by Van ©2015
		Chapter 2

Tauton House was magnificent.  It was a typical Victorian Painted Lady, with gables, turrets, a wraparound porch, and a widow's walk atop part of the peaked roof.  All the elements were painted in a dozen or more complimentary colors—hence the "Painted Lady" appellation—but in this case the palette was a mix of earth-tones, including a shade of hunter-green so dark it was almost black, moss-green, sage-green, rust-brown, coyote-brown, and harvest-gold.  It was surrounded by houses of various design, all set back on their own forested lots, but thanks to its color scheme, Tauton House blended right into the surrounding trees much better than its neighbors.  There was a large oak in the front yard, and Hayden half expected Robin Hood himself to drop from the branches and welcome them with a mischievous grin and a doff of his Lincoln-green cap.

"It's beautiful," Hayden sighed, and she meant it.

"Thank you," Sharon said, then opened the front gate and gestured for her prospective tenant to enter.

The front yard was surrounded by an ornate iron fence, also typical for a Victorian, but the fence was unlike any Hayden had seen before.  There were unmistakable Celtic elements worked into the design, iron bars interwoven in complex knot patterns.  And now that they approached the front porch, Hayden noticed a similar motif in the ornamentation adorning the house's facade.  There were even animals, real and fantastical, prancing along the frieze-boards or crouching like gargoyles atop cornices.  She recognized stylized dragons, foxes, hounds, and leopards or some other form of cats, all done in the Celtic manner, but with a light hand.  They were there, but didn't scream for attention.  Until today, Hayden hadn't thought it was possible to have an understated Painted Lady, but here it was.

The tour of the first floor revealed a parlor, library, solarium, dining room, and a large, modern kitchen.  The decor was for the most part Victorian, but with a mix of the contemporary, like the large, extended sofa facing a big-screen TV in the parlor.

Sharon led Hayden through the kitchen, out onto the back porch, down a set of steps to the back yard, and out onto a large, well-manicured lawn surrounded by flowerbeds and a tall, dense hedge, providing complete privacy.  Only the somewhat distant roof peaks and chimneys of the neighboring houses were visible.  And it turned out that privacy was needed.

In the middle of the lawn, sitting cross-legged atop a colorful beach towel, was a blonde girl in an aqua-blue bikini.  More correctly, she was in half of an aqua-blue bikini.  The top was lying next to her on the towel.  The diminutive pixie was also wearing sunglasses and she was reading a paperback book.

Sharon cleared her throat, rather loudly.  "Ahem."

The blonde looked up in surprise.  "Oh, hi!" she said with a smile, then quickly donned the bikini-top, gracefully climbed to her feet, and scampered forward.

All of this gave Hayden a chance to admire the youngster's athletic body, tan, smooth skin, and firm breasts, before they disappeared into the aqua-blue cups of the top.

"Hi, I'm Andrea," the blonde said, still smiling.  She finished tying the top's strings, removed and folded her sunglasses, then thrust them through the bikini so they dangled between her breasts.  She then offered her hand.  "You must be Hayden."

Hayden shook Andrea's tiny but strong hand.  The blonde was, indeed, quite tiny, something like five feet in height, and Hayden couldn't begin to guess her age.  In fact, seeing as it was a school day, it was an open question as to why she wasn't in a high school classroom, or possibly a junior high school classroom.

"Hayden Carriger," Sharon said, "this nearly naked nymph is Andrea Tauton, my grandniece."

"I'm just taking a break from writing and catching a few rays," Andrea giggled.

Hayden noticed a sheen of what was probably sunscreen on Andrea's skin, and detected the scent of cocoa butter.  "Writing?"

"Andrea has published her first novel," Sharon said proudly, "and is nearly finished with her second."

"That's amazing," Hayden gushed, then realized she was blushing.  "For your age, I mean, to be a writer at your age."

Andrea's smile never wavered.  "My age?  What do you mean?"

Hayden's blush deepened.  "I, uh, I mean, you seem so young."

"Stop it," Sharon huffed, addressing Andrea.  "She turned to Hayden.  "Andrea only looks like she belongs in diapers.  She graduated from Lewis & Clark last year."

Hayden's smile brightened.  "Oh, I went to Lewis & Clark."

Andrea's smile turned a little mischievous.  "We'll have to compare notes.  The campus can't have changed all that much over the years."

Hayden realized Andrea was referring to her elderly, thirty-something status.  This was only fair, seeing as she'd brought up the topic of age.  She smiled at Andrea, and the little blue-eyed scamp smiled back.

"What do you think of Tauton House?" Andrea asked.  "Do you think you'll stay?"

"I haven't shown her the bedrooms yet, Hobbit," Sharon chuckled.  "Go back to your reading."

"Yes, Mistress," Andrea giggled, dropping into a deep, respectful (meaning mocking) curtsey.  She then scampered back to the towel and settled back down with her book.

"Hobbit?" Hayden said quietly as she followed Sharon back up the steps to the porch.

"Andrea's nickname," Sharon chuckled.  She turned and shouted back into the yard.  "Sunscreen!"

"Yes, Mistress," Andrea giggled, then set down her book, picked up a plastic bottle, and began slathering lotion on her arms.

The second and third floors were a warren of rooms, both large and small.  Sharon didn't show her the other tenant's rooms, but she did show the common bathroom.  It had a claw-foot tub, a large shower, and a pair of washbasins.

"The washer and dryer are in the basement, near the sauna," Sharon explained.

Hayden's smile broadened.  "You have a sauna?"

"A large dry sauna," Sharon confirmed. "Now, I have a small bedroom available on the third floor and a large bedroom in the attic.  Let me show you."

The third floor bedroom wasn't small, it was tiny, suitable as an emergency guest room, but hardly comfortable.  The attic room, on the other hand was, indeed, large.  It was also very charming, with a complex ceiling, a window seat that looked down on the backyard, and a queen-size, four-poster bed.  As an added bonus, it had its own half-bath with a washbasin and commode.  Hayden chose the attic bedroom.  It wasn't really a contest.

That left the issue of the other two tenants.  Sharon insisted Hayden stay for dinner, so she met Chloe and Dorothy when they returned home from work.  Hayden learned they both worked at Archer Metals, a business on the edge of town.

Chloe, another blonde, was a sculptor and metalworker.  It was she who had fabricated Tauton House's fence.  She was about Hayden's age and (in Hayden's opinion) quite beautiful.

Dorothy was Black, short—Andrea short—and gorgeous.  She shared the nickname of Hobbit with the little blonde, and unless Hayden's social radar was out of whack, the two Hobbits were at the very least BFF's and more likely a couple.  The two pixies were very cute together.

Dinner was a smoked ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans, and cornbread.  Dessert was a red velvet cake!

"I hope all the meals around here aren't like this," Hayden said as she consumed a piece of cake.

"What's the matter, dear," Sharon purred.  "You don't like my cooking?"

Hayden blushed.  "No, no, uh, I mean... this filling.  I hope all the meals aren't this filling."  She realized Sharon was teasing her and her blush faded.  "It's delicious.  It's all delicious."

"She's trying to impress you," Andrea said.

"So you'll agree to stay," Dorothy added.

"You two stifle yourselves," Chloe huffed, then smiled her dimpled smile at Hayden.  "You are gonna take the room, aren't you?"

Hayden's blush returned as she took a bite of cake.  She wasn't embarrassed, but being the center of attention was slightly disquieting.  "Uh, yes," she said to Sharon, after swallowing, "if you'll have me."

"Of course we'll have you, dear," Sharon answered with a smile, and Hayden's now fellow tenants cheered.

Hayden smiled (and blushed) as she finished eating her cake.  She couldn't believe her luck.  Tauton House was like something out of a fairy tale, or maybe an adventure novel.  Sharon was both maternal and fun, and as for her now fellow tenants, she could see herself becoming good friends with all of them.  In point of fact, they already were friends.  Hayden felt happy, and warm, and welcome.  She resolved to write a thank you note to Jillian Foxwood for recommending her to Sharon.

Hayden left soon after dinner, going back to her temporary lodgings to give notice that she'd be checking out and to begin packing.  The bulk of her possessions were in storage, and they comprised only a few boxes and a little furniture.  Hayden's prospective attic bedroom was fully furnished, and she liked everything there much better than her old chest of drawers, couple of chairs, and the cheap, full-size bed she'd bought at Ikea.  Sharon had assured her there was plenty of room to store everything down in the basement, so none of it would be a problem.

The owner and residents of Tauton House saw Hayden out the door and down the porch, waving and wishing her goodnight, then the door closed with a quiet thud.

"I like her," Andrea sighed.  "She's gonna be a lot of fun."

"No question," Dorothy agreed.

"She's okay," Chloe shrugged.  For the blonde, that was high praise.  Chloe was always slow to warm to newcomers and was something of a wallflower at Sharon's infrequent parties.

"Hayden is a dear," Sharon said, then turned to Andrea and her smile morphed into a serious frown.  "As for you, young lady, what do you mean by flaunting your naked breasts at our newest family member before she'd even been introduced?"

Andrea's smile faded and was replaced by an expression of worried concern.  "What?  Sunbathing in the backyard?"  She turned to Dorothy and Chloe for support.  "I was sunbathing in the backyard.  That's no big deal, right?"

Dorothy and Chloe were still smiling.  "Naked in front of a stranger?" Chloe said, shaking her head.

"What a little tramp," Dorothy sighed.

"Oh... pooh!"  Andrea stuck out her tongue, first at her fellow Hobbit, than at her fellow blonde, then turned back to Sharon, instantly contrite.  "I'm sorry, Sharon," she said, batting her eyes.  "I decided to take a break from writing, lost track of time, and—"

"The dog ate your homework?" Sharon purred.

"We don't have a dog," Chloe observed.

"We don't even have a cat," Dorothy agreed.

Sharon locked eyes with Andrea.  "Strip."

Surrounded by the others in the narrow confines of the entryway, Andrea was trapped.  (Not that she'd actually try to escape and thereby ruin the game, of course.)  "I thought we weren't supposed to be doing stuff like this until Hayden settles in?"

"Hayden hasn't moved in yet, Hobbit," Sharon observed.  She was being inconsistent, arbitrary, and totally unfair.  No one cared.  Not even Andrea.

Andrea decided the awesome power of her adorable, innocent pout was her only chance.  "Sharon," Andrea whined, batting her sad, blue eyes.

Sharon's smile had returned.  "What part of 'strip' has you confused?" she purred.

Andrea heaved a sigh, then pulled her t-shirt over her head and handed it to Dorothy—unzipped, pulled down and stepped free of her jeans, then handed them to Chloe—and finally removed her bra and panties.  They went to Dorothy and Chloe, respectively.  She heaved a final, heartbreaking sigh, then placed her hands atop her pouting head with her fingers interlaced.

"Wait for me in my bedroom," Sharon ordered.

"Yes, Mistress," sighed, then turned and scampered away.

Sharon, Chloe, and Dorothy watched Andrea's diminutive form depart, admiring her allover tan, strong back and legs, dimpled buttocks, etc., etc.  Finally, Andrea padded up the grand staircase and was gone.

Sharon turned back to Chloe, smiled, and indicated Dorothy with a graceful gesture.  "Do me a favor and keep this one busy for the evening, would you?"

Dorothy blinked in surprise and dismay.  "What?  Mrrrpfh!"

In one fluid motion, Chloe had pinned Dorothy's upper arms behind her back with her left arm and had her right hand tightly clamped over Dorothy's mouth.  "Any particular reason?" she purred.

"I'll be busy teaching Andrea the error of her ways," Sharon explained.  "I don't want Pepper trying to rescue Salt."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, then resumed struggling and squirming.  Sneaking into Mistress' bedroom (somehow) so she could watch whatever Sharon had in mind for her lover was a given, but rescuing her?  That was just silly.

Andrea's clothes were now a disorderly pile on the entryway floor, and Chloe and her prisoner watched as Sharon stooped and picked up the jeans, t-shirt, bra, and panties.  She handed the panties to Chloe, who momentarily released her hand gag to take custody of the silky briefs, but immediately stuffed them into the mewling, struggling little pixie's mouth.

"Try not to damage her," Sharon purred as she planted a kiss on Dorothy's forehead, a second kiss on Chloe's smiling lips, then headed for the staircase.

A thrill of arousal and anticipation shivered through Chloe's pussy as she watched their beautiful landlord and mistress climb the stairs.

Oddly enough—to those unfamiliar with the games and the players of Tauton House—Dorothy's reaction was more or less identical.

Naked, with her hands still atop her head, Andrea found herself staring at... The Box.  She'd watched Sharon wheel the diabolical device from the back of her closet.  Now she watched as Mistress unlocked the front, which disengaged several heavy bolts, pulled the thick, heavy front panel open, then reached inside and pulled the Sybian several inches forward on its telescoping steel track.  Finally, she removed the front half of the box's lid and set it aside.

Sharon turned to Andrea and smiled.  "Rope or leather?"

Andrea was still pouting, of course.  "You're the evil, despicable villainess," she muttered.  "It's your call."

"Leather it is, then," Sharon chuckled.  She reentered the walk-in closet, returned with a small leather duffel, and stepped behind Andrea.

Andrea heaved a truly tragic sigh.  She recognized the duffel and knew its contents.  In short order, her arms were folded behind back and her hands and forearms tucked into what amounted to a leather bag.  Tight straps yoked her shoulders, encircled her torso above and below her breasts, and pinned her upper arms to her sides.  A leather flap was closed, three buckles secured, and the bag became a tight sheath, encasing and more or less immobilizing her lower arms, hands, and fingers.  Andrea didn't even bother executing a courtesy struggle.  She knew herself to be completely helpless.

Next, Sharon eased a ball-gag into Andrea's mouth and buckled it at the nape of her neck, under her hair.  She then slipped a Gwen Hood in place—a skintight, leather encasement with an oval opening that left the little blonde's nose, cheeks, pathetically sad eyes, and forehead exposed.  Sharon laced up the hood and tied a doubled bow, in the process gathering Andrea's long blond locks and confining them in a small opening in the back of the hood, making sure they draped down behind the naked prisoner's back in a tousled ponytail.  Finally, she strolled around to Andrea's front, took a step back, and smiled.

Andrea tugged on her bonds.  Again, it wasn't a courtesy struggle, but she couldn't stay still under Sharon's benign but predatory gaze.  Andrea eyed the bedroom door, but she knew it was locked.  Even if she somehow managed to get it open, she knew she'd lose a footrace with Sharon.

"Look at you," Sharon purred.  "You'd like to be free... wouldn't you."

Her breasts heaving, slightly, Andrea again tugged on her bonds.  She also shifted her bare feet.  It was an act, but only in part.  Some degree of nervousness was natural.  After all, she really was naked, bound, and gagged, and she knew what was coming.  Andrea eyed the perpendicular phallus jutting from the Sybian... then shifted her gaze back to Sharon.

"Brazen little hussies who flaunt their naked breasts at strangers will not be tolerated at Tauton House," Sharon decreed.  "Perhaps a night of frustration and pleasure will teach you the error of your ways."

Andrea managed not to break into a gagged, giggling fit.  A night of frustration and pleasure?  Was that a punishment or a reward?  In Tauton House, it was both.  Anyway, Andrea managed to maintain her role as Sharon's pitiful prisoner, but it was a near thing.

"Get into the bathroom," Sharon ordered, and Andrea scampered into the attached bath.  Sharon followed, watched the bound and gagged pixie relieve herself, then used a wet washcloth to clean her up afterwards.  They returned to the bedroom proper... and the waiting Box... and it was time.

Sharon used a small plastic vial to anoint the Sybian's phallus with lubricant, gazed at her helpless captive, and Andrea gazed back.  "Well," Sharon said after several seconds, "are you going to mount your throne for the evening, or do I have to fetch my riding crop?"

Andrea heaved a final, piteous sigh, then padded to the box, carefully straddled the Sybian, and slowly, carefully eased herself down onto the phallus.  The latex-clad vibrator slid into her vagina and her labia settled down onto the ridge of vibrating latex bumps and tiny bristles at its base.  Sharon knelt at her side to ensure the insertion went safely, then buckled cuffs around Andrea's ankles and straps across her thighs and shins, pinning her in place in what amounted to a leather-enforced frog-tie.

With effort, Sharon slid Andrea and the Sybian back into The Box, pausing to make sure Andrea's neck was properly positioned in the back half of the posture collar built into the top with her ponytail dangling free.  She then slotted the front half of the lid, which included the front half of the collar, of course, and slid it closed.  Finally, she closed and locked the front of The Box.

Andrea was now totally encased, except for the oval opening in the Gwen Hood.  The Box's padding embraced her bound, helpless body on all sides, adding redundant restraint, and the posture collar cupped her chin and more or less immobilized her head.  Andrea could barely squirm.

"If you start whining and making pathetic little noises," Sharon purred, "I'll wheel you into the closet and you'll be all alone."  She strolled to her bed, picked up an iPad mini, and began tapping and gliding a finger across its tiny screen.  "Remember," she said with a coy smile, "you're a naughty girl and brought this on yourself."  She tapped the screen a final time, then set the iPad back down on the night stand and strolled towards the closet.

Andrea watched her mistress depart.  The Box, and therefore Andrea, were facing Sharon's bed, so once she passed, Andrea could see nothing else.  She knew Mistress' evening routine.  Sharon would stroll into the walk-in closet, remove her clothing, then pad into the bath, take a shower and make her other preparations for bed, then return to the closet, slither into her nightgown, and pad to the bed.  Precisely how long all that would take, Andrea wasn't sure, but—"Mrrrf!"

The Sybian had come to life.  That is, the phallus and the ridge under Andrea's crotch had started vibrating!  As usual, it began abruptly with two seconds at full power.  Then, immediately, the titillating, teasing waves of erotic power dropped to almost nothing.  The pulse had been to get Andrea's attention, and even though she knew it was coming, it always worked, instantly reminding her that she was encased, helpless, and totally in the power of the machine.

I wonder which program she chose? Andrea wondered as the vibrators continued their low-level buzz.  The control software came with an extensive menu of options.  Each program was a series of vibratory sessions varying from the simple to the exquisitely complex.  All could be set to repeat, ad infinitum, or strung together in a pseudo-random playlist.  The intervals between sessions could also be set to randomly vary from long, long, long minutes of low-level frustration, to brief breathers between one orgasmic session and the next.  There was also a particularly insidious program that would extract several orgasms, then completely shut down for very long intervals of random duration... then pulse back to life with one of the menu's briefer sessions... then shut down again... all night!  Andrea really hated that one.  Endless catnaps interrupted by jolting orgasms or near orgasms.  She hated it.

Finally, Sharon strolled back into view, dressed in her nearly transparent nightgown, as expected.  Andrea watched as she slid between the sheets, settled her head and shoulders against the pillows piled against the headboard, donned her reading glasses, tapped a button to extinguish all the bedroom's lights except her reading light, then began reading her book.  She ignored the Prisoner of The Box completely, but Andrea wasn't fooled.  That was part of the game.  After all, Andrea was a naughty girl being punished by her elder, not part of an elaborate erotic floor show staged for Sharon's entertainment.

The vibrator continued buzzing... on low power.

Sharon continued reading.

Andrea continued "suffering" the erotic torture that was confinement in The Box.  At least I'm not sequestered in the back of the closet, Andrea mused.  At least I get to watch as Mistress does her best to pretend she's not watching me.

Chloe and Dorothy were on Chloe's bed.  Andrea's panties were still stuffed in Dorothy's mouth. and Chloe had managed to stretch a single wide strip of Elastoplast tape over the struggling dark cutie's lips and smooth it in place before she could expel the silky wad and complain about her treatment or scream for help.  Obviously, Chloe was very good at handling wiggling captives.  (Either that, or Dorothy was pulling her punches, only pretending to struggle.)

The squirming, flailing contest continued as the smiling Chloe unbuttoned Dorothy's blouse and managed to peel it off her shoulders, strip it from her arms, and toss it away.  The petite wildcat's bra was next, then Chloe flipped her onto her stomach, gathered her arms, folded them behind her back, and held them together, forearm to forearm.  She then began wrapping them with white Vetwrap.  Chloe made a thorough job of it, and soon the captive's fingers, hands, and forearms were mummified under overlapping tape bands from elbow to elbow.

Chloe flipped Dorothy onto her back and useless, tape-encased arms, unbuttoned and unzipped the squirming beauty's jeans, and peeled them down her hips and legs.  Dorothy's panties followed, and now the Hobbit also known as Pepper was nude.  She continued mewling through her gag and kicking and squirming, but (strangely) was unable to prevent her grinning captor from crossing her ankles and binding them together with a second roll of white Vetwrap.  Chloe stretched the tape around and between Dorothy's wiggling feet, ensuring her prisoner's ankles would remain permanently crossed.  This was to make it difficult, if not impossible, for the Nubian Princess to hop around the bedroom and/or kangaroo her way to freedom.

Chloe stood beside her bed and gazed down at her charge for the evening.  Mistress had ordered her to make sure Pepper didn't try and rescue her beloved Salt, so she would.  It was a dirty, rotten job, but until Hayden was indoctrinated and properly trained, there was no one else to do it.  Her gaze rested on the gold rings piercing Dorothy's nipples.  There were lots of ways Chloe could use those rings to tease and torment her captive.  At the very least she could tie the rings together.  She had a thin, white ribbon in her nightstand drawer that would be perfect for the task.  No, she decided, not tonight.  Only if she gets really feisty.

Dorothy glared up at her captor and tested her bonds, simultaneously radiating anger and fear.  Fiesty-but-scared Damsel was Dorothy's forte, and she'd had a lot of experience perfecting the character.  She watched as Chloe removed her clothes.  They all took advantage of the privacy provided by the tall hedges of Tauton House's backyard to bask in the sun, and Chloe had a magnificent allover tan.  Dorothy hardly needed to work on her "tan," but if she didn't sunbathe in the buff she was susceptible to tan-lines.  Anyway...  Dorothy heaved a gagged sigh.  Chloe wasn't one of those blondes one could characterize as a Beach Bunny with bronze skin, but she did have a very healthy tan.  She was also a lithe, athletic beauty.  Thanks to her vocation as a metalworker, her hands and arms were strong, as well as bearing the inevitable minor burn scars what went with the job.  Dorothy knew Chloe was also a truly gifted artist, respected and admired by her fellow workers and especially by Cody Archer, their boss.

Dorothy continued squirming and tugging on her bonds as Chloe put her clothes away and strolled back to the bed.  The captive knew her captor was being very considerate by binding her with tape, rather than rope or one or more of her inescapable steel creations.  At Archer Metals, Chloe worked out on the main floor, wearing heavy gloves and an apron, but Dorothy worked in the office, handling most of the company's daily paperwork.  Ligature marks on Dorothy's wrists might not be as visible as they'd be on, say, Andrea's, but she'd still have to wear a long-sleeved blouse tomorrow if she got carried away trying to free herself tonight.  Her Vetwarp bonds rendered the issue entirely moot.

Now as naked as her charge, Chloe lifted Dorothy into her arms and carried her down the hall and into the bathroom.  She set Dorothy down on the commode and waited while the captive emptied her bladder, then used a wet washcloth to clean her prisoner's crotch.  She then leaned Dorothy against the wall, precariously balanced on one foot, as she used the facilities.

Dorothy watched as Chloe brushed her teeth.  Obviously, she wouldn't be able to brush her own teeth until she was released, probably in the morning.  She batted her sad, brown eyes as Chloe carried her back into the bedroom and gently eased her onto the bed.

Chloe turned off the lights and reclined next to her prisoner.  Dorothy watched by the light of Chloe's nightlight as her captor opened the drawer of the bedside table and produced a latex-clad, torpedo-style vibrator.  The tapered shaft was ribbed and studded with bumps and was a deep purple, nearly black in the dim bedroom.

Dorothy flinched as the torpedo buzzed to life.  She struggled and tried to turn away, but Chloe put a stop to that by embracing her from the side and easing her right leg between Dorothy's legs.  The captive's taped ankles would have made it exceedingly difficult for her to close her legs completely, but Chloe's strong, tan leg made it quite impossible.  The evilly grinning blonde then began sliding the blunt tip of the vibrator against Dorothy's labia.

"Mrrrrpfh!"  Dorothy continued squirming and fighting, but could do nothing to escape the buzzing torpedo.

Chloe continued holding her close and teasing her pussy.  "Quit that, you squirmy little Hobbit," she chuckled.  Chloe quite enjoyed being the one on top, especially with Salt or Pepper,  The diminutive couple were such delectable tidbits.

"Mrrrrr."  Dorothy continued struggling, writhing, wiggling... whatever.  Chloe knew just where to place the tip of the torpedo.  It was... horrible?  Who am I kidding, Dorothy thought, shivering with delight.  It's wonderful.  However, she did continue squirming.

"I've been thinking," Chloe said, continuing to tease Dorothy's private parts with consummate skill.  "We ought to form a betting pool.  Payoff goes to whoever correctly guesses which one of us Mistress assigns the task of extracting the first bound orgasm from Hayden.  It'll be a secret between you, Andrea, and myself, of course.  Mistress would throw one of her tizzy-fits if she found out.  You in?"  Dorothy continued squirming.  "Dorothy?"

Obviously, the helpless, dusky beauty was too distracted to think about wagering on how Hayden would lose her Tauton House virginity.

Chloe smiled, kissed the side of Dorothy's neck, and eased back on the vibrator.  No need to rush things, and they could discuss betting on important milestones of Hayden's initiation in the morning, on the way to work.