|TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B
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in HHH:THE MOTION PICTURE,
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Hannah had just
about convinced herself she'd made a mistake. Her
prospective employer's instructions seemed straightforward
enough: take 101 up the coast from Arcata, turn east onto
Westhaven Drive North (after "downtown" Westhaven, but before
Trinidad), and look for the sign on the right. She'd
followed each step with precision, which left only one
problem—she was in the middle of nowhere!
Granted, it was all pretty enough, with redwoods and cedars,
rhodies, ferns, etc.; but how could you make a go of a B&B
this far from... anything? Maybe it could work as a base
for day trips, or if there were hiking trails that led to the
back end of Redwood National Park or further up into the Coastal
Range. Still—a place this hard to find?
And talk about isolated.
Of course, Hannah knew the Foxwood B&B wasn't your normal B&B. She
still wasn't sure exactly what a "Creatively Anachronistic
B&B" was all about—something like people dressing in
costumes and pretending to be guests in a medieval inn, with
non-historically correct indoor plumbing and central heating, of
course. And... if what she'd been told was true (and she
already knew it was), a lot more went on at Foxwood than
swanning around in medieval drag. Well, she'd learn
the full details soon enough, and
decide if it was a place where she wanted to work.
It was a hot day... as hot as it got this close to the coast,
anyway. She had the windows of "Tigger", her 2001 F10
pickup, rolled all the way down. The breeze was tossing
her long, blond hair around, but it felt good. Just then, she
saw the sign, "FOXWOOD BED & BREAKFAST", with
its woodcut logo image of a fox under a setting sun. An
arrow pointed up a narrow, improved road. The distance was
superimposed: "4¾ MILES".
at least I'm not lost, Hannah acknowledged, and dropped
the driving instructions on the passenger's seat. She
turned onto the road and started up the side of a thickly wooded
hill. After a gentle switchback, the road continued to
climb for some distance, then leveled out and entered a deep
valley. Mature conifers loomed on all sides and the sky
all but disappeared. Finally, as the trip-meter ticked
past the promised four-point-seven miles, the road broadened
into a generous turn-around. A twelve-foot chain-link
fence stretched across the far end and on into the forest on
either side, and at regular intervals there were "NO
TRESPASSING" signs bearing the Foxwood logo.
Centered on the
fence was a large, motorized gate, and beyond the gate was a
large, three-story building... a timber frame structure clad with
siding of weathered cedar and with a roof of dark, reddish-brown
tiles. A series of doors along the ground floor made it
less a barn and more the carriage house of a rustic
estate. It was elegant in proportions but simple in form,
and no element of its design pigeonholed it into any particular
national or historical style. The structure might have
been at home anywhere from Japan to Russia to Ireland, and from
any period within the last several centuries. The only
truly unusual feature was the rectangular skylight that ran most
of the length and breadth of the south-facing roof—then she
realized she was looking at a photo-voltaic array. In any
case, to Hannah's trained eye, the building was in excellent
repair, as far as she could tell from a
There was a call box mounted on an elegantly carved post, near
the gate. The post also had a sign reading "GUESTS ARE BY
RESERVATION ONLY". Hannah wasn't worried, though, as she
was expected, and shouldn't have long to wait. Confirming
her optimism, the chain link gate rattled, its chain drive gave
a shake, and the gate began to open. At the same time, one
of the "carriage doors" opened and a woman appeared.
She was a redhead, in her fifties (perhaps), and was very beautiful—slender and
athletic, with a fair, freckled complexion, and green
eyes. She was dressed in an emerald-green gown with long,
drooping sleeves and a laced bodice. Rust-brown leather
boots were on her feet.
"Hannah Blair?" she inquired, smiling and extending her hand as
Hannah climbed down from the cab. "Jillian Foxwood."
Hannah closed the truck's door and shook the proffered
hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replied, smiling
back. Jillian Foxwood was stunning, and her long,
copper-red hair reminded Hannah of her last boss.
Jillian was giving Hannah the once over, as well. "Hmm,
you'll do quite nicely," she purred.
Hannah cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Jillian laughed. "No, excuse me. I didn't mean to be rude, but I like
all resident employees to... shall we say... complement the Foxwood
ambiance." She eyed Hannah's form, from her work boots, to
her jeans, to her chambray work shirt. "That gorgeous
blond hair and pretty blue eyes, tan
skin, and trim, athletic figure... The very picture of a Saxon
or Danish maiden. Once we find you the appropriate
costumes, you'll not just blend in, you'll enhance our little
Hannah smiled at the compliment. Had the remarks come from
almost any other stranger, she might have bristled at the
personal observations, but Jillian's friendly, open manner was
quite disarming. "Uh, okay, but... costumes?" Hannah
ventured, indicating her prospective boss' magnificent
gown. "I can hardly get any real work done dressed in
something like that."
Jillian nodded in agreement. "I was thinking more along
the lines of boots, leather breeches or kilt, and a tunic or
jerkin," she suggested. "We'll find you something, and
once you settle into a role, we'll order several custom-made
outfits, for all occasions and seasons." She gestured
towards the building. "Pull your truck into one of the
parking bays and we can talk. Coffee or tea?"
"Uh... coffee," Hannah responded, "thanks."
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
into the building and parked Tigger beside what appeared to be
three sedans, all shrouded by cloth covers. Jillian
thumbed a switch that closed the chain-link gate, then led
Hannah up a set of wooden stairs to a loft above the
garage. Beyond a solid door was a comfortably appointed
lounge and dining area, with a bank of windows offering a
magnificent view of the forest. Jillian began brewing a
pot of coffee at a modern kitchenette. "Have a seat," she
suggested, indicating a table and chairs near the windows.
Hannah pulled out a chair and sat. "Nice place," she said,
with full sincerity. There was an Arts & Crafts, Green
& Green feel to the interior. Everything looked
hand-built, with an emphasis on the practical. Even
the modern appliances were understated and chosen to complement
the use of natural materials.
"Thank you," Jillian responded, "but wait 'til you see the
main buildings. I've been blessed with many talented
family and friends, and they've all poured their hearts into
Foxwood." She carried a stoneware coffee service on a
hardwood tray to the table, and sat. "Cream and sugar?"
"Black." Hannah accepted a cup and saucer (more a mug and saucer, actually,
with a delicate olive and brown glaze), and took a sip.
Hannah nodded towards the kitchenette. "I can tell a lot
of careful effort went into the finish work. The way the
switch plates are recessed and trimmed is very clever. All
"Almost everything is custom," Jillian confirmed, "or modified
stock items. In the main buildings, as well. Most of
the work was done right here, in the shop below." She
sipped her coffee. "You can see why I need a resident
Hannah smiled. "Resident
artisan... I like that."
Jillian smiled back. "Yes, 'Artisan' has an
appropriately anachronistic ring. How is Lady Lydia?"
Hannah blushed (much to her
chagrin). "Uh... she's fine." What am I embarrassed about?
she scolded herself.
"She e-mailed me photos of the work you did in her dungeon,"
Jillian continued. "A little... modern, for my tastes, but very elegant.
The best 'finished basement' I've
ever seen; and you carried it off under budget and on
schedule. I especially
like the secret panels. I look forward to an actual
tour the next time I'm up that way."
Hannah's blush deepened. "Uh... thanks."
Jillian's smile turned rather coy. "You realize Foxwood
entertains guests with similar interests?"
Hannah nodded. "With a medieval twist. Lydia
explained... without going into specifics."
"Not all our guests
come here for 'special role-playing', of course," Jillian
continued. "In fact, they're a decided minority.
Most of our visitors come to enjoy the Medieval/Fantasy
ambiance, and for the hiking, scenery, fine food, and
music. Our 'Yule Festival' is booked months in advance."
Hannah frowned. "How do you keep things... uh...
Jillian's smile broadened. "We manage. Which brings
us to... the rules."
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
their cups. "First and foremost, I'm in charge. I
value everyone's opinion, and you'll find we often hold
discussions before making important decisions, but my vote is the
tie-breaker, and I reserve the right of veto."
"Understood," Hannah responded. Jillian had a strong
personality (and loads of
but she didn't come across as a tyrant. A ship has one
captain, and a job-site has one boss. Jillian
was in charge. Fair enough.
"Rule two," Jillian continued. "No one passes the inner
gate out of costume. You'll see what I mean when I take
you up to the main compound. But don't worry—there's a
changing room below with some generic costumes. The only
exceptions allowed are outside deliveries of bulky items,
building materials, etc. Mail is delivered to this
building. We call it the
'Outer Mews', by the way. It's our outpost in 21st
Century America. Your apartment and the main workshop
are here. This is part of your
apartment, in fact," she explained, indicating their immediate
surroundings. "I'll show you the rest, next."
"Rule three: In the presence of guests, your role is part
of your costume." Jillian sipped her coffee. "You're
expected to do your best to stay in character. You'll find
it gets easier, with time; and don't worry, we're careful, but
not fanatical—except in the presence of
Hannah nodded, again.
Jillian's smile turned slightly coy. "Rule four:
Everyone is expected to participate in the entertainment of our
'special guests'. Lydia tells me you have no problem with
that sort of thing."
Hannah's blush returned, but only slightly. "Uh, what
exactly... I mean..."
"Top and bottom-type
roles," Jillian explained. "You won't be expected to
take a lead in anything, at least until you feel comfortable—and, more
importantly—until I feel comfortable with you. Foxwood's
reputation and the welfare and continued patronage of our guests
are my greatest concerns."
"And speaking of comfort... Rule four explicitly implies that everyone will
in our 'special' repertoire. You can't truly appreciate the
guests' perspective without direct experience."
Hannah nodded (a little nervously). She'd had a little
"bottom time" at the hands of Lady Lydia, while "testing" her
new basement dungeon; but she knew that nothing the red-haired
dom did to her was near as
wild as the things she
did to her real clients.
had assured her she'd fit in "just fine" at Foxwood... but that
didn't mean she couldn't be just a little (deliciously)
Jillian smiled and set down her cup. "Ready to see more?"
Hannah took a final sip, then nodded again.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
bedroom and bath were as elegant and well-appointed as the
lounge/kitchenette area, and the shop was large, airy, well-laid
out, and fully equipped. Most of the power tool stations
were a little antiquated, but all were top-of-the-line and in
excellent condition (as far as Hannah could tell without
actually putting everything to use).
"We can move your things into the apartment later," Jillian
said, as she led Hannah through a door off the garage.
"This is the changing room." It was more or less a large
walk-in closet, with a line of curtained alcoves and a bank of
tall lockers. "You'll keep your regular costumes up in
your apartment, of course," Jillian explained as she opened a
locker, "but for now..."
Hannah accepted what appeared to be a modest stack of neatly
folded burlap, with a pair of leather sandals and a coil of hemp
rope on top.
"That's a loincloth, tunic, sandals, and belt," Jillian
Jillian smiled. "A thrall's costume. It should be
sufficient for your first tour of the compound. Don't
worry, the fabric's conditioned. It looks rough, but
you'll find it to be comfortable."
Hannah frowned. "Thrall... Oh, you mean slave! I'm to be a
Jillian smiled. "Consider it rule five: Everyone
starts at the bottom." She placed a hand on Hannah's
arm. "You aren't frightened... are you?" There was
nothing teasing or even remotely sinister about her manner; but
rather, her raised brows and green eyes signaled sincere,
somewhat maternal concern.
Hannah's smile returned. It was easy to trust this
woman. Well... what can
happen? Lydia knows I'm here. Hannah's
smile faded, as she remembered the hour she'd spent in the
secret, sound-proof "isolation cell" she'd built for Lady
Lydia. Naked, a ball-gag strapped and padlocked in her
mouth, her wrists chained to the wall with padded leather
cuffs... it had been a very long
hour. Yeah, what can
Jillian sensed her apprehension. "I won't force you to do
anything," she said, "but you will
have to experience being a thrall at some point... if
you're going to take the job."
Hannah mustered her courage. "Okay. No time like the
Jillian's smile broadened, and she leaned forward and kissed
Hannah's cheek. "Brave girl!"
(A thrill rippled up
Hannah's spine). Yes, Jillian Foxwood was easy to trust;
and her charisma and charm were... enthralling. Hannah
turned her face away, suppressing a laugh. 'Enthralling', she
shaking her head. I'm
such a comedian. "I'll be quick," she promised,
and headed for the nearest changing alcove.
"I'll be waiting to help you with the rest of your costume," Jillian announced, as
Hannah closed the alcove's curtain.
"Okay, thanks." Hannah sat on the alcove's built-in bench
and started unlacing her boots. The rest of my costume? she wondered.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
to the skin, then began sorting out her thrall's costume.
The "loincloth" was like a ragged bikini bottom. She
tied its ribbon-like strings above her hips, and was relieved to
find what Jillian had said about the fabric was true. The
burlap, if it was burlap,
was as comfortable as cashmere. She slipped the long
"tunic" over her head and smoothed it down her body. It
was a sleeveless shift, with rather narrow shoulder straps, deep
arm openings, and a slit down the front that plunged between her
breasts and halfway to her navel. The lower hem came to
just below her knees, and while the bodice was a bit tight, the
lower half was rather loose, thanks to generous slits on either
side. A thin lace of burlap ribbon criss-crossed her
cleavage, holding the décolletage closed—sort of—and a pair of similar
laces served the same function for the top part of the slits
over her hips and thighs.
The newly costumed "thrall" admired herself in the alcove's
full-length mirror. The tunic was well-made. Close
inspection of the inside seams revealed machine work reinforced
and camouflaged by rough, slightly uneven hand stitchery, done
with burlap thread. The overall appearance was slightly
ragged, but without the garment being a rag. It was clean,
but patches of repaired "damage" and faded stains told a story
of hard wear. Its "rough", homespun and hand sewn
appearance fit the role of "thrall"... perfectly. Hannah
tightened the laces over her hips and tied neat bows, then
frowned. The front was a bit of a problem. If
she tightened the lace until the sides of the slit met, the arm
openings pinched in to reveal nearly
as much boob as if she had left it completely
slack. She found a compromise level of tautness. She
was showing significant cleavage,
but when she rolled her shoulders and twisted at the waist, the
arrangement preserved her modesty... more or less.
Hannah tied the sandals on her feet. Their thong laces
criss-crossed her ankles, shins, and calves, nearly to her
knees. She wrapped the rope around her waist, twice, and
tied a loose square knot in the front. The free ends of
the "belt" dangled nearly to the tunic's hem. She faced
the mirror, again, and did a slow pirouette. Apparently,
Foxwood thralls were expected to present a rather sexy appearance.
She had to admit (with the proper humility, of course) that she
filled out the costume quite
nicely. She smiled, folded and arranged her former costume in a neat
stack, placed her boots on top, with her socks stuffed in the
tops, then pulled back the curtain.
Jillian was waiting, as promised. Her smile broadened, and
she gasped in appreciation. "Oh, Hannah! You look
perfect!" she gushed. "The very picture of a captured
Hannah smiled back, then she noticed what Jillian was carrying
in her left hand, and her eyes popped wide.
Jillian noticed Hannah's expression, and handed her burden to
Hannah, for her examination.
It was an iron collar, with a dark, nickel finish. It
looked heavy, but weighed significantly less than a pound.
An iron ring about an inch-and-a-half in diameter dangled from a
twisted, knot-like arrangement in the front that also acted as a
hinge. The collar closed on a similar snarl of iron loops
in the back. Hannah opened the torus of metal and
realized the hinge and clasp "knots" interlocked with very close
tolerances.. She nodded in appreciation. Closed,
they looked authentically hand-forged, but she could tell the
device had actually been machined, using modern tools. The
interior was smooth and polished, including the edges.
"Nice work," Hannah said.
Jillian smiled and showed her a second, much smaller piece of
ironwork. It was a "U"-shaped shackle, roughly the size of
the ring on the front of the collar. A cylinder joined the
two top ends, and a pin with a crescent-shaped cap pierced the
cylinder. "This is the locking mechanism," Jillian
explained. "The top pin slides through the collar's back
clasp and is inserted in the shackle. Then, a
spring-loaded tool is screwed in the hole in the end of the
cylinder, and it locks."
"Oh, like one of those antique screw-key padlocks," Hannah said.
"Exactly," Jillian confirmed. "You certainly know your
hardware, Hannah. Anyway, most of our 'thrall accessories'
are like this. Having things open with one key is much
more convenient than lugging around a key ring. We reserve
the use of those wonderful, elaborate skeleton keys for our
dungeons and cages."
'Thrall accessories'? 'Dungeons and cages'?
Jillian took the collar from Hannah's hands. "Hold up your
hair for me, would you please?"
Hannah swallowed, again. "Uh... the collar's for me?" She blinked, and
realized she was staring at Jillian with what had to be an expression of
stark surprise. Get a
grip, Hannah! she chided herself, and lowered her
gaze. "Sorry," she said, quietly. "I knew that...
honestly." She gathered her blond locks, gave them a
twist, and held them atop her head.
Jillian laughed, then leaned forward and gave Jillian a quick,
light kiss on the forehead. "I promise, you have nothing
to fear. I know you're nervous... but it's that nice sort of nervousness,
Hannah's lips curled in a rather chagrined smile. "You
Jillian laughed again, and stepped behind her new
employee. "That's the spirit!"
Hannah stared straight ahead, focusing on the row of wooden
lockers. The collar closed around her throat... there was
a click... a second click... then a quick, ratcheting turn...
and Jillian stepped back into her field of vision.
"How does it feel?" the smiling redhead asked.
Hannah let her hair fall, then gave her head a shake to settle
her long, blond locks. "A little heavy, but not too
bad." She swallowed, and took a deep breath. "Tight,
but not too tight. It'll take some getting used to."
Jillian's smile broadened. "You're taking this well.
Let's move on to the final step, then we can start the tour of
Hannah's hands were examining her new accessory. "Final
Jillian opened a locker and withdrew a coil of leather
strapping. The brown, smooth, ribbon-like thong was wider
than a boot lace, but narrower than a belt or saddle
strap. "Newly purchased thralls arrive at Foxwood under complete control,"
the grinning redhead explained.
"Oh!" Hannah explained, no longer able to conceal her
nervousness ("nice" or otherwise).
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
have much experience with bondage?" Jillian inquired.
"Huh?" Hannah gave herself a mental kick. She was
staring, again. "Oh, I mean, no... other than the things
Lydia showed me... and childhood games."
"Are you very good at wiggling out of restraints?"
Despite her nervousness, Hannah laughed. "I'm terrible. But then,
Lydia's the best... or so I hear."
"Let's just say she's among the
Jillian purred. "Hands behind the back, please."
Hannah swallowed, again. "Er..."
Jillian smiled. "I'm sorry, Hannah. Is this going
too fast? Lydia said you were the adventurous type, and
from what I've seen so far..." She gave Hannah's
thrall-costumed form a teasing, lingering gaze, from her
sandaled feet to her tousled blond hair. "...you don't
seem especially timid."
Hannah smiled. "Fast can be good... and I trust
you." Hannah wasn't sure exactly why she said that, but it
was true. She did trust
Jillian Foxwood, even though they'd just met. Suddenly,
her nervousness vanished (more or less). She spun on her
heel and crossed her wrists at the small of her back.
"Perfect," Jillian stepped forward and set to work. With
deft, practiced moves, she pulled loops of thong around Hannah's
wrists, criss-crossing and cinching the subtle, soft leather as
she bound her new employee. "Now, the handling of captives
won't be one of your primary
Jillian said, as she tied the final knots, "but you will need to
learn how we do things around here—bondage-wise. For
example, with leather, it's important to make sure the thong
lays flat against the skin, and it's best not to use a square
knot or a half-hitch, but a Western or saddle-cinch.
Personally, I like a variation I call the Foxwood double-cinch.
I anchor the free end through a cross-binding and make the first
cinch loose, take an additional turn around the crossed wrists,
tie a second cinch,
threading the free end through
first cinch, pull out the excess and tighten the first cinch,
then tighten the second. Done properly, it's nearly
impossible to untie... especially
for the one with the bound wrists... and, it's neat and pretty."
Hannah flexed her fingers and attempted to rotate her
wrists. She couldn't move them from the crossed position,
at all... and only her little fingers could touch... just
barely. She knew she wouldn't have been able to free
herself even if Jillian had tied off the thong with a loose bow.
There was still a remainder of about two feet of thong.
Jillian threaded it through the staple in the back of Hannah's
collar, took in the slack, and tied a saddle-cinch, a simple
one, this time. "There," she said, took Hannah by the
shoulders, and gently turned her around. "All
finished." She smiled warmly, put her hands on Hannah's
waist, leaned close, and kissed her lips. "Such a brave
girl," she whispered. "I'm flattered beyond words that you
trust me so." She untied the lace of Hannah's décolletage,
pulled out about an inch of slack, and retied the bow.
Hannah's breasts were now more or less unrestrained by the
fabric of the tunic. Her modesty was intact, but she was showing more
skin. "That's better," Jillian said, and made similar
adjustments to the laces over Hannah's thighs. Standing
with her feet apart, the tunic's skirt now had a slightly
narrower drape, exposing Hannah's thighs nearly to the
hip. Jillian took a step back and reached into an open
Hannah's heart was pounding, but not with fear. That
thrill she'd felt earlier was back (but this time it seemed to
be equally divided between her spine... and sex). Hannah
tugged on her bound wrists, and took a deep breath. The
funny thing was... Hannah knew she wasn't really what you would call
submissive. She'd let Lydia use her to test her new
dungeon, but that had been part of the job... business... at
least that was what she kept telling herself. Okay, it had
been fun, but nothing she'd like as a steady diet.
But... here I am, again,
she mused. This is
crazy! Allowing myself to be tied up? What am I
But Hannah already knew what
was thinking. This was going to be an adventure! She wasn't
in control, but she wasn't in danger, of that she was
sure. Even if she decided to not take the job (which
seemed increasingly unlikely)... this was going to be the
experience of a lifetime.
Meanwhile, Jillian had produced a coil of hemp rope. She
threaded one end through the ring in the front of Hannah's
collar, and tied a neatly compacted knot. "Ready?" she
asked, with a smile.
"Uh, for the tour?"
Jillian's smile turned teasingly coy. "What else did you
think I meant?"
Hannah's lips curled in a sheepish grin, and a hint of a blush
colored her cheeks. "Oh, nothing. I'm ready."
Jillian took in the slack on the rope, turned, and led Hannah
towards the changing room door.
|| Tales of the Foxwood B&B: HHH
the "Outer Mews" through a side door and the Mistress of Foxwood
led her new thrall onto a flagstone path. "The gateway is
just ahead," Jillian explained, "around the first bend."
Mature conifers loomed on all sides, and the ground was carpeted
in loose litter punctuated by clumps of fern and other
shade-loving plants. It was dark, but not gloomy.
Moss and the pale green lichen called "Old Man's Beard" shrouded
much of the trees' lower branches.
"There's a service road the other side of that draw," Jillian
said, pointing to the right. "That's how we handle the
deliveries I mentioned earlier; but most of our guests arrive
via the Forest Path."
They rounded a dense clump of rhododendrons and approached a
waist-high, wooden gate set between two tall posts. It
punctuated a low wall of mossy boulders, more-or-less
perpendicular to the path. After only a
few yards, the walls became linear jumbles of loose rocks; and
several yards further, they faded into the ground,
altogether. Hanging from a crossbeam between
the posts, far overhead, was an antique lantern. It was a
beautiful design, blown glass in a hand-forged, iron cage.
It shone with an amber light, visible even in full daylight.
"We recently renovated that thing," Jillian said, indicating the
lantern. "I had it rewired with LED bulbs. Amber
means something 'special' is going on, and I mean special in the
sense that Lydia's basement is special."
Hannah smiled. "I get it."
"When it glows green, that means 'nothing special
allowed'. Regular guests are in residence."
"That keeping-things-discreet question I asked earlier," Hannah
Jillian nodded. "We also have a flag that flies from the
tower of the main building. If it has a rust background,
that means 'special'; and a green background means 'regular'."
The gate, itself, was a work of art, an excellent plan executed
by a master carpenter. A chain and counterweight kept it
closed, and hand-forged iron straps and hinges, bent in
decorative, leaf-and-vine patterns, reinforced the joints and
encircled the hinge-side post. Jillian grasped the handle
and pulled. The well-oiled hinges and the chain's pulley
were nearly silent as the gate swung open.
Jillian paused, and gazed into Hannah's blue eyes. "Not to
be overly dramatic," she said, quietly, "although our guests
expect some degree of
drama—but beyond this gate is the Realm
of Foxwood, a world where fairies play tag with the hummingbirds—elves, dwarves,
and witches drop by the common room for wine, mead, and a fine
meal—and the cloaked stranger in the
corner might be a sell-sword, an outlaw, a wizard, or even a
dragon in human form." Her smile broadened, and she
winked. "Are you ready to play?"
Hannah couldn't help but smile back. Corny? Yes, but this will be fun...
flexed her bound wrists and swallowed, very much aware of the
iron collar locked around her throat. ...all kinds of fun.
Jillian stepped forward, gently pulling in the slack of Hannah's
rope leash—and the newly-captured thrall
followed her new mistress through the gate.
Tales of the
HELPFUL HARDWARE HANNAH