cheeks bulge.

Kadence heaved a sad, drooling sigh.  As Lady Caerwyn's American guests would say, this was not her first rodeo.  She could read the signs.  Mrs. Ingleby was frustrated.  All the action of the latest game was on the Isle of Caer, with only poor, innocent Kadence Harrington available for the Wicked Witch of the Village to scratch her itch.

This was a somewhat impolite description of the situation, but Kadence wasn't in a charitable mood.  Eunice Ingleby wasn't the only resident of Lytham-on-Ribble who wished she was visiting the castle and participating in the fun.  Far from it, and the knotted cords sliding through the ginger captive's cord-pinched pussy whenever she tried to move was not what she had in mind when she'd "volunteered" to be Eunice's guest for the evening.

And as for the ring-gag, usually, when Eunice was in one of her excessively wicked moods, a gag meant a crumpled pairs of knickers, a couple of narrowly folded scarves, a folded pair of knickers and an over-the-mouth scarf as both muffling and padding, and finally, most of a roll of duct-tape, medical plaster, or electrical tape, stretched tight in overlapping layers to mummify her lower face from nostrils to chin.  Ridiculously over-the-top bondage calls for a ridiculously over-the-top gag.  The fact that Kadence's mouth was propped open, instead, meant that Eunice had plans for her tongue.  The Wicked Witch was serious about getting her itch scratched, but she wasn't in a mood to make it easy for poor, helpless Kadence.

Finally, with her legs just about as tightly and thoroughly tied together as was inhumanly possible—with the labia-pinching crotch-web of flesh-dimpling cord—tonight would be all about Eunice.  Kadence was here to serve.  Mrs. Ingleby was being supremely selfish!  Only one occupant of Eunice's bed would have her bell rung this night, and it wouldn't be Kadence Harrington.

Kadence was angry enough to spit!  But all she could do was wiggle a little... and drool.  She was also about as hot, bothered, and aroused as was humanly possible.  She tingled from her ring-gagged head to her bound toes, and it wasn't from loss of circulation.  Eunice Ingleby had been thorough—excessively thorough—but Kadence knew there would be no long-term harm from the expertly applied plethora of thin cord.

At the moment, Kadence was alone in the bedroom, wiggling and drooling on Eunice's bed.  Her hostess and captor had completed her bondage, then announced that she needed to make a telephone call.  Kadence considered this further evidence of the Wicked Witch's frustrated mood, that she would bind and gag her poor, innocent, naked self, and then decide to chat on the phone.  Delayed gratification.

Just then, Eunice breezed back into the bedroom, back to the scene of her hideous damsel-binding crime.  A happy smile curled her evil lips, a sparkle was in her fiendish eyes, and her gossamer-thin robe was open and flapping, revealing her matching nightie... not that her sleeping costume would have been up to concealing the Wicked Witch's body if the robe's thin belt had been properly cinched.  Good Lord she's beautiful for an old crone, Kadence sighed.  Despite being the victim of the crime in question, Kadence couldn't help but be aroused by Eunice Ingleby... kindly hotel and public house keeper by day, scantily clad dominatrix by night.

"Is Lily Hardwell ready to take care of the shop on her own for a few days, Kadence, darling?" Eunice inquired as she padded to the bed and removed her robe.

Kadence blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, then nodded her ring-gagged head (freeing more saliva to drip down her chin).  Lily Hardwell was the latest in the endless stream of village maidens being groomed as possible future maids to serve Lady Caerwyn.  She was currently a part time shop-girl at Titania's Wardrobe, starting out the same way Kadence had started her "career" as a Caerwyn retainer.  Of course, Lily was still a schoolgirl and not yet initiated into the more erotic aspects of castle service.  However, Lily was a clever and trustworthy youngster (not to mention very easy on the eyes), and Kadence was sure she was up to the task of running the shop on her own for a while.  And the village network of ex-maids would help as required.

"Good," Eunice chuckled as she opened a lower drawer of the nightstand.  "Nora says the American tourists' visit to the Isle of Caer continues to unfold as expected, and Her Ladyship has extended an invitation for the two of us to join the party."

Kadence's eyes popped wide as she watched Eunice pull her butterfly vibrator from the drawer.  It was purple, translucent latex, with an embedded pill-vibrator and a battery pack and variable control attached by a long, thin wire.  And it did, indeed, take the shape of a butterfly.  A harness of thin, elastic straps were ready to hold the butterfly tightly in place, snuggled against a damsel's pussy; however, as Kadence watched, Eunice unsnapped the clips securing the vibrator to the harness.  Eunice returned the tangle of black elastic bands to the drawer, then her hand returned with several tiny black cable-ties.

Still smiling her wicked smile and her eyes still sparkling, Eunice rolled Kadence onto her back and bound arms, then proceeded to install the butterfly as intended, only using the cord crotch-web and cable-ties in lieu of the harness.

Kadence didn't resist.  Not only would it be pointless to try, but Eunice's reaction was unpredictable.  Kadence was already surprised by the appearance of the butterfly, and didn't want to tip the scale towards arbitrary punishment for the offense of "blatant disobedience."  She stared at the control in Eunice's hand, then shifted her focus to her captor's (lover's) smiling face.

Edith turned the dial of the controller... one click... two clicks... and the butterfly came to life.  It was not on full power.  Far from it.  The latex insect was just barely vibrating.

Kadence shivered in her bonds.  She couldn't help it.  Also, it was expected.

"Apparently," Eunice said as she tucked the controller under a strand of Kadence's crotch-web, "Everyone at the castle is having a most enjoyable evening, the exception being poor Nora.  I gave her permission to play with herself, of course.  It's the least I could do, but Nora is alone in her bed, the only resident or guest without a companion for the evening.  Poor Nora."

Kadence continued shivering.  Poor Nora, indeed.  Kadence had served under Staff Mistress Nora Rigby and was of the opinion that "Poor Nora" deserved a little erotic frustration now and then.  She wasn't serious, of course.  That said, one day Kadence Harrington might assume the role of Castle Caerwyn's Staff Mistress, if she was lucky.  She resolved to be a kind and benevolent overseer, making life easier for her cousin Elyse, Lily Hardwell, or any other village maiden who toiled under her supervision... not!  Without a capriciously cruel House Mistress, the entire Castle Caerwyn dynamic would fall apart.  It would ruin the game, and Kadence certainly didn't want that to happen.  No one in the village (meaning those in the know, of course) wanted that to happen.

"Anyway," Eunice said as she reclined against the pillows piled against the headboard, "tomorrow you'll arrange for Lily to keep the shop open, I'll see to operations at The Blood Rose and Trumpet in my absence, and we'll make our way to the Castle, either tomorrow evening or the next day."  She stretched before continuing.  "In the meanwhile..." she hitched up the bottom hem of her nightie and made a languid gesture towards her splayed legs and waiting pussy.  She wasn't wearing knickers.  "Wiggle your way down there and entertain your hostess."

Kadence was still shivering.  The butterfly was working its magic.  Not only was it vibrating, but it was causing the knotted cords cleaving her pussy and the cords pinching her labia to vibrate as well.

Eunice's smile turned even more wicked and evil.  "And don't you dare cum until given permission," she purred.  "Our impending visit to the castle may have put me in a more generous mood, but not that generous.  If you want to avoid punishment and have a nice, pleasant orgasm of your own, you'll earn it."  She picked up the butterfly's controller, locked eyes with Kadence, and advanced the dial one more click.  "Get busy, Kadence, darling, and you still may not cum."

Kadence whined through her ring-gag and continued shivering.  The incremental increase in the butterfly's level of stimulation had been noticeable, but (thankfully) small; however, she knew that if Eunice advanced the dial one or possibly two more clicks, she'd have no choice but to be "disobedient."  Kadence started squirming and inching towards her goal, Eunice Ingleby's flushed and glistening pussy.