Suddenly she felt another pair of hands on her buttocks, lifting her ass off the bed and wrapping Alisons legs over her shoulders. Alison was confused and feebly tried to struggle as she felt something probing her soft wet sex. How had she become so wet? The hands gripped her tightly and forced something long and firm inside of her, eliciting a groan from the prone girl. The other person, Alison noted from the feel on her legs, had tits and was definitely female. How therefore, could she have a dick? These questions blurred and were eventually forgotten as Alisons orgasm built and eventually rocked her body in violent spasms.

Alison drifted. Aware of hands on her body and then sleep. She thought she heard voices, but could not be sure.

�She woke up.�

�I told you she might. I had to lessen the dosage this time, or risk her becoming addicted. Tomorrow I will give her even less dear.�

�But won’t she realise what is happening?�

�Possibly, but by then it will be too late. She is ours now already, she just doesn’t realise it yet.�

Alison woke with a sore head and her limbs ached, as though she had been exercising. Perhaps this was more than a simple hangover after all. She remembered snippets of a disturbing dream, but like all dreams, when you try to remember them they disappear. Her head was still a little dizzy. But never the less, she eased herself out of bed and stretched her legs. She was definitely feeling a little better, but was having trouble concentrating, as though her thoughts were clogged with cotton wool. A knock at the door made her spin and she would have fallen, but she managed to grab the bedpost in time.

�Come in,� she answered in a slightly shaky voice.

�Good you’re awake. How are you feeling dear?� Amanda enquired.

She was, Alison noted, still dressed in very old-fashioned clothes, she noted for a second, although how old fashioned, or where the idea had come from, she could not decide. Although, from her demeanour, the woman looked strict and regimented, there was genuine concern in her face and the tone of her voice.

�A little better thank you, although I am still a little shaky�.

�No, you still do not look well, but I am glad to hear that you are improved. You may stay with us until you are fully recovered. Perhaps a little time in the garden would prove beneficial?�

�Erh, yes. Thank you. That would be lovely. How long have I been here? I mean, you would tell me what day it is,� Alison enquired.

�It is Monday morning. You have been here since Saturday.�

Alison was gripped by panic.

�But I have to go to work. I mean. What time is it?�

The older woman appeared to consider for a few moments.

�It is a little after nine, but if you do not mind me saying so, I do not think you are well enough for that yet. However, you may use our telephone if that will comfort you.�

�Thank you, yes. If it is not too much trouble.�

Wrapping a nightgown around her, Alison followed as Amanda led her to the telephone. An old fashioned, circular dialled antique made from Bakerlight. However, despite its age, she found little difficulty in getting through and leaving a message for her manager that she would not be in today.

After breakfast and more of the Amanda’s special medication, which had altered in consistency from milky, to merely cloudy, Amanda suggested that she might like to get dressed and join her in the garden. She apologised for that fact that Bobby had left for work already, but was certain the two girls would see each other tonight.

�Unfortunately, Roberta has not inherited my stature. I fear that you might not fit in to her clothes, you are welcome to borrow some of mine though dear.�

�That’s very kind of you, but what happened to the clothes I was wearing on Saturday.�

�While I am sure that they are all the rage in the clubs in these modern times, I hardly think they are appropriate wear for daytime pursuits. Besides, they were in a bit of a state and I have asked Roberta to drop them off at a cleaners. They should be ready soon, but that still leaves the question of what you are to wear today, doesn’t it dear?�

With that, the older woman led Alison to her bedroom and picked out some clothes for her to wear. Laying an old fashioned and very severe looking corset on the bed, Amanda explained:

�You may think me old fashioned, but I believe a woman should look after her figure. You will need to wear this if you are to fit in to any of my clothes.�

Alison was still feeling a little vague and, while the clothes seemed old fashioned, as Amanda piled garments on to the bed, she could not think of any reason why she should not wear them and so after washing and brushing her hair, allowed Amanda to help her into the clothes. At Amanda’s insistence, Allison’s hair was swept up, above her so that it formed a halo of hair, before being pinned in place by an elaborate, tortoise shell comb.

First Alison pulled on a pair of white, silk stocking, which were tied at the top with blue ribbon. Over this she pulled on a pair of white silk, knee length bloomers that were open at the crotch and were threaded with pale blue ribbon that she tied around her waist. A similar detail was sewn into the legs of the garment. After this a long Camisole was pulled over her head. Like the bloomers, these were in white silk, with lace and pale blue ribbons around the hem.

After this, Alison stepped into a pair of stout, three inch, black ankle boots, before being handed the corset by Amanda. Alison had no idea where to begin, but with the older woman’s help, she was soon grabbing frantically on to the bed frame as Amanda pulled the laces tightly about her.

The corset was, as Alison had noted, very strict and heavily boned. Although it was made of a lavender material with pale blue and white details, it was, as far as she was concerned, an implement of medieval torture. Not only did it pinch her waist, but also because its length formed a girdle that encased her bottom and legs. However, Alison had to admit that the effect was dramatic, even though she now had to take shallow breaths. She now sported a diminutive hour glass figure and her bum had never looked so trim. The best part however, was the effect that the garment had on her bust. Although she had noticed an improvement in her assets on Saturday night that was nothing compared to the cleavage that she now sported.

Then the woman placed a strange contraption around her waist that was sort of like a wire bum bag. She had no idea what this was for, however she allowed the woman to adjust the thing properly before a long, sleeveless gown of white cotton, was pulled over her head. Amanda adjusted the gown so that it fell perfectly around her feet. Like the other items that she wore, this garment was trimmed with tiny bows of blue silk and edged with lace. Next she was made to step into an ankle length petticoat. The garment seemed to have been cut with the weird basket in mind, since, like the cotton gown, it hung perfectly. After tying the waist string of the petticoat she was handed a white silk blouse, which she put on. The blouse was accompanied by a pale blue cameo, which was clipped to the high collar. Finally a black, ankle length skirt finished the outfit and, as the older woman proclaimed, she was nearly fit to be seen in decent company. The final item was a wide brimmed, black sun hat.

�A woman’s complexion must be nursed if it is to remain radiant,� Amanda enthused.

Alison studied herself in the mirror.

�I look like Mary Poppins,� she mused.

She was still having trouble concentrating and was therefore puzzled by this statement. However, it did not seem important and she brushed the thought aside.

Finally the two women returned downstairs and, after Amanda had made tea and arranged an assortment of biscuits and cakes on to a plate, the two women walked into the garden, Amanda carrying the tray and Alison clutching some books that Amanda had asked her to read to her and so, the two women spent a pleasurable afternoon, Alison reading aloud, while Amanda took in the pleasures of the garden, occasionally commenting on the occasional bloom.

Although Alison had suspected the size of the house, it was not until she took in the external view that she realised just how large and secluded the house was. It must, she estimated, have eight or ten bedrooms and the sculptured gardens were at least an acre, enclosed by a high brick wall, the neatly tended garden a testament to Amanda’s long administrations.

After lunch, which included another glass of medicine, the two women spent a pleasurable afternoon performing household chores before Bobby arrived back from work.

After tea, the two girls went up to Bobbie’s bedroom to gossip and chat about the day. Mostly, they chatted about Amanda’s old-fashioned attitude and Bobbie’s amazement that she had persuaded Alison to wear her clothes. Bobby confessed that, although she had popped into the cleaners, it would be another day before her clothes were ready. However, she would see how Alison felt tomorrow and, if she was well enough, Bobby would drive her home to change before work.

Come Up to the Lab

That night Alison woke early. She was not sure what had awoken her, but after a few seconds she heard a noise. The noise was indistinct and so Alison decided to investigate. She was still a little groggy, but found she was feeling considerably better and so she slipped out of bed and put on her dressing gown. Alison was afraid of waking the family and so, instead of turning on the main light, she took an old-fashioned silver candlestick from beside her bed and lit with matches from a small tray. In this way she could proceed without bathing the house in brilliant light.

Tentatively she stepped out of her room and tried to listen for the sound. After a few seconds, she heard it again, like a swishing sound and there was another noise that she couldn’t make out. Taking as step towards the sound, Alison realised that she was still a little weak and dizzy but proceeded none the less.

The sound seemed to be coming from upstairs and so she called out for Bobby. After no response, she tried Amanda’s name. Still nothing, in fact the sounds seemed to have stopped. She walked along the stairs until she came to the attic door, which was open. She called again before climbing the stairs.

At the top of the stairs light spilled under the closed attic door. Alison called again before trying the doorknob and stepping into the room. She was momentarily blinded by the fierce electric bulb. But the sight that greeted her was enough to stop her in her tracks.

Before her Bobby was naked, apart from a pair of stockings and a waist cincher. She was bent over some form of bar, or wood working horse, her wrists and ankles tied to the corners of the device. Bright red welts ran in deep, painful looking lines across her buttocks and, as Bobby raised her head, she noticed that the girl was wearing a bright red ball gag.

Alison was stunned as she took in her surroundings. The attic, which ran the length of the house, was huge. This would have been impressive in it owns right, but it was also crammed with the most bizarre furniture. Padded stools, with strange bars and cuffs, Chains hanging from the ceiling and walls, something that reminded Alison of a rack. Overall, she was reminded of a visit she had made on a day trip to the London Dungeon. She could not begin to guess the purpose of most of the strange contraptions that filled the space, but their purpose was obvious and Bobby, bound and gagged as she was, represented the application of that purpose.

She was so entranced that she did not hear Amanda close and lock the door behind her. The older woman’s voice echoed through the room and caused Alison to spin, nearly loosing her balance.

The older woman was dressed in a black glossy rubber cat suit, with impossibly heeled boots. She was holding a riding crop.

�We were not expecting you dear, but since you are here, perhaps you should join us.�

Alison looked from one woman to the other and was frightened by the level of lust in each woman’s gaze.

Frankfurters Diabolic Scheme

Alison woke gradually. There was a sour chemical taste in her mouth and her muscles ached painfully. She was definitely suffering from some ailment. A flu perhaps? Her head, while groggy however, did not spin when she sat up and slid off of the bed. Taking a gulp of water from the glass by her bed, she staggered over to inspect herself in the mirror. She looked pale and drawn, but she also noticed something else and she looked down to examine her wrists.

The red marks on her wrist were still visible and unbidden; a memory surfaced of her straining against the ropes which secured her wrists to a hook in one of the ceiling joists. She had been naked and standing on tiptoe. A sudden cracking noise had forced her to flinch, as pain shot through her back. Her scream was muffled by the large ball gag strapped to her face.

Panicked, Alison stripped off the nightgown and turned to examine herself in the mirror. Her back was criss crossed with long red welts that the whip had left in her tender flesh. Turning around she noted the red lines left by the riding crop and the bruises that covered the tender flesh of her breasts that had been delivered by a studded leather paddle.