TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van© 2011		_
		Chapter 1

Nefarious Naughtiness (& Betrayal!)
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Hannah and Sydney were in the Foxwood armory, strapping on various lethal weapons.  They were dressed in versions of their "Foxwood Retainer" and "Evil Baroness" costumes, respectively.

Hannah's outfit consisted of knee boots, leather pants, a sleeveless leather jerkin, and a corset belt with the sheaths of two daggers attached.  The garments were in good shape (and hugged Hannah's toned, athletic form like a second skin), but the saddle-brown leather had the mottled, shiny appearance of wear.  The handle of a battleax was tucked in a holster and slung by a strap over her shoulder.  A sheathing flap protected the blade.  The blond hair of the "Saxon Maiden" was parted down the middle and plaited into a pair of long, loose braids.  They framed her beautiful, tan, frowning face.

Sydney's ensemble was similar and was also leather, for the most part, but was dyed a shade closer to russet.  Its cut was also somewhat finer in appearance, as was appropriate for a "Noblewoman".  She was wearing a green linen shirt with full sleeves (a "Poofy Pirate Shirt", as Cricket called them) under her jerkin, and leather bracers were laced over her wrists and forearms.  Leather pants and thigh-boots completed the costume, but instead of a corset-belt, she wore a sword-belt, with fighting-dagger and longsword attached.  Her long, copper-red hair was combed straight back in a ponytail and spilled down her back in a riot of curls.  An irritatingly smug smile curled her coral lips and her green eyes danced with amusement above freckled cheeks.

"Let me get this straight," Hannah growled.  "You've decided to kidnap Jillian without Pilar?"

"What part has you confused?" Sydney chuckled.  "Would you like me to speak slower?  Or maybe draw you some pictures?"

"I'd like you to explain why you're being such a selfish bitch!" Hannah snapped.

"Selfish?"

"Pilar, moron," Hannah huffed.  "We're supposed to be a secret triad of rebel freedom-fighters heroically striving for justice and revenge against your sister, the Cruel Tyrant, remember?  Also, why are you cluing me in on this wonderful plan now, one minute before the dirty deed?"

"Pilar will get to play, I promise," Sydney responded.  "And don't forget who's the Baroness and who's the Saxon Thrall around here, Blondie."

Hannah's blue eyes narrowed.  "Yeah, well how'd you like this Saxon Thrall to shove her ax up your—"

Sydney leaned forward and interrupted her girlfriend with a kiss.  "Hold that thought," she chuckled.  "I've already set this up with Pilar.  We're going to kidnap my dear sister, drag her bound and gagged carcass to the main gate, and straight to some transportation I've arranged to spirit her away.  Cricket and Connie are shopping in Frisco and won't be back 'til tomorrow.  Kayley is buying plants at that nursery way the other side of Eureka and won't be back 'til after dark.  The timing is perfect."

"Transportation?  To Carleton Castle?"

"Something like that," Sydney purred.  "That, too, is a surprise."

"You do enjoy being the mysterious, scheming harpy, don't you?" Hannah sighed.  "And Pilar is okay with not being in on the actual kidnapping?"

"She'll get to play, like I told you," Sydney responded, "and I didn't tell you 'til now 'cause your poker face is worse than Alice's.  I want Jillian's surprise to be... delicious."

"Yeah, with a rich, creamy center," Hannah muttered.  "Okay, you get your way, as always."

Sydney kissed Hannah, again.  "As always, but I've changed my mind.  Lose the ax.  We're going with the 'already captured' option for our part of the scenario."

Hannah rolled her eyes.  "You just watched me waste two minutes readjusting the strap," she muttered, but returned the ax and holster to their storage places among the other medieval weaponry, as ordered.  "I assume you want me to keep the dagger sheaths," she sighed, drawing both weapons and handing them, hilt-first, to Sydney.

"Yes," Sydney agreed, "as if you had just been disarmed by Princess Alice's Heroic Rescuer, which would be me."  She tucked the daggers in her boot tops, then pulled a coil of hemp rope from a nearby rack.  Actually, the rope was synthetic microfiber that only resembled hemp.  It was kinder to a damsel's skin than natural hemp, a serious consideration when the damsel in question was a paying customer, and didn't require the careful conditioning and regular maintenance of the real stuff.

Hannah sighed, again, then turned her back to her supposed captor and crossed her wrists.

With practiced hands, Sydney bound her lover in an inescapable box-tie.  Soon, Hannah's arms were folded behind her back and tight, neat faux-hemp bands lashed her forearms and wrists, pinned her arms to her sides, framed her breasts, and yoked her shoulders.  "Hmm, not quite right," Sydney purred, and spun Hannah around.  She loosened the lacing of Hannah's jerkin and tugged the smooth, brown leather to either side, exposing more of the pouting prisoner's firm, tan breasts, almost to the nipples.  "That's better," she chuckled, and spun Hannah around, again.  She tugged the rope at the nape of her prisoner's neck, tightening the other ropes in the process, then tied the final knots.

"You'll never get away with this," Hannah muttered in a bored tone.  "My Mistress will have you tortured to death.  She'll hunt you down no matter where you hide, even if you flee to the Hyperborean Wastes, etc., etc."

"Save it for the paying customers," Sydney laughed.  "This is just a walk-through to check our blocking, remember?"  She reached around Hannah's bound body from either side and stuffed a large wad of crumpled linen in her mouth, then used a second, folded cloth to tie a tight cleave-gag.  She then spun Hannah around, again, and pushed her back against the rough stone of the armory wall.

"Mrrfh!" Hannah complained.

"Quiet, Saxon," Sydney whispered, leaning close until they were face to face.  Her hands began exploring the helpless blonde's leather-clad body.

Hannah shivered, tugging on her bonds and trying to squirm away (or making a show of trying, anyway).

"Keep still," Sydney ordered, her freckled face pressed against Hannah's tan cheek, above her gag.  Her lips playfully nibbled her lover's ear.  She planted a gentle kiss on each of Hannah's closed eyes.  "I have to frisk you for more weapons, don't I?"

"Nrrrf!" Hannah moaned.  Sydney's strong, freckled fingers were exploring the skin-tight crotch of her leather pants.

"Nothing lethal down here," Sydney whispered, then shifted her teasing search to Hannah's bulging, half-exposed breasts.  "Or here."

Hannah shivered, again, then opened her eyes.

Sydney had taken a step back and was gazing into her prisoner's gagged face.  "You know that I love you, Hannah, don't you?" she asked.

Hannah blinked in surprise.  Sydney's expression was... puzzling.  What the hell is this about? she wondered, then nodded.

"Remember that," Sydney continued.  "I'll never let any harm come to you.  Remember that."

"Mrrfh?"

Sydney sighed, then drew her sword.  "Let's get on with it," she muttered, then gripped the nexus of ropes between Hannah's shoulder blades with her left hand and pushed her out the door and down the hallway.

That was weird, Hannah though, as she was ushered along.  I'll have to get her to explain, after rehearsal.

Meanwhile, down in one of the torture chambers...

---

Jillian Foxwood, Mistress of Foxwood Keep, gazed down at her helpless prisoner.  "Princess Alice", the prisoner in question, gazed back.

Jillian was wearing a long, medieval gown of forest green velvet with full skirts and drooping sleeves.  This particular design had a tightly laced bodice and plunging neckline.  Her Ladyship preferred fashions with significant décolletage.  Her long, red hair (the same coppery shade as her kid sister Sydney and young cousin Alice) trailed in a loose French braid down her back.  Her only weapon was a small dagger sheathed on the long belt buckled loosely around her wasp-thin waist.  Slipper boots of rust-red leather completed the ensemble.

Alice, on the other hand, was completely naked, if you didn't count the iron collar locked around her throat and the patina of sweat and grime on her firm, toned, freckled body.  Her red curls a tousled mass, she lay on her back on the hard, oak surface of the torture chamber's bondage table.  Her ankles were a foot apart and locked in stocks at one end of the narrow strip of heavy timbers, and her wrists were trapped in similar stocks at the other.  The wooden fetters were adjusted to enforce a stringent spread-eagle on the young damsel; however, the stretch wasn't particularly punishing.  And while the stocks were wide and the openings tight, they were well-padded with scraps of fleece.  On a slightly harsher note, faux-hemp rope bound Alice's naked form to the table, dimpling her flesh as it crisscrossed from one side of the table to the other, traveling from lashing point to lashing point.

"Is it just me," Alice sighed, "or are they taking their sweet time getting down here?"

"They don't seem to be in a hurry," Jillian agreed.  She poured wine from a silver pitcher into a silver goblet, then took a sip.  "Perhaps we can find a way to pass the time," she suggested.

"Oh, here we go," Alice muttered.  "What are you going to do to my innocent, helpless body this time?"

"Innocent?"

"I was speaking of Crown Princess Alice," the captive answered, "the sweet, young, beloved-of-the-people ingenue kidnapped by her wicked, evil aunt."

"Who is eminently worthy of rescue," Jillian grinned.

"And somewhat thirsty."

Smiling sweetly, Jillian used one hand to lift and support her young cousin's head, and carefully tipped the goblet so she could drink.

"Ahh, thanks," Alice sighed, licking her lips.

"My pleasure," Jillian responded.  "And speaking of pleasure..."  She walked to a nearby table, set down the goblet, and surveyed the objects arrayed on its surface.  They included a riding crop, a multi-tailed flogger, a Drowish Torture Wand (a disguised vibrator), and a wooden cup holding a dozen long, stiff quills.  Jillian selected a quill, turned in a swirl of velvet, and strolled back to the bondage table.

"There's nothing pleasurable about tickle-torture," Alice muttered.

"I was speaking of my pleasure," Jillian purred.

"Of course you were," Alice sighed.

Twirling the quill between her fingers, Jillian strolled to the foot of the table.  "Why didn't you go to San Francisco with Cricket and Connie?" she inquired.

Alice blinked at the unexpected question.  "Oh, I don't know.  I think if I'd tagged along, this time, I might have made Connie feel like a third wheel.  This way, the cousins get a chance to bond.  Cricket and I get plenty of chances to, uh... bond."

"A very mature attitude, young lady," Jillian smiled.  "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Alice huffed.  "Proud enough not to tickle my feet?"

Jillian gazed at the wrinkled soles and wiggling toes of the freckled, helpless feet in question.  She smiled and continued to twirl the feather.  "Oh, very well," she said, finally.

"Thank you," Alice sighed, and watched as Jillian strolled to the table's midpoint, roughly even with her hips and waist.

"Goodness," Jillian purred, "just look how vulnerable this position makes your ribs and armpits."

"Jillian!" Alice whined.

"This is a torture chamber," Jillian noted, still smiling.  "There has to be some torture."

"Not really," Alice countered.  "It's just a walk-through, remember?"

"I thought you were bored with the wait."

"Bored?  Who, me?"  Alice squirmed in her bonds.  "No way!  I'm not bored."

Just then, the iron-bound, wooden door opened, revealing a bound and gagged Hannah.  Behind her, with sword drawn, was the swashbuckling Baroness Sydney.

"My hero!" Alice cried, lifting her head and batting her eyes for effect.

"Right," Sydney huffed.  "Here I come to save the day, yadda-yadda-yadda."

"How dare you," Jillian said, in a conversational tone.  "I'll have you flogged, etc., etc.  I reach for my dagger—"  Her hand moved to her belt—

Pushing the bound and gagged Hannah before her, Sydney rushed forward and used the tip of her sword to lift her big sister's chin.  "No you don't, Cruel Tyrant."

Jillian raised her hands.  "What are you going to do, Despicable Outlaw?"

"I'm taking the Princess back to her mother, the Queen." Sydney stated.

"I'm saved!" Alice sighed.

"Uh... too much sugar, Princess," Jillian said.  "You're a spoiled, regal brat, remember?"

Alice favored the Mistress of the Keep with her best pout.  "And a spoiled, regal brat isn't overjoyed to be rescued from the clutches of her wicked aunt?"

"You should discuss the subtleties of the character with Connie," Jillian suggested, "before we move on to dress rehearsals, perhaps over tea.  You need to be more—"

"Ahem," Sydney interrupted.

"Oh, sorry," Jillian chuckled.  She turned to face the wall and placed her spread hands on the rough stone.

"One move and I'll run you through," Sydney warned, then sheathed her sword and reached for a convenient coil of rope.

"Outrage, dire warnings, etc., etc.," Jillian countered.

Hannah watched as Sydney gathered Jillian's hands behind her back and began tying another box-tie.  This surprised none present.  The arms-folded-and-pinned technique was the Evil Baroness' established favorite.  Cloth stuffing and a gag followed.  Next, Sydney tied one end of a second coil of rope around Jillian's throat, pulled Hannah to Lady Foxwood's side, and used the middle of the rope to give the bound Saxon a neck tether.  She pulled the remaining free end through an iron ring set in the wall and tied a quick-release knot.

Alice rolled her eyes.  "Wrong!  You're supposed to leave them bound hand and foot on the floor on opposite sides of the room.  Close together, like that, they can untie each other."

Sydney strolled to a wooden trunk, opened the lid, and rummaged inside.  "They won't have time."

Alice was still confused.  "But... Connie's stage directions are clear.  You're supposed to bind and gag Her Ladyship and her hottie-at-arms, untie me, I get dressed—"  She nodded towards the dirty, tattered "Cinderella Dress" hanging from a peg by the door.  "And then we sneak through the Keep and escape into the Green Wood."

"Change of plan," Sydney chuckled.  She strolled to the bondage table.  It was obvious she was hiding something behind her back.

"Aw, c'mon!" Alice complained.  "Kay-bear's away and it's my turn to cook.  The pork loin roast is already marinating.  If you want to eat, tonight, I need to get it into the oven in the next hour.  No—M'mmpfh!"

"Not to worry, twerp," Sydney grinned.  She was busy shoving the large, padded, leather-clad plug of a panel-gag into Alice's mouth.  "I'll see to it."  She turned her cousin's head to the side and buckled the gag's strap at the nape of her neck.

Her blue-green eyes wide with outrage (and poorly disguised fear), Alice squirmed and tugged on her bonds and glared at her older cousin's smug face.  "Nrrrrf!"

Sydney reached out and cupped Alice's slightly stretched, rope-framed breasts, and gave them a gentle squeeze.  She then took the pointing nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and gave them a tug.

"Mfffh!"

"Let's see now," Sydney purred.  "Right off the top of my head, I can think of three ways to entertain these little gals.  I can apply spring-loaded clamps and rig the water-torture apparatus with the spout dripping on your forehead.  As the reservoir empties, the counterbalance weight will drop, and the attached cords will slooowly tighten the clamps."  She gave the nipples another pull.  "Or, option two with the clamps, I can use a pair of taut, wet, rawhide thongs stretching up to a pair of the rings in the ceiling joists.  As they dry..."  Alice squirmed as Sydney gave the nipples a third tug.  "And finally, there's that candelabra Cody came up with, the one with the clockwork mechanism that makes it wiggle and shake at random intervals, causing it to shower droplets of hot wax on whoever happens to be a bound prisoner below."  She slowly, gently rolled the nipples.  "Decisions, decisions..."

"Mmmpfh!"  Jillian stamped a foot and sent a disapproving gaze in her sister's direction.

Sydney leaned close and kissed Alice's forehead.  "Later," she purred, then turned to Jillian.  "Not the sort of thing you normally allow at Foxwood, is it, Jillie?  Not unless Alice has earned herself punishment with yet another of her rule infractions, of course.  Not while you're in charge."  She strolled to Hannah and Jillian, released the rope tether, and led them towards the door.  "But you aren't in charge, not at the moment.  Are you, dear sister?"

Jillian looked back over her shoulder at Alice.  Confusion was on both their gagged faces.  Hannah simply stared straight ahead, at her captor's back (and the twin bulges of her firm, leather-clad buttocks).

"Later, twerp," Sydney chuckled, pulling the torture chamber's door closed.

Alice heard the thunk of the bolt being thrown and watched the lever on the inside slide in its slot.  She waited for the sound of the lock being turned... but it never came.  Not that it matters, she sighed.  She knew she wouldn't be going anywhere near the door, not until she was released from the table. 

Where is Syd taking them?  And what's she gonna do?  She's really pushing her luck, this time, by messing with Jillie-bean.  And what a bitch for not including me in.  The least she could do is drag me along so I could watch.

The naked prisoner willed herself to relax... and to wait... and to not think about what the bitch in question might do to her helpless, naked body when she did return.

As they made their way up the stairs to the main Keep, Hannah looked back over her shoulder at her fellow prisoner.  Jillian gazed back with what Hannah interpreted as calm tolerance.  She was "letting" her kid sister have her fun, and wasn't ready to draw the line.

Well, Hannah decided, Her Ladyship may be willing to wait, with Job-like patience, not knowing what lies ahead...  But at some point I'm supposed to stop being a tied-up Evil Minion and start being an untied Heroic Rebel.  She decided to voice a complaint—"M'mmrfh!"—and was ignored.  "M'MMrfh."  She was still ignored.

By this time, they had reached a side door and were leaving the Keep.

Hannah squirmed in her bonds and stamped her feet.  "M'mmpfh!"

"Settle down, Saxon," Sydney ordered.

Hannah sighed through her gag and trudged in her captor's wake.  Jillian was still content to be her sister's prisoner.  In any case, Her Ladyship was keeping pace.  There was no pressure on Hannah's neck tether from either front or back.  They crossed the bridge and stream... the meadow beyond... then continued down the hill to the Inner Gate.

The lantern dangling above the portal glowed with a warm, amber light, signaling the official sanction of "special activities".  Of course, as the gate marked the border of Foxwood's fantasy realm, dragging the Lady of the Keep and/or her Captured Minion into the modern world beyond was strictly forbidden.

Sydney swung open the gate and held it so her captives could pass through.  Hannah dutifully shuffled between the gateposts, then her leash snapped taut.  Jillian had finally put her foot down—both feet, literally.

Staring evenly at her sister, Her Ladyship shook her gagged head.

Sydney smiled and stepped back across the threshold, letting her body block the closing gate.  She took hold of the rope lead between the two prisoners and pulled Jillian forward.  "Silly Rabbit," she scolded, "you're not in charge."  Shifting her grip to the ropes of Jillian's box-tie, between her breasts, she dragged her through the gate and towards the Outer Mews.

The dignified disapproval on Jillian's gagged face made her position on the matter quite clear, but she resumed her cooperative pace.  Hannah followed in their wake.

They rounded the side of the Outer Mews, and the eyes of both captives popped wide with surprise.  "M'mmmrfh?" they said, more or less in unison.

The motorized gate in the chain-link fence separating the Outer Mews from the turnaround beyond was standing open, and parked in the center of the gravel expanse was a very unusual vehicle.  It could best be described as a cross between a horseless carriage and a two-ton military truck.  It had a cab-forward design with a flat, vertical windscreen and an enclosed cargo area.  The boxy frame had no curves, no concession to streamlining.

Its front wheels were over-sized in comparison to normal vehicles of the same scale, and the rather thin tires were mounted on spoked hubs.  The rear wheels were smaller and more conventional, but they were paired, giving the vehicle a total of six.  The rear hubs were also spoked, but the spokes were thicker and heavier that those on the front.

Finally, it was painted black with a delicate filigree of metallic gold tracing the edge of its angular plates.  The overall effect was somewhat Victorian, enhanced by what was apparently a smokestack mounted behind the cab on the driver's side.  It had an ornate cap and was a scaled-down version of the sort of thing one would expect to see on an old steam locomotive.

There was one glaring concession to normality: a California vehicle license plate in an ornate frame was mounted on the front bumper.

Standing in front of the vehicle were two women.  Both were covered head-to-toe in skintight leather, including their heads—laced knee-boots, catsuits, gloves, and aviator helmets with silvered goggles and face-masks.  The style was late 19th or early 20th Century, and while their identities were hidden, their very feminine curves were not.  Both had rather exotic pistols holstered on their right hips, and one held a bizarre looking... blunderbuss?  Whatever it was, the long-gun had an elaborate carved stock and its wide barrel ended in the shape of a bell.

"Very Jules Verne," Sydney chuckled as she led her captives forward.

The leather-clad, masked women remained as silent and motionless as statues.

"Not in the mood for chitchat, eh?" Sydney asked.  "Just as well."  She presented the end of the captives' coffle-rope.  "Here they are, as promised."

"M'mmrfh?"  It was another simultaneous "inquiry" from Jillian and Hannah.

The leather drone without the blunderbuss took the rope and began leading the prisoners towards the back of the strange truck.

"Wait," Sydney said, stepped forward, and kissed Hannah on the cheek.  "I love you," she said in a hoarse whisper, then turned and walked back towards the open gate.

"M'MMRFH!!"  Both captives were struggling and mewling through their gags.

Her back turned, Sydney failed to notice the drone with the blunderbuss lifting her weapon and taking aim.

With a loud report, the blunderbuss fired—"BLAM!"—and a cloud of white smoke erupted from the bell.  As it cleared, the struggling, cursing form of Sydney Foxwood was revealed, rolling on the gravel, trapped in the tight folds of a net.

"What the hell do you think you're—M'mmmpfh!"  The second drone had slung her weapon, surged forward, and was holding a white pad over Sydney's net-shrouded face.  "Nrrrrf!"  Seconds passed... then Sydney's struggles ceased and her eyes rolled up in her head.

Hannah and Jillian were still being dragged towards the truck, mewling and contesting every step.

Some hours later, after dark...

---

Kayley parked in her usual place.  She noticed that Connie's slot was still empty, as expected.  She assumed the Scholar and the Elf were still in San Francisco, as planned.  Also, Hannah's upstairs apartment was dark.  This wasn't unusual.  The Resident Master Artisan/Saxon Thrall often spent her evenings in the Keep, retiring to her bed on the second floor of the Outer Mews only after the others drifted off to their own beds in the Residents' Wing—assuming the blond beauty wasn't destined to spend the night tied to Sydney's bed, of course.

Lady Foxwood's Master Cook and Gardener went to the changing room and donned her Prosperous Peasant costume, then transferred the plants she'd purchased at the nursery to a wicker basket for their trip to the Keep's greenhouse.  The bulk of her nursery order would be delivered tomorrow, by truck.

Mentally reviewing her planting plan for the impending arrivals, Mistress Kayley exited the Outer Mews and headed for the Keep.  As she climbed the hill, the amber lantern of the Inner Gate came into view.  Kayley grinned.  That's right, it's a 'play night'.  Hannah might wind up in anybody's bed.  I wonder if Jillian would like to—

She dropped the basket and rushed forward.

Hanging from the same crossbeam as the lantern was a net, and inside the net was a writhing, wiggling form.

The light from the lantern was sufficient to reveal the ball-tied and well-gagged body of Sydney Foxwood—a very angry Sydney Foxwood.  She was dressed in one of her Evil Baroness costumes, hunched forward in a fetal tuck with her chin resting on her knees.  Rope—and it was a braided synthetic dyed antique-gold that was not Foxwood standard—bound the redhead's wrists behind her back, lashed her arms to her sides, her ankles and knees together, and was wrapped and cinched around her leather-clad body.  A wad of linen was stuffed in her mouth and a cleave-gag held it in place.  She glared at Kayley.  "M'mmmprfh!"

Kayley smiled and shook her head—then her smile faded.  There was something in Sydney's eyes, something beyond the expected angry desire to be set free: fatigue.  She's been here a while.  Kayley's instincts told her this was not an example of the usual Foxwood Follies.  Special Activities often spilled beyond the Keep and into the forest, but all the way to the Inner Gate?  Never!  Jillian would have words for whoever had perpetrated this dastardly deed—words, and possibly several whacks on the rump.

Kayley went for the knot tied to one of the gateposts, to release the rope suspending the net and lower Sydney to the ground.  She paused.  There was a translucent, glassine envelope tucked between the loops of the knot.  Kayley pulled it free and opened its flap.  Inside was another envelope, this one of expensive, cream-colored parchment.  Inked on its surface, in flowing script, she read:

Mistress Kayley Barbano
~Please Read Immediately ~

Kayley flipped over the envelope to break the seal—and froze.  Written on the flap, in the same elegant hand, was a name from Kayley's past, a name she hadn't thought about for many years.