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time Amanda was really sure the prisoner in the fox costume standing
Roque was, in fact, Chessy Golden, the two glamazons had pulled her to
feet and were half-dragging, half-carrying her from the office.
looked back over her shoulder and forced a questioning whine through
gag, but all she
achieved was a
last, confirming glimpse of the sad, beautiful eyes of her fellow
the door closed and they were in the
That La Roque bitch kidnapped
Chessy, too? How? When?
weak from her hogtie ordeal, Amanda's legs couldn't
support much of her weight, and her arms were too weak for
her to offer much
in the way of resistance. Nonetheless, Amanda had
her pride, despite all that had happened. She marshaled her
remaining strength and
against her handlers' grips. In response, the
glamazons paused, crossed her wrists behind
her back, and zipped them together with a pair of plasti-cuffs.
continued. One office corridor led to another, then to an
elevator. It dropped them several stories to another series of
walls were concrete and the general ambiance decidedly more utilitarian
than the finished spaces above.
had regained the full use of her limbs, discounting her bonds, and
was walking under her own power. However, her
handlers still had their gloved hands firmly clamped around her arms
and were, as always, very much
in control. What she could see of her body was creased with
rope-marks, but in her expert, highly experienced opinion, the
bands of pink stripes and indentations
would probably fade without bruising—the marks
she could see, anyway. This was surprising, and was yet another
tribute to Petra's great skill as a Rope Mistress.
Sadistic? Cruel? Hell
yes, but she had to admit the smug bitch knew how to apply the
rope (or cord) without
inflicting any lasting harm. In point of fact,
if Amanda was heartless
duplicate her recent ordeal with Gloria
as victim—which she was
not, and would not—she wasn't
sure she could
bring it off with comparably harmless results.
They came to a steel door painted a deep shade of cobalt blue.
Above the keypad
of its cypher-lock was a small, highly polished steel sign in a
decorative script font
that read: "Sirènes".
One of the glamazons entered a code (using her body to block Amanda's
view) and opened the door. They entered, and the door slammed
The floor, ceiling, and walls of this new
room were tiled in glistening cobalt. The
air was humid and hot,
and a curtain of water was splashing across a meter-wide opening
near the base of the
far wall. Set in one wall was a large cabinet, painted to match
One of the glamazons opened the cabinet, produced a pair of
black plastic cuffs, and snapped them
Amanda's ankles. They were about three inches wide,
thickly padded with blue-gray neoprene, and followed the contours of
ankles with anatomical detail. More
custom-manufactured restraints, Amanda observed. The walls
of the cuffs
rings on swivel mounts, and the glamazon seized Amanda's ankles and
brought them together, then snapped a locking steel clip through the
rings, binding her ankles close.
The glamazon stood and removed the plasti-cuffs binding Amanda's
wrists. She was still somewhat weak—but now her hands
She stole a
at the second glamazon and found her standing a
good two paces to the side. It was impossible to read her
expression through the
faceplate of her helmet,
but her body
language was unmistakable. Amanda had her full attention, and the
fingertips of her right glove were poised above the handle of the
shock-baton holstered in her right knee-boot.
through her gag. Highly-trained,
well-armed, glamazon handlers aside, with her ankles
locked together, she might fantasize
a spectacular kung-fu escape, but it was not going to happen—not at the
moment, anyway. She returned her
full attention to the first
glamazon, and found her brief interval of semi-freedom was about to
glamazon had pulled a rigid, black plastic sheath from the cabinet, and
began fitting it around Amanda's
wrist, and hand. It was like a
medical cast or brace, with the same stainless steel hardware
and blue-gray neoprene
lining as the ankle cuffs. Amanda curled her fingers and thumb
padded rod across the palm of the interior, forming a
fist. The two halves
of the sheath came together, and a series of locking clasps engaged
seams. Amanda's fingers, hand, wrist, and forearm were now
trapped and completely immobilized.
Her left hand was next. She gripped the second sheath's padded
rod, the halves snapped closed, and now both her hands
were encased and useless. She considered the possibility of using
her new restraints as clubs;
but even this vain hope
was taken away when her handler spun her around, folded her arms
behind her back, and snapped the two sheaths together. They now
formed a single unit, binding her forearm-to-forearm,
with each fist tucked against its opposite elbow.
A change of gags was next. The hateful bit-ball she had been
most of the day was unlocked and removed—but before she could
do more than stretch her jaw and lick her lips—it was replaced with
what she could only describe as a combination gas-mask and
plug-gag. It had a clear,
oval faceplate, several dangling straps, and the plug was a small
whiffle-ball sandwiched between the two halves of a rubber
mouthpiece. Attached to the front, over the plug, was a
disk-shaped steel housing that was probably a compact air regulator.
The plug was seated in her mouth, the faceplate was fitted, and the
Amanda's head and snapped
together. Care was taken to arrange her hair so that it was
evenly distributed between the various parts of the resulting harness,
then the straps were pulled taut, creating an
The apparatus was a surprisingly effective
gag. The regulator allowed her to take shallow breaths, but if
she tried to expel the volume of air required to make significant
noise, its diaphragm snapped shut, blocking all air movement and thus
preventing her vocal cords from functioning.
Before Amanda had a chance to do more than wonder about the
of this new "scuba-gag", the glamazons lifted her by the torso and
carried her to the splashing curtain of water—and tossed her headfirst
through the opening beyond!
tried to scream through her
gag, with no result! She was plunging down a watery
in total darkness! Churning water
cushioned her body and carried her along. It was like a water
park slide, twisting and turning, and it went on and on!
had the impression of light ahead—then found
herself falling through air, still surrounded by cascading water!
She tried to scream, again—and plunged
into a deep, dark pool!
Amanda twisted and squirmed, fighting her bonds and drifting in
warm, dark water. Her eyes adjusted... and she could
that she was surrounded by bubbles... and they were rising... and so
Her head broke the surface, and she found herself in a very strange place. It
was quite large, and the ceiling was sculpted and textured like
the roof of a vast cavern. Embedded in the hanging
stalactites and clustered in large veins, jutting crystals emitted a
soft, bluish glow. It was
being on the inside of a gymnasium-sized geode.
It was all very beautiful,
but Amanda had a concern more compelling than sightseeing, namely, breathing! Less than a minute
had passed since her glamazonian handlers had
tossed her through the wall of the blue room above and down the slide,
but it was time enough
the air trapped in her mask to become stale.
The problem was, the
regulator wouldn't allow her to take in
more than tiny
of air. She calmed herself by force of will and floated, slowly
kicked her bound legs, keeping her
head above the churning surface, and breathing in shallow pants.
As she adjusted to the limits of the regulator, her eyes fully adjusted to the dim
light. Whoever had designed this
subterranean, aquatic wonderland had done a masterful job. The faux-rock
stalactites and stalagmites and the irregularly placed crystals looked
Of course, Amanda knew that none of her surroundings were natural. They couldn't
be. If there was such
a cavern, anywhere on the planet—much
less buried under
Manhattan—it would be world
She looked up, and beheld the churning mouth of the
water slide/waterfall that had been her mode of entry. At the far
end of the roughly rectangular pool there was a second waterfall, but
this one poured from the side of the cavern wall, between two
stalagmites, then ran down
a narrow channel before entering the main pool. There were also a
number of dry cave openings in the surrounding walls, as well as
flat, open spaces, and—"Nurmmfh!"
and legs had
been seized by several pair of hands and she was dragged
eyes popped wide! She'd been captured
by a small school of mermaids!
There were four of them, with fantastic
full-head masks. From the
down, they were encased in flexible, close-fitting, rubber sheathes
that held their legs together. The sheathes terminated in
a set of swim fins that had
been molded as one unit.
Their masks were sculpted to resemble human faces with oversize, glassy
eyes and elongated features. Midsagittal fins crested their
skulls, running from front to back; their "ears" were pointed
fringed; and neat rows of gill slits fluttered on either side of
their throats. Their long hair floated free. Either
that, or the masks had attached wigs. The overall result was
exotic, with a streamlined, fey, and undeniable
In addition, each mermaid's mask, sheath, fins, and fluke had been
fabricated to suggest a different "species". They were:
La Roque built herself an
underground pool—and stocked it with mermaids??
Meanwhile, her aquatic captors had taken her deep, had attached an air
hose to her mask—Ah,
normal breathing!! Thank you!!—and
the clips connecting her ankle cuffs and arm sheathes. She
struggled, but couldn't prevent them from attaching
chains to all four restraints and pulling her into a loose, face down
were strings of small floats on the chains—glowing globes in
tiny nets—and as a result, she
drifted in the dark, warm water, rather than having the chains
drag her to
raven-haired, pale-skinned Koi, with large, mottling patches of
orange, black, and white scales.
sort of salmon or trout, with brown hair and skin, gray-green
scales with dark spots, a pale throat and underside, and a pink blush
to her cheeks that also ran in a band down her flanks.
- A blonde
goldfish with bronze dorsal scales and a ventral counter-shading of
redhead tigerfish with copper scales broken on the dorsal surface by
was at least ten feet overhead; and the pool floor, strewn
rocks, sand, and more of the glowing crystals, was about five feet
below. Amanda could see
addition to the mermaids, in the form of
shoals of large fish swimming among the rock formations and exploring
various crevices and caves. Pool
and aquarium, Amanda amended
her previous assessment.
something warm and delightfully tingly was gliding down
spine. She looked back over her shoulder, and through the
curtain of her own drifting hair she could see that one of the
Koi-maid, was running some sort of glove with a very thin attached air
down her back. Millions
tiny bubbles erupted from the palm of
the device and gently pummeled her aching muscles. It was wonderful! The Koi-maid
joined by the trout-maid and the others—and now four
separate bubble-gloves were caressing and exploring Amanda's
itself was heated, but the bubbling massage-gloves even more
the mermaids were obviously quite expert in the art of massage.
Captivity and strange,
aside, it was just what Amanda's aching body needed. She squirmed
and shivered in her bonds, drifting in the dark
water. Fear, anger, discomfort—all that could
wait. The gloves caressed her back, shoulders, neck, arms,
thighs, calves, stomach, breasts—Ooh!—and sex. Two
of the maids continued their strictly therapeutic efforts, but the
blonde goldfish was spending an inordinate
of time on her
the red-haired tigerfish was focusing exclusively
sex! Amanda moaned through her gag-mouthpiece, and tugged on her
The bubbles were unrelenting, their application skilled and
She couldn't fight what the glove was doing to her, but she
tried. The massage was more than
welcome, but this calico carp-maiden had no right to take erotic liberties—no right! Damn her, and damn Petra
La Roque!! Ahhh!! It felt good—very good—and it would not stop! Orgasm was
approaching like a cresting wave, building and building to a rolling
mountain of passion, and she couldn't stop it!
shuddered, tugged on her cuffs and chains, and thrashed her
head, imparting a jerking, drifting dance to her raven tresses.
Great globs of air erupted from her regulator as
and fought her bonds with all her strength—but it was
useless. Finally, she shuddered, her body went rigid, she screamed
drifted, helpless in her bonds, savoring the afterglow of what had been
one crashing multiple
orgasm. Slowly, she became aware that the mermaids were releasing
her arm sheaths from the
floating chains and snapping them together behind her back,
reestablishing her former box-tie. Her ankle cuffs were also
then rejoined, cuff-to-cuff, also as before.
Two of the mermaids continued Amanda's massage. Manuvering her
upright and keeping her at depth, they controlled her helpless,
drifting body with one hand, and caressed her skin
with the other. The millions of tiny bubbles issuing from their
gloves tickled her skin and lifted her hair as they rose to the
surface. The other mermaids were stowing the
chains and air hoses—then they loosened
the straps of
Amanda's mask, pulled the gag/mouthpiece from her mouth—and gave her a
gentle upwards push.
Amanda slowly ascended, surrounded by a curtain of
bubbles. Her head broke the surface, and she gasped, filling her
lungs with the warm, humid air. She slowly kicked her joined
easily maintaining her position. She had to admit, she felt much better than she had before
entering the pool. She was still tired, and also
a little hungry... but the ache of her muscles was now a warm
glow, rather than its former dull soreness. And, of course, she
still tingled from
what that naughty, red-haired tigerfish had done to her.
The popping, snapping field of bubbles surrounding and tickling her
then disappeared... and Amanda found herself kick-treading in the
middle of the pool, midway between the ceiling waterfall and
the outflow from
the sidewall cascade. There was now no sign of the
mermaids, the fish populating this subterranean aquatic wonderland, or
of any other living thing. Amanda maneuvered her floating body in
spin, surveying the margins of the pool. Only one area seemed to
be designed to allow easy egress. It had a series of broad,
very shallow steps sculpted into the rock, and the area above
appeared to be flat and smooth.
Amanda dolphin-kicked in that direction, the only stroke possible in
her bound condition, and found that a broad, fully-submerged ledge
the first step of the gentle staircase. She eased onto the ledge,
struggled to her feet, and hopped from the water. She was
careful, but negotiating the steps up to the "patio" was not
difficult, despite her bonds.
She sat on the top step and surveyed her immediate surroundings.
The floor was concrete, colored and textured like sand, and there was
a "cave entrance" in the far wall, roughly the size of a double
door. It was probably
a passage leading back to the more mundane areas of Petra's Tower,
the designers had paid as much attention to making it appear natural as
they had to the rest of the "cavern". In addition, she beheld the
ominous sight of a pair of steel collars on heavy chains
attached to staples in the rock, one on either side of
Amanda turned to watch the pool. There
was still no sign of the mermaids. Are they completely aquatic? she
wondered. They weren't really mermaids,
of course, but did some feature
of their costumes prevent them from leaving the water? Did the
rebreathers, or whatever air-supplying mechanisms were built into their
masks, make them
captives of the pool? That sounded like just the sort of cruel
trick Petra La Roque might find amusing.
Suddenly, Amanda heard a scraping noise from the direction of the cave,
and turned to find
two female figures emerging from the darkness of the entrance: Petra
you enjoy your hydrotherapy?" Petra inquired. She was completely
naked. Her tan, toned body was flushed and shining with sweat,
and her short, blonde hair was plastered to her head.
Chessy was also nude and sweaty. Her long hair was damp and
auburn, and her fair, freckled skin was flushed a peachy pink.
was ball-gagged, and was also box-tied and ankle-cuffed, with
identical to Amanda's; however, Chessy's arm sheathes and cuffs were
molded from a deep bronze plastic,
and the neoprene linings and the strap
of her gag were olive-green. The ball in her mouth was a dark,
rubber, with bronze swirls.
Amanda met Chessy's eyes, and they exchanged a brief interval of mutual
"I asked you a question," Petra reminded Amanda, but her eyes were on
Chessy, and she was pointing at the collar and chain to the left side
"Hydrotherapy?" Amanda answered. "Yes, just the thing after a day
pointless, sadistic torture."
the smug blonde
Meanwhile, Chessy had settled to the ground and Petra was snapping the
collar around her throat. She knelt at Chessy's feet, pulled them
engaged a locking clip. Chessy's ankle cuffs were now joined,
like Amanda's. Petra stood and turned to face her other
you've been frolicking with my mermaids, Ms. Golden and I have been
enjoying a nice steam," she explained, then pointed to the right.
"Slither over to the other
collar," she ordered.
"Go fuck yourself," Amanda responded in a quiet, determined voice.
Petra laughed. "I have several highly trained employees, male and
female, who do that for me; but if you insist on being disobedient, I'll
buzz Ms. Dench, have her bring a double penis-gag and whip, and you can do it for me. Now,
quickly!" She snapped her fingers and pointed, again. "And
are you forgetting your lovely assistant? I can have her brought
to watch your humiliation
and degradation, and when you're finished with me... you can do her...
and then Ms. Golden. Afterwards, all three of you can enjoy a
night of extended torture—Mercy's choice, of
course, as your intransigence will have disrupted her busy schedule."
Amanda stared daggers at her smiling "employer", then shook the wet
hair from her face, with limited success. "There's no need to be crude," she intoned.
"You started it," Petra responded. "In any case, I tend to
dispense with the social amenities when
dealing with my Special Apparel employees, but if it makes you feel
Amanda snorted in disgust, then struggled to her feet and
began hopping towards the second collar and
chain. Petra stood and waited, hands on hips, continuing to smile
infuriating, gloating smile. Scowling and cheeks flushed, Amanda
reached her destination and settled to the smooth, hard concrete.
"That's a good girl," Petra cooed, as she locked the collar around
Amanda's throat, "and I do so
enjoy watching those magnificent tits flop and wobble like that."
Amanda held her tongue, refusing to be baited. The neck chains
were only a few feet in length. The two captives were close
enough that they would be
able to touch
toes, if they both stretched themselves full-length, but they would not be helping each other work on
removing their bonds. Of course,
that wouldn't have been possible, in any case, even if they had been
Petra strolled into the cave's entrance alcove, and seconds later,
returned with a
ball-gag and a
comb and brush set. The gag had a blue-gray neoprene strap,
matching Amanda's restraint linings, and its ball was like Chessy's,
rubber had silver swirls.
She sat on a nearby rock, spread her legs, then pulled the still
glowering Amanda close, until the prisoner's back was against the rock,
between the grinning blonde's knees. "So," Petra
she began combing Amanda's long, wet, raven
"nothing to say about the presence of your arch enemy?"
Amanda snorted in disgust. "You're
my arch enemy."
Petra continued grooming her captive. "But I'm not the one who allowed your
father to die. I'm not
the one who went into town, leaving the
late, great Peter Pressfield to practice a new deathtrap escape all by
himself. And with you away at school, of course, there was no one
to save him. Such a tragedy. So very heartless on Ms. Golden's
part. Lack of due diligence, at the
Amanda raised her chin to gaze at Chessy. "It wasn't her fault,"
she said quietly. "The apparatus was overly complex.
She warned him it was a
stupid and dangerous trick; told him she wouldn't have anything to do
with it. But he always was stubborn and proud. He went
with the trick anyway, in secret and alone, breaking his own, most
"All of which is true," Petra agreed, "but at the coroner's
inquest you weren't quite so
understanding. According to all accounts, you made quite a scene, and you haven't
spoken to her since."
"I was angry," Amanda admitted. "I was still grieving."
"And you're not angry now?"
Amanda gazed into Chessy's sad eyes. The cavern's strange, dim
lighting was making them seem more green than usual—and, as always—they were very beautiful. "No... I'm
not. I was over all that years
ago, although I never let anybody know." Blinking back
tears, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "Sorry, Chester,"
she added, in a hoarse whisper.
Chessy turned her face away, but not before it could be seen her eyes
were wet, as well.
"I see." Petra continued, carefully, gently pulling the comb
through Amanda's hair, eliminating all snarls and tangles. "Such
a pity. I was willing to let
you witness substantial punishment
for Ms. Golden: whipping, racking, bastinado,
the horse... up to and including nipple and labial piercing, without
benefit of anesthetic, of course... perhaps even a nice brand on her
heinie. I might even
have let you inflict the punishments
yourself. Are you sure
you aren't angry?"
"Evil witch!" Amanda growled.
Petra laughed, tossed the brush and comb aside, then reached for the
gag. "Well... The reconciliation of old friends! At
least one good thing has
come from your deciding to enter my employ." She pushed the ball
Amanda's unresisting mouth, snapped the plastic buckle at the nape of
her neck, then pulled the ends of the straps through the friction
until Amanda's cheeks bulged and the gag was firmly seated
between her teeth.
The Mistress of the Tower stood and sauntered gracefully to the edge of
pool, then hopped up onto a large boulder to the right of the
"Dinner will arrive shortly," she announced. "I'm going for a
swim." She turned and smiled at the pair of naked, bound, gagged,
collared, and chained captives. "I imagine you two have a lot of
catching up to do... quite a few things to sort out... heartfelt
apologies, emotional catharsis, exchange of recipes, etc., etc. A
resident 'evil witch' enjoys keeping you so tightly gagged, isn't
it?" She laughed, executed a graceful back dive into the
dark waters, and was gone.
Amanda and Chessy turned their heads and locked eyes, yet again—and
IN THE TOWER
Gloria hadn't even
tried to maintain focus, in the aftermath of the "Pogo Stick Ordeal"
had suffered, along with Fiona. In what was very nearly a
coma, she remembered being released from the pole, strapped to a
and rolled away. There had been a shower and scrub-down,
she was toweled off by a pair of attendants—anonymous female
drones clad head to toe
in blue latex catsuits with full-head
masks, gloves, and booties—then she was fed
some sort of warm paste from a large tube. While hardly an
epicurean delight, it had been
palatable, and she'd been very hungry—but, above all else,
she just wanted
the whole thing to be over,
so she could sleep—please! Her
teeth were brushed and her mouth rinsed, then it was back on the
the straps were tightened, and she was out the door.
She fell asleep during the next phase of her journey—then woke, briefly,
find herself back in Lizette's pink-bedroom-from-hell. She was
tossed on the
bed, someone was folding her hands behind her back and doing something—then she was out again.
awoke... and found herself still in Lizette's bed. The
was dark, save for the feeble glow of a couple of night lights... pink,
of course. Gloria yawned. She was naked... still naked, of
course. Her arms were folded behind her back and wrapped in pink,
elastic tape, from elbow-to-elbow, including her fingers
hands. A leather collar was around her throat, and linked by four
or five feet of
light chain to the right post of the headboard. It clinked
and rattled as she lifted her head and looked around.
She was sharing the bed with Lizette, who was asleep. The little
blonde was also nude, but was very
much not bound. Gloria
lifted her body further, causing her chain to rattle, once again, and found Fiona,
Lizette's left side. She was bound and collared,
in the same manner as Gloria, herself, but her chain trailed up to the left headboard post.
Pink sheets were draped and loosely tangled over and around all three
Gloria sighed, and let her head drop, causing her chain to rattle,
Lizette stirred, and yawned. She lifted her
head from the pillow and focused on Gloria. "You woke me up," she
accused, in a sleepy whisper.
"Sorry," Gloria whispered back.
"Sorry isn't good enough," Lizette huffed.
The other chain rattled. "Lizzie, don't be a bitch," Fiona
she was awake, as well. "I know it's
an effort..." Yawn.
"...but make the try."
Lizette yawned again, then smiled. She climbed over Gloria,
stood, and unhooked her chain from the headboard. "On the floor,"
she ordered, giving Gloria's chain a tug. "Now!"
"Lizette!" Gloria and Fiona complained, in unison.
"Now!" the petulant blonde reiterated.
"I'm too tired to argue," Gloria sighed, rolled off the bed, and
followed her captor to the foot
of the bed.
"Arguing has nothing to do with it, Glowie," Lizette snapped.
"Down!" she ordered, pointing at the fluffy, pink, focaccia rug
beneath their feet.
Gloria sighed, again, knelt, and settled onto her side, into a
tuck. She watched as Lizette clipped the end of her chain to an
eye bolt discretely installed in
the base of the right bedpost.
"C'mon, Lizzie," Fiona begged, "be nice."
Meanwhile, Lizette had strolled away, then returned with a roll of pink
tape and a wad of pink silk. The tape was the same as the
tight bands binding Fiona and Gloria's arms, fingers, and hands.
the silk beside Gloria's head, and the frowning Latina could now
see that it was a
probably used, and sized to
fit a petite sadist. Lizette
knelt, crossed Gloria's legs, and took a
half-dozen turns of tape around her ankles, the soles of her pointing
feet, and her knees. "You have to learn the rules," the
infuriatingly smug little
"Rules," Gloria scoffed, in a sleepy voice. "There are no damn rules. You do
what you want, when you want; and whatever you do, it's mean and cruel."
Lizette rolled Gloria onto her back and straddled her waist, then
reached for the panties. "Oh," she giggled, "I guess you do know the rules." She
stuffed the panties into Gloria's mouth and sealed her lips with
three strips of pink tape. She then used the remainder of the
roll to take turns around the helpless Latina's head, giving her a
blindfold, reinforcing her gag, and stretching tight bands under her
chin and across her crown.
"What are you doing?" Fiona demanded. Chained to the headboard
and with the footboard in the way, she couldn't really see.
"Quiet, Fifi," Lizette ordered, "or you'll join Glowie on the floor,
and I'll use that vibro-shock dildo belt you love so much to make you
"Been there and done that, you little monster," Fiona huffed.
"Sorry, Glo," she sighed, addressing her fellow prisoner.
"M'rmfrr," Gloria responded, and relaxed in her bonds. Vibro-shock dildo belt? she
mused. That doesn't sound
Lizette kissed Gloria's right nipple, then patted her
shoulder. "Now, you be quiet, Glowie," she ordered. "If you
wake me up
again, I'll be
back with a pair of clover clamps."
That doesn't sound good, either,
Gloria decided. The rug wasn't that
bad. It wasn't the warm, soft bed, but at least she
wasn't cold... for now. She heard the covers rustle, and surmised
Lizette was climbing back into the warm, soft bed in question. Bitch!
"Bitch!" Fiona muttered, mirroring Gloria's assessment.
"Hush," Lizette ordered, "and as long as we're up..."
"Insatiable little slut. I'm tired."
"So what?" Lizette laughed. "Wiggle down there and do that thing
you do so well, or I really will put you on alarm clock
"Bitch!" Fiona repeated.
There followed a period of rustling, squirming, and chain rattling,
which led to
increasingly enthusiastic thrashing, gasping,
and moaning—but, well before
Fiona earned her much-needed rest—Gloria was asleep.