by Van ©2013
Last night, after Mistress made Corky cum—and it had been REALLY
GOOD, quite possibly the best orgasm of her life—Mistress had
untied her exhausted, aching body. The last of the cords
melted away and—her naked, shining, peachy-pink, freckled body
crisscrossed with rope-marks—Corky cuddled with her beautiful
Mistress. The question of her impending punishment for the
disobedient, inexcusable act of cumming without permission
(while Mistress was repeatedly sliding a buzzing torpedo
vibrator set on high in and out of her flushed and
well-lubricated pussy) hung over Corky's head like the
proverbial sword of Damocles.
Colossally unfair? Duh! It was like being sentenced
to punishment for the crime of willfully occupying three
dimensions of space without a license.
But for the moment... Mistress was strong and warm in Corky's
embrace, her perfume was wonderful, and Mistress was returning
her embrace. For now, everything was perfect, and Corky
could rest. They both drifted off to sleep, still in each
Morning arrived, Corky opened her eyes, and found herself alone
in the bed, still naked and unbound. She yawned,
stretched, and threw back the covers. Her rope-marks had
faded to almost nothing, a tribute to Mistress' unquestionable brilliance
as a rigger. The bondage Corky endured had been very
stringent, and yet, her skin wasn't covered in rope-burns and/or
bruises, not anyplace she could see, anyway. Corky was
still sore and tired, but she had to admit she was somewhat
Where Mistress Cressida had gone, Corky hadn't a clue. The
bedroom had an attached loo and shower, but its door was ajar
and all was quiet. Corky was alone... but not for long.
The bedroom door opened and one of the senior maids, Ulfa,
entered, and there was no mistaking Ulfa. A native of
Iceland, Ulfa's blond, fair-skinned beauty was somewhat
distinctive, but then, all of Her Ladyship's maids were
beauties. It was a job requirement. What really set
the blond apart were her stature and build. It was
difficult to gauge Ulfa's exact height, given the varying height
of the Castle's doorways and ceilings, and especially because of
the high heels that were a part of her uniform, but the general
consensus among the junior maids was that Ulfa was about 6' 2"
(1.83 m). And in terms of physique, her junior maid
nickname (her secret junior maid nickname) was "Frost
Giant." Ulfa wasn't exactly a bodybuilder, but if so
ordered she could probably handle any two of the junior maids at
once without help and without breaking a sweat. It was
very easy to imagine Ulfa striding towards the dungeons with a
kicking and struggling junior maid under each arm. That
said, in Corky's opinion Ulfa was very nice, like all
the staff. Beautiful and strong, Ulfa was a blond
warrior-princess, a very tall, very blond warrior-princess—in a
And oh-by-the-way, Ulfa filled out her uniform as much like a
Vegas showgirl as a female wrestler.
"Uh, good morning," Corky mumbled, and it was morning,
something like eight o'clock by the angle of the sunlight
shining through the bedroom window.
"Good morning, Corky," Ulfa answered. "I am to take you
below." She strode to the bed and lifted Corky into her
"Eeek!" Corky was startled, not alarmed. "I can
walk," she objected.
Cradling Corky's naked, petite body as if she were a child, Ulfa
departed the bedroom. "You aren't heavy," the smiling
Corky put her arms around Ulfa's neck. Ulfa's arms were
supporting her knees and back. They descended the back
stairs, dropping story after story until they reached the first
basement level. Corky was relieved that they didn't
continue to the sub-levels, and even more relieved when
she was carried into the "Maid's Spa," the showers, soaking
tubs, and massage tables the staff used to recuperate from the
trials and tribulations of service at Tydwell Castle.
A gaggle of junior and senior maids were waiting, some naked and
some in uniform, and Corky was the instant center of
attention. Her fellow domestics giggled and demanded she
tell them everything, and she did. Blushing and
smiling, Corky told the tale of how Mistress Cressida had
grabbed her, stripped her naked, and placed her in a punishing
hogtie. She also related the other events of the
evening, like Mistress hand-feeding her delicious little
sandwiches, using a pussy-rocket to make her cum, and then
cuddling with her until dawn.
"Oooooo!" "Ahhhhh!" Corky's saga was
an instant hit.
While she talked, Corky received a thorough and gentle
sponge-bath followed by an equally thorough and gentle full-body
massage. The giggling and sighing continued, as did
whispered conversations Corky strongly suspected were
speculation about her looming punishment, but she didn't let it
spoil the moment. Corky basked in the attention and
enjoyed a delicious breakfast, hand fed by her fellow
maids. Everyone was being very nice, and Corky was
touched. There had to be some degree of jealousy
that the most junior of the junior maids had been singled out
for entertainment (erotic torture) by Her Ladyship's daughter,
but zero resentment was on display. The castle
staff really were a remarkably amiable bunch.
Flat on her stomach on the massage table, her arms folded and
her chin resting on her hands, a happy (goofy) smile curling her
coral lips, Corky fought the urge to purr like a ginger kitten
as Ulfa's strong hands kneaded her shoulder and back
muscles. The back massage continued... Nice...
Then, Corky realized a pair of maids had gently pulled her hands
free and stretched her arms to either side. She assumed
they were going to massage her biceps and triceps, but she was
wrong. "Hey!" Corky's eyes popped wide. Click,
click. The maids had snapped wide, heavy steel cuffs
around her wrists! She tried to rise off the
table—"Oof!"—but Ulfa's hands put an immediate stop to
that. Meanwhile—Click, click—a second pair of
similar cuffs had closed around her ankles.
Ulfa leaned close and whispered in Corky's ear while the others
pulled her hands behind her back and locked the cuffs
together. Click. "We have our orders, little
Corky," the blonde explained. "Also, some of us know what
is coming and agreed you shouldn't have to suffer the temptation
to try and run away."
"That's silly," Corky huffed. "I won't run." Her
ankle cuffs were also locked together—Click—and running
anywhere was now impossible. Next, leather straps
tightened across her upper body and legs, pinning her to the
table on her stomach (and slightly squashed boobs). Corky
heaved an appropriately pathetic sigh. "What's she gonna
do to me?"
The maids giggled as they buckled the straps. "That would
be telling," Ulfa chuckled, then kissed Corky's freckled back,
between her shoulder blades. "Rest while you can," she
Ulfa and the others left the spa. One of the maids paused
to give her tushie a gentle pat, but she didn't see which
one. And so... naked, bound hand and foot with steel cuffs
and strapped face-down on the massage table... Corky was alone.
"Well," Corky muttered to herself, "it could be worse. I
could be gagged." A gag would have been pointless, of
course. Countless tons of earth and stone, additional
watery tons of moat, and then hundreds of yards of forest and
fields separated Corky from any hypothetical rescuer not in Her
Ladyship's employ who might respond to her hypothetical screams
for help. In any case, gags were part of the game, and the
fact that Corky was not gagged was a slightly ominous
move. The only likely explanation was that her fellow
maids really did want her to rest and marshal her
strength. Either that or Mistress had ordered them not to
gag her because she wanted her to rest... which was even
Butterflies fluttered in Corky's tummy. Also, a thrill—a
decidedly weak and frightened thrill—rippled through her pussy.
She willed herself to relax. It seemed a good idea not
to waste this interlude on pointless fret and worry.
That is, Her Ladyship's game of requiring Morena, her guest, to
participate in a formal, multiple-course dinner with the
appropriate decorum—while totally naked and encased in a wooden
cabinet from the waist down with unseen and anonymous hands
teasing her lady-bits and tickling her bare feet—concluded without
Morena experiencing an orgasm. She wasn't sure if this was
a win for her or for Lady Tydwell, but she was very sure
the experience had been embarrassing, humiliating, and above
all, frustrating in the extreme.
Lady Tydwell and Mistress Edna had made their departures.
Her Ladyship had paused to plant a goodnight kiss on
Morena's lips while Edna favored her with a rather disturbing,
predatory smile from the doorway, and then they were gone and
Morena was "alone" with the servants.
With quiet efficiency several maids cleared the table.
Simultaneously and with equal efficiency, other maids bound
Morena's wrists behind her back, popped a ball-gag in her mouth,
and buckled the strap tight. "Mrrf!" They also
unraveled her French braids, removing the intertwined ribbons
and leaving her brown curls a tousled mass.
Next, they unlatched the leaves and panels of the cabinet
encasing her lower body, the back of the bizarre piece of
furniture was opened, the top halves were pulled apart, and the
saddle and steel framework supporting and restraining her
ankles, legs and thighs was rolled from within. Morena
managed a glimpse inside the open cabinet as the frame spun on
its wheels 180° and she was rolled out the door, but the
trapdoor in the floor under the cabinet—the means by which the
anonymous pranksters had disrupted her efforts to be a
well-mannered dinner guest—had already been closed.
There followed a brief, rolling journey down the corridor to the
service elevator, then a descent to the lower levels. The
doors opened and Morena was rolled down a dimly lit stone
corridor—and the vibrations transmitted from the slightly uneven
floor through the wheels and framework did nothing to
relieve her frustration problem.
Finally, they arrived at a dungeon door of heavy timbers banded
with iron straps. A maid unlocked and opened the door
while the others released Morena's ankles and thighs from the
frame, lifted her from the split saddle, untied her wrists, and
unbuckled and pulled the ball-gag from her mouth. Totally
naked and with a maid maintaining a firm grip on each wrist and
arm, Morena was led across the threshold, through an open gate
of heavy iron bars—and she found herself back in her guest
accommodations, the "Practice Room."
Two of the maids maintained their gentle but businesslike holds
while a third knelt and locked the steel chastity belt she'd
worn before around her waist and through her crotch. Click-click.
The kneeling maid stood, kissed Morena's lips, then
relieved the maid holding her right arm. That maid lifted
the end of the long chain that had previously tethered Morena's
collar to the wall and locked it to a ring in the back of her
belt. Click. She smiled and kissed Morena,
then relieved the maid holding the prisoner's left arm.
That maid also kissed Morena, then gently cupped her
"Ah!" Morena gasped in response.
"Good night, Miss," the maid said. She had blue eyes, like
Morena, and her brown hair was cut in a straight, Lulu-style
bob. A smile dimpling her cheeks, she kissed Morena's
erect nipples—first the left and then the right—then released
Morena's breasts, turned, and strolled towards the door.
The other two maids kissed Morena's cheeks from either side,
then released her arms and strolled after their fellow domestic.
"Goodnight," Morena sighed as the iron gate was closed and
locked, followed by the dungeon door.
Morena was alone in the Practice Room, her loins encased in
steel but otherwise unrestrained. The only light in the
chamber was from a small, flickering lantern glowing from a
niche above the iron gate. Her additional former
restraints—collar, cuffs, and chains—were nowhere to be
seen. The only other change in her accommodations was the
addition of a music stand of heavy iron that looked as if it had
been hammered out by a medieval smith. Resting on the
stand was the iPad that had ordered her to practice and
displayed scrolling sheet music as she played.
The chastity belt was tight but comfortable, as she'd noted
earlier. It might as well have been custom made to her
exact measurements—although how Lady Tydwell might have obtained
said measurements she had no idea. Maybe she has an
extensive collection and decades of experience matching guests
to individual belts, Morena posited. That seemed the
most likely explanation. The belt's crotch panel was an
effective barrier to her questing fingers. She could just
barely manage to brush the inside margins of her labia with the
tips of her fingers through the vertical, sawtooth slit, and she
couldn't wiggle her fingers under the panel from the sides.
Oh-by-the-way, her efforts were counterproductive. They
exacerbated her sexual tension rather than providing relief.
Morena wasn't quivering with lust, but she very much
wanted to finish the job started by the hidden hands in the
dining room—but that wasn't going to happen. The game
continues, she realized, then sighed and dragged herself
and her chain to the "medieval commode." She emptied her
bladder, allowed the bidet function to drench her nether region,
including the belt, then drank from the wall fountain and
dragged herself to the sleeping pallet.
Morena lay on her back on the soft bed, reflecting on the events
of the day. She was tired... and horny. If a direct
assault on Her Ladyship's belt wouldn't work, perhaps she could
try the mental approach. Her hands gently squeezed and
stroked her breasts and she toyed with her erect nipples.
That felt good. That felt very good. And she
was helpless, and locked in a real dungeon, and Lady
Tydwell was beautiful and cruel and... and...
In the end, fatigue overpowered lust and she drifted off to
sleep before achieving anything she could call an orgasm.
During the night Morena did have many vivid, erotic
dreams—and more than one may have been of the wet variety—but
the details faded rapidly as she came awake.
A glow brightened the dungeon, morning light from the heavily
barred, sloping tunnels that served as windows. She noted
a crude tray had been delivered while she slept, and under its
rough-spun cloth cover she found a tea service of unglazed,
hand-thrown pottery and a matching plate holding a selection of
pastries and sliced fruit.
Morena's first full day as Lady Tydwell's prisoner had begun.
awake. Someone was unbuckling the straps pinning her face
down on the massage table. "Wha?" She looked back
over her shoulder and identified her rescuer as Ulfa.
"Relax, Little Corky," Ulfa chuckled. "It is time."
Corky's wrists and ankles were still locked together in steel
cuffs and she was still naked. "Time for what?" She
felt a blush touch her cheeks. Her voice had been a
nervous squeak, and it was bad form to have even asked the
question. "Never mind."
Ulfa smiled and ignored the question and its negation. The
straps were free and dangling from the table and Ulfa had
produced a key and was releasing Corky's fetters. Click,
click. Click, click.
Corky rolled over on the table and sat up. "Thank you,
Ulf—oh!" Ulfa had picked her up in the same manner as
before. Corky sighed, put her arms around Ulfa's neck,
also as before, and rested her head against the amazon's ample
bosom. "Sorry for the stupid question," she said.
"I'm a little scared."
"Only a little?" Ulfa teased. She was already out the door
and was striding down the stone corridor. She kissed the
top of Corky's head. "I would be very surprised if you
were not scared, barniđ refur."
"Baby fox. Barniđ refur means baby fox."
The journey continued. They descended a spiral staircase
and Corky realized she was being carried down to the dreaded
Lower Levels. The first basement was mainly storage and
utility spaces, with only a few chambers devoted to the Tydwell
family "hobby." Under the basement, however, was rumored
to be a veritable labyrinth of dungeon cells, oubliettes, and
torture chambers, some containing complex, elaborate, and hideous
torture engines! The junior maids knew few details and the
senior staff wasn't exactly forthcoming; however, a handful of
the juniors did have limited experience "Down Below" and had
shared what they'd learned (meaning had endured and/or
suffered). That said, Corky suspected more than a little
of what she'd been told had been exaggerated and embellished,
that they were trying to scare the new girl. Anyway, Corky
was about to learn firsthand what was waiting in at
least one of the Forbidden Chambers! She would soon have
her own tale to tell... assuming when she was finally dragged or
carried back up to the junior maid's quarters she wasn't
suffering from post-traumatic amnesia.
The stairs ended in a junction of three corridors and Ulfa
headed down the left-hand passageway. They passed niches
with iron and blown-glass lanterns flickering with orange-yellow
light. Corky knew the lanterns only looked like they
contained open flames. All the "medieval" lighting
fixtures in Tydwell Castle had been electrified decades ago and
were in the process of being upgraded to specialized and no
doubt very expensive LED bulbs that simulated burning
candles. They also passed several closed and bolted wooden
doors banded with iron.
Finally, Ulfa paused before a door, managed to pull back its
bolt despite the naked, red-haired, freckled, and
self-admittedly scared burden cradled in her arms, and
eased the heavy portal open with her hip.
They entered the space beyond and—"Oh!"—Corky's green eyes
popped wide and her lips formed an "O" of surprise.
The chamber was a large, stone-walled dungeon with a vaulted
ceiling and several flickering medieval lanterns set in niches
similar to those in the passageway. Nothing unexpected
there. What had surprised Corky was the large, complicated
machine it contained. The bulk of its huge wood and metal
gears, chains, and massive iron counterweights were mounted in a
frame of heavy timbers and was tucked against the left hand wall
and back-lit by more of the lanterns. The thing was like
the workings of a medieval clock—maybe Renaissance or later—the
sort of mechanism you'd find housed in an old clock tower.
Corky wasn't an expert in such things. In any case, the
mechanical workings weren't the major source of her surprise.
Projecting from the machine was a long, narrow horizontal
trestle, a bench or table set at waist height. It was
something like three feet wide and nine or ten feet in length
and was made of thick, heavy timbers joined and bolted to
equally thick and heavy vertical and diagonal supports. At
the end opposite the machine was a set of stocks, also thick and
heavy, with two openings. Finally, resting on the trestle
lay a pair of dark steel chains ending in wide steel cuffs lined
with what appeared to be strips of fleece. The chains
stretched to the inner workings of the machine, where they were
wound around a massive wooden drum.
"It's a rack," Corky whispered.
Ulfa kissed the top of Corky's head, again. "I am only a
maid," she said. "It is not my place to remind a poor,
frightened little damsel about to experience her first trial
that Mistress would never allow real harm to befall any
of her staff, even the most junior of her junior maids."
Corky's heart was pounding as she visually examined the deep,
well-padded openings of the stocks and the wide, well-padded
cuffs. The heavy weights and huge gears of the machine
looked strong enough to pull an elephant limb from limb.
But the device wasn't waiting for an elephant. It was
waiting for her. Corky would be the poor
unfortunate restrained on its hard, narrow bed as the gears
creaked and turned, the weights slowly fell, link by steel link
the chains were drawn onto the drum, and she was slooowly
stretched until... until...
"Oooh." It was a pathetic, whining moan she could no more
prevent than the orgasm Mistress Cressida had coaxed from her
traitorous pussy last night. She shivered in Ulfa's arms
and buried her face between the giant blond's beasts.
Ulfa waited. She could easily have carried the little
redhead to the rack and secured her in place, no matter how she
struggled... but she waited. Her naked, freckled burden
continued shivering, and she could feel Corky's pulse hammering
where her throat rested on her left breast, even through her bra
and uniform. Ulfa had her orders... but still she waited.
Finally, Corky lifted her frightened face and locked eyes with
Ulfa. "Okay," she sighed. "I'm ready."
"Brave Baby Fox," Ulfa smiled, and carried Corky to the rack.
About an hour
after Morena finished her breakfast, a pair of maids came for
She offered no resistance as they pulled her hands behind her
back and laced and buckled her into a single-sleeve arm-binder
of brown leather. Instead of shoulder straps, this
particular model incorporated a posture-collar with stiff
vertical stays, a "neck corset." She also didn't resist
when the plug of a brown leather panel-gag was thrust into her
mouth and its main strap buckled at the nape of her neck, under
her hair. This was followed by a second, much narrower
strap that buckled under her chin. The binder rolled back
her shoulders, making her breasts more prominent, and it nearly
caused her elbows to touch. The gag caused her cheeks to
bulge above its tight panel as it compressed her lower face from
chin to nose and ear to ear.
One maid fussed with Morena's hair while the other clipped the
end of a leather leash to a ring in the front of the collar,
then knelt and locked iron fetters joined by a foot of hobbling
chain around her ankles. Click, click. The
collar didn't allow Morena to lower her head far enough to
visually examine her new shackles, but it was clear what had
happened. There was another click and the chain
tethering her to the wall fell away from the back of her
chastity belt and rattled to the floor.
Hand in hand and smiling, the maids stood facing Morena.
One was Asian, possibly Malaysian, with almond-shaped, brown
eyes and delicate, exquisite features. The other was blond
with pale blue eyes, honey-blond hair, and well-tanned
skin. The blond's features were also attractive, but she
was more saucy tomboy than exotic princess.
"She is very pretty," the blond said.
"She is," the Asian agreed, then reached a tentative hand
towards Morena's left breast. "Do you suppose the House
Mistress would mind if we—"
The maids turned to find Mistress Edna standing in the threshold
of the open iron gate. Behind her, beyond the open timber
door and waiting in the hallway, was the Mistress, Lady
Edna stepped forward and took hold of the end of Morena's
leash. "I'll deal with you later," she said to the maids.
The maids curtsied and hurried from the dungeon, pausing only to
render even deeper curtsies to Her Ladyship. Morena only
manged a quick look at their expressions as they made their
exit, but the phrase "caught with their hands in the cookie jar"
Lady Tydwell joined Edna in the dungeon and they both smiled at
Morena. Lady Jane was wearing a sleeveless summer frock in
a sunny shade of yellow. The House Mistress was in a
simple black skirt and white linen blouse. Her Ladyship
cupped Morena's breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.
Morena flinched at the contact, then forced herself to
relax. This was the first time Lady Tydwell had touched
her since they'd shaken hands and exchanged polite pecks on the
cheek on the occasion of Morena's arrival at the castle.
Lady Jane's eyes were on Morena's erect nipples and firm
breasts. "Hmm, no tanning session for my Dutch beauty
today. I don't want her to develop a serious sunburn."
"Morena's skin is rather fair," Edna purred, "and she
still shows a little color from yesterday. I'll double her
exercise period. I'm sure she can handle it." Her
smile turned disturbingly evil. "If properly motivated."
"Excellent," Her Ladyship smiled, "but be sure she isn't too
tired to practice. Tanning can continue tomorrow."
"Yes, milady," Edna bowed. "Are you sure you want to
involve her in... the other matter?"
Lady Jane's smile widened. "At the very least, she may
find the experience instructive. Come." She turned
and gracefully strolled towards the dungeon door.
Edna followed, Morena's leash went taut, and she had no choice
but to mince in their wake, her steps restricted by the leg
irons. She had no idea what the "other matter" Edna had
referred to might be, but apparently she was about to find out.
The bed of the
rack was hard, but at least there weren't any rough spots or
splinters. The thick, tightly joined timbers were
comfortably smooth, possibly even waxed. Corky looked down
her naked body, willed her toes to wiggle and they did, but she
couldn't watch them move. The top half of the stocks
blocked her view. The channels gripping her ankles were
tight and deep, but well-padded with a thick layer of fleece
lining the openings and nailed into the wood. She lifted
her chin and looked up her raised arms to the steel, leather,
and fleece-lined cuffs locked around her wrists. She
wiggled her fingers and could see them move, but the
wooly padding, leather inner cuffs, and steel outer cuffs were
as tight as the stocks gripping her ankles.
In a word, the rack and its restraints was comfortable, which
Corky appreciated but did not find reassuring. The
wrist restraints amounted to suspension-cuffs, well-engineered
but medieval in style, and the ankle stocks exerted an even
grip. If the rack tightened... The butterflies in
Corky's tummy fluttered. When the rack tightened,
the pressure on her wrists and ankles would be uniformly
distributed. She'd be fine—right up to the point her
joints started pulling apart and she died in agony!
Now the butterflies were panicking, poor things.
Corky tried her best to calm them down, with only limited
Corky would like to ask Ulfa to repeat her reassurance that she
was not going to be tortured until she passed out from
the pain, but... (1) Ulfa had abandoned her to her fate
something like an hour ago, and... (2) before planting a
kiss on her forehead and making her exit, Ulfa had strapped a
wooden bit-gag thickly padded with leather in Corky's mouth and
buckled it tight at the nape of her neck.
While she waited (and the butterflies fluttered) Corky tried to
reason out the operation of the huge machine. She supposed
the various weights dangling from various chains would rise and
fall, the massive gears would grind, the drum around which the
wrist cuff chains were wound would turn, and her body would be
stretched. It was obviously a rack, and she
supposed the complex arrangement served to somehow regulate the
process... but how? What exactly would happen when
the mechanism was activated? She was very much afraid she
was going to find that out all too soon.
As if on cue, the torture chamber door opened and Corky had
company, but to her surprise it wasn't Mistress Cressida.
It was Lady Tydwell, herself! And right behind her came
the House Mistress and Her Ladyship's guest (prisoner),
Morena-the-sexy-musician. And Morena was sexy,
indeed! She was naked, gagged, a posture collar was
strapped around her throat, a tight binder encased her hands and
arms behind her back, and a really pretty steel chastity
belt was locked around her waist and through her crotch.
The rattle of chains as she walked suggested leg irons, but
Corky's position on the rack precluded visual confirmation.
Her Ladyship strolled to the right side of the rack and smiled
down at Corky. Edna led Morena to the left side.
Lady Jane was radiant, as always. Mistress Edna's smile
was disturbing, also as always. Morena's expression was
masked by her gag, but based on her staring, blue eyes, the
fiddle player was horrified by Corky's plight. You and
me both, Corky mused.
Lady Tydwell placed her right hand on Corky's left breast.
Even with Corky's arms stretched over her head the pale,
freckled globe had volume. Her Ladyship gently rolled the
coral-pink flesh of the erect nipple between her thumb and
forefinger and Corky shivered in response. "Poor
thing," Lady Jane purred.
"That is hardly a stretch," Edna stated. "Would you like
me to take in a few links? Perhaps seven?"
Corky's butterflies had a very negative opinion
of the House Mistress' suggestion, as did Corky, but she limited
her overt reactions to eye-rolling, bosom heaving, panting
around her mouth-filling gag, and the flaring of her
nostrils. In truth, Corky couldn't prevent any of that
from happening, but at least she managed not to moan into her
"No, I think not," Her Ladyship decided. "We'll leave that
Corky sighed in relief (sort of), then her eyes popped wide when
Her Ladyship's hand left her breast, slid down her stomach, and
came to rest on her pubic hair.
"I so enjoy gingers," Lady Tydwell sighed.
The House Mistress smiled. "As well as blonds, brunettes,
and raven-haired beauties, but especially gingers?"
"I didn't say especially," Her Ladyship purred, "now did I?"
Mistress Edna's smile faded. "I still think she's too
young and too inexperienced. Especially too
"Especially," Lady Tydwell agreed with a mocking smile.
"We will, of course, monitor the immurement and you will direct
her actions as needed."
Corky's tummy rose and fell as she continued panting, causing
Her Ladyship's hand to rise and fall. 'Immurement?'
Her eyes darted from Lady Tydwell, to Mistress Edna, and back
again. What the hell is an 'immurement?'
"Any one of the senior maids would be better suited," Mistress
"Cressida has made her choice," Her Ladyship responded.
Her hand continued to rest on Corky's tummy, the rising and
falling its only movement.
Mistress Edna was still unsmiling. "She made her 'choice,'
as you put it, without knowing she was doing so."
Her Ladyship nodded, still smiling at Corky. "Yes.
Nonetheless, I have made my decision."
Mistress Edna nodded. "Yes, milady."
Her Ladyship shifted her smile to the House Mistress. "Oh,
don't pout. I said we will monitor and nurture. All
will be well. You'll see."
"Yes, milady," Mistress Edna sighed.
"Don't be like that," Lady Jane chuckled. "The senior
maids will assist, as always. This is going to be a
"We'll make it succeed," Mistress Edna responded, the ghost of a
smile curling her lips.
"There's my Edna," Lady Tydwell chuckled.
Corky continued looking from face to face. She was more
confused that ever. What are they talking about?
What's an immurement? And what does it have to do with
Lady Tydwell gave Corky's bush an affectionate pat, then turned
towards the door. "Cressida will appear soon. You
need to arrange for Morena's exercise, and I could use a cup of
Mistress Edna smiled down at Corky's naked, helpless form.
"May I start the machine? I'll lock the timing chain on
its slowest setting."
"And deprive Cressida of the pleasure?" Her Ladyship
chided. She was already striding towards the door.
"Not to worry," Mistress Edna purred, smiling at Morena.
"I'll vent my frustrations elsewhere." She strolled after
Corky only had time to share a brief commiserating sigh with
Morena before the leash went taut and Her Ladyship's guest
stumbled in the House Mistress' wake. The torture chamber
door closed, Corky heard the bolt slam, and she was alone...
again... in the grip of the giant, sinister machine.
Some sort of game was afoot—some sort of great-big-hairy
game—and Corky had landed right in the middle of it. She
tugged on her wrist cuffs and wiggled her unseen toes,
again. From now on she'd listen closely to everything
anyone said and try and piece together what was going to happen,
but at the moment she had more immediate concerns.
| Chapter 3