by Van   © 2003
—Chapter 7
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Maggie and Jane cuddled together in the steaming, bubbling water of the hot tub, their hands exploring one another's naked bodies, their tongues licking, their lips suckling, their teeth playfully nibbling.  Finally, Maggie broke contact and gently pushed her shorter, younger lover away.  "Enough, you greedy little minx," the grinning redhead complained.  "Let's go inside.  I'm melting."

"Isn't that the usual reaction of a Wicked Witch and water?" Jane purred and pressed forward.

Maggie laughed and pushed her away again, then climbed out of the tub.  Steam rose from her pale, freckled, dripping body as she pattered to the nearby garden table and fumbled through the pile of terry cloth until she found a towel, then began drying herself.  Jane watched (with leering appreciation) from the tub.  Maggie wrapped the towel, turban-style, around her damp hair, then pulled on a robe and cinched it closed.  She smiled at Jane and nodded towards the chastity belt, waiting on the table beside the remaining towel and robe.  "Get out of there so I can lock you back in this thing," she ordered.

Jane pushed away from the near side of the tub and reclined against the opposite, favoring her lover with a coy grin.  "Not so fast, Old Lady," she said.  "You may have forgotten the rules, but I haven't.  You've kept me totally tied up for three full days, not letting me get any exercise... so that means I get to challenge. "

Maggie smiled back.  "I would have let you get some exercise if you'd asked."

"Very funny," Jane pouted.  "And how could I ask for anything?  You kept me gagged all the time."

"Not all the time," Maggie objected.

"Near enough!" Jane responded.  "I challenge!"

"I ought to just wrestle you to the ground, tie you up, and lock you in the kennel for the night."

Jane smiled sweetly.  "But you won't, will you?  Your sense of fair play won't let you."

Maggie grinned.  "No... I suppose it won't... but don't be so smug.  You haven't won yet.  What'll it be?  Cards?  Dice?  It's a little late for chess."

Jane surged through the water, back to the nearest side, then settled her chin on her hands on the tub's edge.  "A riddle!"

"A riddle?  Aren't we feeling confident.  I always win at riddles."

Jane's smile became coy.  "You usually win at everything, but I've had a lot of time on my hands to think recently.  Here it comes... What is wetter, the more it dries?"

Maggie's grin turned to a moue of concentration.  "What is wetter...  the more it dries?" she whispered under her breath.

"Five seconds," Jane announced.

Maggie continued thinking.

"Ten seconds!" Jane crowed.  "I win!"

Maggie smiled.  "That was never ten seconds, and the answer is: a towel."

"That was ten seconds, and you know it, and I win! "

Maggie sighed and regarded her gloating lover with hands on hips.  "I'm such an easy mark," she muttered.  "Okay, I'll let you win this one.  What do you want me to—"

"Silence, sniveling slave!" Jane barked.  "Remove that robe!"

Maggie sighed again, grinned, and removed her robe as ordered, dropping it back on the table.

"The towel too!"

Maggie removed her turban and shook out her damp auburn mop.

"Hands atop your head!" Jane ordered, and Maggie complied.  "Elbows back!  I want to see those Witch-titties point! "

"Don't press your luck, Little One," Maggie warned through clenched teeth.

Jane's smile broadened, and she climbed out of the tub.  "Not so much fun when you're the one on the bottom, is it?"  She stood before her taller, older lover, hands on hips, a gloating smile on her impudent face, steam rising from her nude, well-toned, perfect young body.  "Well... don't just stand there, slave.  Towel your mistress dry and get her robe.  It's cold out here."

It was indeed cold.  Maggie's pale skin was covered with goose flesh and her nipples were rock hard.  She shivered as she toweled Jane's body and held her robe for her.

"Get the sash from your robe," Jane ordered, and once again Maggie complied, pulling the long, narrow, terry cloth strip from her robe's loops and handing it to her "mistress."  Jane accepted the sash and traced an orbit in the air with one finger, indicating Maggie should turn around.  The grinning redhead sighed and turned, then crossed her wrists at the small of her back, anticipating her next order.  Frowning in concentration, Jane bound Maggie's wrists, interlacing the loops and pulling them snug, then tying a final square knot, well away from Maggie's fingers.  "There... that'll hold you."

"It's too tight," Maggie complained.

"Big baby!" Jane accused.  "It's only to get you into the house.  Now, walk!"

"Don't leave your belt out here," Maggie called over her shoulder.  "It'll rust when the morning dew falls."

"Hey!  Don't give your mistress orders, slave," Jane mumbled (but did gather up her belt, its key, Maggie's sash-less robe, and the damp towels.)  Maggie waited patiently at the door, then hurried inside when her "mistress" turned the knob and held it open.  "On your knees," Jane ordered, and Maggie complied.

The naked redhead watched as Jane wiped her chastity belt with a kitchen towel, set it on the counter, and tossed the wet towels and robe in the general direction of the laundry room door.  She twisted her wrists in their comfortable but tight bonds and glared defiantly at her perky captor.  "What are you going to do with me?" she demanded.

'Brave Feisty Captive'... That's my favorite," Jane cooed, smiling down at her prisoner.  One hand in Maggie's damp hair she pulled the 'Defiant Damsel's' head back and kissed her coral lips.  The kiss lasted a very long time, with the 'Evil Kidnapper's' free hand exploring Maggie's breasts and teasing her flushed nipples.  Jane finally ended the kiss, but her hand remained tightly clutching Maggie's hair.  "What am I going to do with you?" Jane whispered.  "I'm going to tie you up so tight you can't twitch and keep you that way forever; and you're going to earn your keep by licking my pussy whenever I feel like it."

Maggie suppressed a smile and remained in character.  They both knew a 'challenge' of this sort only lasted for twelve hours, but she'd let Punkie have her fun.  "You'll never get away with this," she muttered, scowling up at her smiling captor.

Jane laughed and hauled Maggie to her feet, then gave her a shove towards the interior of the house.  "Of course I will," she said.  "No one knows you've been kidnapped, you won't escape my ropes, or my chains, or my dungeon.  Uh... not that way, darling.  Your bedroom."

Maggie turned in mock outrage.  "My bedroom?  You're going to have your wicked way with my poor defenseless body in my very own bed?  You monster!"

"It's my bedroom, now, slave," Jane gloated.  'I'm taking over everything.  From now on you'll be the one tied to trees and locked in cages and in tiny concrete kennel-dungeons and forced to pleasure her cruel, selfish, merciless, dominating kidnapper-mistress."

Maggie grinned and turned her steps towards her bedroom.  "My bed is the biggest bed in the house," she noted.

"Hey!" Jane objected, pattering after her captive.  "Aren't you paying attention?  It's my bed now!"

"Of course it is, darling," Maggie called back over her shoulder.

—Chapter 7
Dawn found Bess sprawled on her stomach, once again in the tangled sheets of Jennifer's loft bed, her hands still locked in "Slave Mitts," but otherwise nude, unrestrained... and happy.  The "Wonder Woman strait-jacket" and its supplemental restraint harness were a tangle somewhere on the floor beside the bed.  Jennifer was asleep on her back, one knee folded and the other leg straight and warm against Bess' thigh.  One arm was gracefully raised and touching the bed's headboard, the other languidly extended to the side and across Bess' back.  Bess slowly, carefully raised her upper body onto her elbows and gazed down at her slumbering hostess... and lover.

Jennifer's tan face was half obscured by her tousled hair.  Bess smiled.  She looks like Andromeda, she mused, remembering Maggie's famous sculpture, for which Jennifer had been the model... only... she's more relaxed... but then, she's not chained to a wet rock waiting to be devoured by a sea monster... so I guess she ought to be relaxed.  Jennifer stirred slightly and her lips moved soundlessly... then she was still once again.   Beautiful, Bess sighed.

Bess dropped her gaze to the smooth plastic mitts that made it impossible for her to grasp or manipulate almost anything, the Star Fox prototype props Maggie had locked on her newly arrived and unsuspecting self... a day and a half ago?  Was it really been only that short a time since she'd reported to Maggie's hilltop mansion for duty, to expedite preproduction on Broadside Studio's latest epic... to begin her new and totally unexpected career as a nude model... and helpless plaything?

Bess sighed and lifted her gaze, to find Jennifer smiling at her through half opened eyes.  She leaned close and kissed the tall, nude, beautiful brunette.  "Morning," she purred.

"Morning," Jennifer answered, smiling up at her semi-helpless guest.  Still languidly stretched on her back, she reached up and gathered Bess' right mitt in her hands.  "I wish you'd let me cut these things off of you," she said.  "It would serve Maggie right for playing such a mean trick."

Bess smiled, pulled her hand free and used the slick, glossy plastic of the padded mitt to lightly rub Jennifer's left nipple.  As she watched, the brown teat responded, slowly growing rigid and erect.  "The last thing I need to do is set the Star Fox schedule back by destroying props."  She leaned close and gave the pointing nipple a languid lick (eliciting a delightful shudder from its owner.)  "She still has several new designs to finish."

Jennifer pulled Bess into her arms and they kissed again.  "Breakfast?" she suggested, and Bess nodded.  They pattered down the stairs, shared the bathroom (Bess with Jennifer's assistance, of course), then continued into the kitchen.

"Aren't you getting dressed?" Bess asked her equally nude host.

Jennifer smiled, reached back and gathered her hair into a ponytail, and snapped a rubberband around her glossy brown tresses.  (Bess watched Jennifer's pointing breasts as this task was accomplished... and Jennifer watched Bess.)  "As a show of solidarity, I've decided to remain 'naturalist.'"

"Solidarity forever!" Bess laughed.  "Let's organize.  I hereby declare the creation of... the International Union of Damsels!"

Jennifer's expression turned skeptical.  "The I.U.D.?"

"Good point," Bess conceded.  "Let's form an ad hoc committee to study the issue of considering the possibility of finding a new name."

"Moved and seconded," Jennifer agreed as she prepared some coffee.  "Eggs and bacon?  Muselix?"

"Let's keep it light," Bess suggested.  Jennifer nodded and poured two small bowls half full of cereal.  She then sliced a pair of peaches, added them to the bowls, and added some milk.

"Were you serious about being willing to model for me?" Jennifer asked as she fed Bess and herself.  Bess nodded.  "I have a fantasy piece I'm working on, an illustration for a new book.  A woman goes biking in the country—"

"Dirt bike or street bike?"

Jennifer laughed.  "A proper lady's touring bike, of the pedal powered variety, and she's wearing a pretty, frilly sundress.

Bess grimaced in mock disgust.  "That sounds absolutely... girlie! " she complained, "but what's so fantastic?"

Jennifer took a sip of coffee then held the mug for Bess.  "She makes a poor choice of picnic sites and gets captured by faeries—the tiny , mischievous imaginary kind," she added hastily.

"What do they look like?"

Jennifer smiled.  "Oh... action figure size, naked, female...  Imagine tiny swimsuit models with butterfly wings."

Bess laughed.  "All with exotic but tasteful makeup and hair, flower garlands, twinkling pixie dust?"

"Exactly," Jennifer confirmed, "except for maybe the pixie dust... and they have our heroine tied to a tree with braided vines.  They're conjuring a spell to pull her into the Faerie Queen's Magic Realm, to turn her into one of themselves."  Jennifer's smile faded as Bess sighed.  "What's wrong?"

Bess sighed again.  "So I get lashed to a tree?  'I'm not like Maggie.'  Yeah...  Keep telling yourself that." Her smile returned, and she gave her new friend a saucy wink.

Jennifer laughed.  "Go use the 'Little Damsel's Room' if you need to, while I clean up," she instructed.  "Take your time.  I'll be in to help."

"Ever the perfect hostess," Bess muttered, blew a coy kiss in Jennifer's direction, and headed for the bathroom.

Jennifer watched Bess' strong, graceful, disappearing back, then grabbed the phone.  She hit a speed dial number, cradled the handset on her shoulder, and carried the bowls and coffee mug to the sink.  "Hi, Janey.  Is the Dragon Lady handy? ...What?"  Jennifer laughed.  "Well, I need to talk to her about 'Slave Mitts.'"
—Chapter 7
Maggie explored her bonds for what felt like the millionth time.   I should never have given her that damn Shibari book for Christmas, she decided, wiggling her arms against the bands of rope and diamond hitched strands pinning them to her sides.  She had to admit Punkie had done a thoroughly professional job of rendering her helpless.  Everything was tight enough to make escape a laughable impossibility, but not tight enough to do her any harm... Not that any of it's exactly comfortable.

She was on her stomach, on her own bed, her arms folded across the small of her back, her ankles crossed and tied to her wrists.  In addition, everything was hitched and cinched, making every squirming action an exercise in rope-on-rope and rope-on-skin tension and constraint.  There were at least  four ropes tied through her bonds and stretched to the bed's  side rails on either side.  Rolling and wiggling off the bed was not an option.  At least she took out the gag, Maggie mused, yawning and turning her head to rest her left cheek on the warm, damp sheets.  The ring gag she had worn through most of the night was on the bed before her, waiting atop the double wet spot of Maggie's drool and her young captor's abundant vaginal discharge.

Little sadist!  Maggie knew that eventually (after being released and given a chance to stretch and shower and plot a suitable revenge), she would look back on the previous hours (and her current predicament) with proper perspective... but that would be in the future.  Maggie sighed and pulled on her wrist bonds with frustrated irritation, causing rope strands to bite into her pale, freckled skin from shoulders to thighs.  She really is getting good at this, the captive noted, the little sadist.

The sadist in question sauntered back into the bedroom.  She was dressed in running clothes: trail runners, anklets, spandex running shorts, and a light fleece jacket, all in various muted earth tones.  "Miss me, darling?" the brunette inquired, flashing a cheeky grin.

"You're going to regret this," Maggie muttered, lifting her head from the sheets to glare at her captor.

Jane strolled over and ran her hand along Maggie's shoulder and back, then lightly slapped her right buttock.  "You still have a couple of hours to go before I'm supposed to let you go," she said.  "Don't make me get mean."

Maggie continued glaring at her young lover (but found herself suppressing a smile.)  "'Mean'... Just you wait.  I'll show you mean. "

Jane (smiling sweetly) pulled something on a silver chain out from under her jacket.  She leaned forward and dangled a small medallion before Maggie's glowering face.  "This is the key to the 'Slave Mitts' you have locked on 'Bessie,' right?"  The steel medallion was shaped like an upside-down teardrop, and the point was a slender cylinder with two horizontal grooves.

"What are you going to do?" the squirming captive demanded.

"That phone call was from Jen," Jane explained.  "She wants me to bring out the key.  This key?"  Maggie nodded.  "Good... I'd hate to have had to torture its whereabouts out of you."  She tucked the medallion and chain back under her jacket and sat on the bed, then began combing her prisoner's hair with her fingers.  "Apparently that black-haired little bitch really is seducing Jennifer.  Jen wants me to bring it over around noon... but I'm going to sneak over there with it now... which means I have to decide what to do with you. "

"Make sure you don't damage the mitts," Maggie mumbled, "and if you let me go right now, I promise your pay back for keeping me tied up like a pretzel and making me service you all night will be... restrained."

Jane laughed, reached into the pocket of her jacket, and produced a roll of translucent medical tape.  "Now where's the fun in that?" she asked as she began pulling long strips of tape free from the roll and tacking them by one corner to one of the ropes pinning Maggie to the bed.  "I'm going to gag you now, darling.  If you cooperate, I'll just seal your pretty lips with a nice comfortable layer of tape.  If you don't cooperate, the ring gag goes back in, a week's worth of dirty panties get stuffed in your mouth, and then the tape goes on.  Give me a lot of trouble, and I'll go get one of your hoods or head harnesses and we'll go for 'full-body pretzel.'  Well... what's it gonna be?"

Maggie sighed.  "You were warned," she muttered, then pursed her lips.

Jane laughed and began plastering strips of tape over her lover's pouting lips, first a single horizontal strip, then a pair of diagonals centered over her mouth and running from her cheekbone to under her chin, then three carefully layered horizontal strips.  "Such a good girl," Jane cooed as she smoothed the tape with her hands.  "When I get back we can discuss exactly when and if I'll be letting you go, okay?"

Maggie squirmed in her bonds and glared at her captor, mewing through the tape covering her lower face.

Jane smiled, stood, walked to the closet, and returned with a folded blanket.  She shook it out and covered Maggie's hog-tied form.  She then fluffed a pillow and placed it under her captive's tape-gagged head.  "Tah-tah-for-now, darling!" she giggled... and was gone.

She really is jealous, Maggie realized, silly kid.  She snuggled against the pillow and closed her eyes, trying to doze... but she could tell the growing discomfort of her bonds was going to make that difficult.  Jealous little Punkie... that's cute... or will be once I get out of her ropes.
—Chapter 7
Bess snuggled her back against the smooth, hard wood of the column supporting one of the roof trusses of Jennifer's studio.  There were three other such columns in the great room, all peeled logs, sanded and sealed.   I can't believe I let her do this to me, the chagrined captive mused.  She looked down at the plunging neckline of the sleeveless, floral-print wrap dress now clothing her no longer nude form.   Well... I guess it's two steps forward, one step back.

After breakfast and her visit to the Little Damsel's Room, Bess had stood patiently while Jennifer dressed her in frilly white bikini panties, a strapless push-up bra, the wrap dress, and open-toed sandals.  Jennifer then led Bess to a full-length mirror and stood behind her with an amused smile while Bess posed and admired herself.

"If you're waiting for a chorus of 'I Feel Pretty,' don't bother," Bess said with a laugh, then turned and kissed her nude hostess.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jennifer answered.  "Now, you can lounge around before I start painting.  I'd offer you something to read, but I don't think you can turn pages with those things on, can you?"  Bess held up her mitts and nodded in sad agreement.  "I don't suppose you'd like to read a cereal box?"  Bess laughed and shook her head.  Jennifer led Bess towards the large open room in front of the loft that was her studio, and towards one of the support columns.

Bess could see the easel set up in front of the varnished post.  "I take it this is the tree I get lashed to?" she asked.  There were several coils of olive green rope scattered on the floor, a pile of silk artificial leaves, and a folded green blanket.  Bess settled onto the blanket and put her mitt-covered hands behind the column.  "Help!  Help!  I've been captured by faeries!  Oh help!"

Jennifer laughed and regarded Bess with hands on hips.  "Aren't we the froggy one this morning?  Stay there."  She knelt behind Bess and clipped her mitts together.

"Hey!" Bess complained, but maintained her distressed damsel persona.  "Release me you naked faerie trollop!"

Jennifer smiled sweetly, kissed Bess on her pouting lips, and pattered up the stairs.  Bess watched her go, and pulled on her joined mitts.  "You aren't going to leave me like this... are you?" she shouted up the stairs, "at the mercy of all these horny little faeries?"

"Who said anything about them being horny?" Jennifer called down from above.

"Everyone knows faeries are horny," Bess responded, shaking her hair out of her face and resettling herself on the blanket, folding her legs to the side.  Unable to arrange her skirt, she found she was showing a lot of leg (and probably a peek of panties.)  Of course, bound as she was, she could do nothing to rectify the situation.  She heard feet on the stairs and lifted her head to find Jennifer returning.  The tall, tan, athletic brunette was now dressed in a sports top, spandex running shorts, and was tossing a balled pair of anklets from hand to hand.  "You're going running?" Bess demanded.

Jennifer tossed the anklet ball towards the double doors at the far end of the studio, then walked to a drafting table next to a cluttered desk and pulled out a large sketch pad.  She flipped it open and walked towards Bess, then knelt gracefully and placed the pad on the floor in front of Bess.

"Oh..." Bess whispered.  On the pad was a watercolor sketch of the bicyclist-captured-by-faeries scene.  The faeries were merely suggested by splashes of pastel color and a few lines, but their prisoner was rendered in more detail.  The woman (the full-sized, mundane, merely human woman) was seated on a bed of flowers and tightly lashed against the trunk of a young oak.  The braided vines binding her looked strong and easily up to the task, and thick bands pressed her against the bark above and below her breasts; around her narrow waist; diagonally across her right shoulder, between her breasts, and around the trunk to the left.  Bess' pose was virtually identical to the captured cyclist's, but the sketched prisoner's hair was short and brown.  More vines lashed the sketched captive's knees and ankles and appeared to link to her wrist or waist bonds.  "She's one of the twins, isn't she?" Bess asked nodding at her fellow captive.

Jennifer had walked to the double doors and was donning her socks and running shoes.  "Twins?"

"In Maggie's gallery," Bess clarified.  "The bronzes of the jungle girl and the other one? the bush costume?"

Jennifer laughed.  "Oh, 'the twins.'"  She then stood and began a series of stretching exercises.  "Yeah, she's one of the twins.   Another of Maggie's models.  She's worked for me too, on occasion.  I assumed she'd be my model for this series... but that was before I captured you, of course."

"She's cute," Bess muttered, staring at the sketch.  "...I mean they're cute.  And you're good... the sketch I mean."

"Thanks," Jennifer said, then rose from a final hamstring stretch and placed her hand on the doorknob.  "You aren't too uncomfortable like that, are you?"

"No," Bess admitted, and nodded at the sketch pad.  "I'm a lot more comfortable that she is... but you're not leaving me here like this, are you?"

Jennifer opened the door.  "There is something to that 'method modeling' idea Maggie likes so much," she said.  "You just sit there and think about what it'd be like to be faerie-napped, okay?  I'll be about an hour."

Bess smiled and affected what she hoped was a heart-melting pout.  "Woe is me," she sighed, "...or is it woe is I?"

Jennifer smiled, stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her, then waved and jogged away into the woods.  That had been several minutes ago.  There was a rustic copper-faced wall clock in Jennifer's kitchen, but Bess couldn't see it from where she was.

Bess heard the outside kitchen door open and close... and a stranger entered Jennifer's cabin!  She was in her twenties, with short brown hair, was clad in olive, tan, and brown running clothes, and...  Bess realized who it was: it was one of 'the twins!'  She walked to Jennifer's refrigerator, opened the door, took out a bottle of spring water, closed the door, took a long drink... then turned and regarded Bess, a sardonic grin on her pretty, sweaty face (beautiful, sweaty face, Bess decided.)

"Uh... hi," Bess muttered, embarrassed to be found in her current situation.

The young brunette took another sip of water as she approached.  "You would be 'Bessie,' I presume."

"Bess," the blushing captive replied.

"I'm Jane."

"Pleased to meet you Jane," Bess said, managing a shy smile.

Smiling (in not exactly what Bess could call a friendly manner), Jane took a third drink, then restored the bottle's cap.  "That remains to be seen," she purred, then knelt and picked up the sketch pad.

"You're Jennifer's sister," Bess said... but was ignored.

"That's my dress you're wearing," Jane said finally.

"Thanks for the loan," Bess answered, still trying to be friendly.  "When I arrived here I was rather... underdressed."

Jane studied the sketch pad for several more seconds, then dropped it back on the floor, turned, and strolled away.  "I think that's doable," she called back over her shoulder.

Bess watched Jane stroll towards the part of the house she hadn't yet visited, the part she had assumed was Jane's room.  Apparently her surmise had been correct.  After several seconds Jane returned with a couple of folded scarves.

The youngster knelt behind the support column.  "Maggie sent me over here to retrieve the mitts you stole," she explained.

"Oh, goodie!" Bess sighed, but her glee was short-lived.  Rope was tightening around her wrists, above the cuffs of the mitts.  "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I have to make sure you're still here when Jen gets back," Jane explained as she knotted the tight, redundant rope bands, "don't I?"

Bess tested her new bonds.  "Look... there's no need for you to—M'MMPFH!"  Jane had reached around the column and stuffed a scarf in Bess' mouth and was tying a second between her grimacing teeth in a tight cleave-gag.

Over the next several minutes Jane bound Bess in place, using all of the remaining rope coils on the floor around the column, doing her best to match the pattern and techniques shown in her sister's sketch; however, she was pulling the ropes tight (tighter than necessary, truth be told.)  All during this process Bess struggled and mewed complaints past her gag... and was studiously ignored.  Next, again matching the sketch, Jane threaded the stem wires of dozens of sprays of silk ivy leaves through the ropes, doing a credible job of turning the appearance of the drab ropes into vines.  Finally, the medallion key was used to unlock Bess' Slave Mitts, and they were tugged from her hands.

After being shrouded in firm foam for so many hours, it felt exceedingly strange when the skin of Bess' fingers and hands came into contact with the fresh air, but before she could do more that savor the passing sensation, she felt the ropes around her wrists being loosened and retied, and this time Jane was being very sure her prisoner's wrists would remain crossed and useless, and that absolutely nothing important would be within reach of her fluttering, groping, sweat-slick fingers.

Jane took a step back, then strolled to Bess' front.  "There... pretty as a picture," she gloated.  Bess lifted her gagged face and watched as Jane reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small plastic case, which she popped open and began loading with fresh "AA" batteries.  Finished, she snapped the case closed and pulled out the object linked to the case by a thin, insulated wire.  Bess' eyes popped wide above her gag (causing Jane's gloating grin to widen.)  

It was a "Silver Pill" vibrator!  Shaped like an over-sized gelatin capsule, it was about three inches in length, an inch and a half in width, rounded at both ends, and was chrome silver.  Without preamble Jane knelt, reached under the hem of Bess' dress, and began fumbling with the front panel of her panties.  Bess moaned and complained, writhing in her tight bonds, but could do nothing to prevent Jane from sliding the plastic pill between her labia and wedging it in place against her clitoris.  The gloating brunette gave the panties a final snap, then thumbed the switch on the battery pack and tucked the compact case out of sight behind Bess' squirming rump, between the folds of the blanket.

Jane stepped back and watched her victim struggle and writhe.  "I've read the book this illustration is for," she said.  "The faeries' magic makes our heroine cum... and that's what turns her into a magical little naked slut with wings.  So if you don't want to be a faerie... all you have to do is not cum."  

Bess lifted her head, shook the tousled tresses from her face, and glared at her young tormentor.  Jane then stooped low and checked the key knots of Bess' bondage, making sure everything was neat and tight, and that Bess would remain as she was... until released by another.  Satisfied, she lifted Bess' chin and locked eyes with her prisoner.  Gloating blue eyes stared into frightened, glazed, brown eyes for several long seconds.  Finally, unable to control herself, Bess shivered in her bonds and sobbed through her gag.

"My, my, my..." Jane cooed, continuing to stare into Bess' eyes, "poor little conniving 'Bessie-the-cow.'" She released Bess' chin and stood, then walked to the studio's double doors, the linked Slave Mitts dangling from her right hand, then turned, and smiled.  "I imagine Jennifer's going to be quite pleased with my rendering of her tableau," she purred, "...whenever she decides to return."  She opened the door and stepped through, but paused as she pulled it closed.  "Leave Maggie alone! " she warned the writhing prisoner, then closed the door and sprinted away.
—Chapter 7

Chapter 6
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Chapter 8