'You really messed things up this time, didn't you?' Carla Salken said angrily as she stood over Joan Brooklyn's well trussed body but addressing the woman sat on the sofa - a woman looking increasingly unhappy. 'You just couldn't leave things alone, could you?'

'I thought you'd be here,' protested Aunt Eleanor weakly from where she sat. 'How was I to know you'd be out? And that there'd be my niece kissing her of all people'. Eleanor Pollard gestured with a sneer at the Principal lying unconscious on the floor.

At that moment there was a groan from the bound woman as she shifted towards consciousness.

'Well,' observed Carla, 'at least she's alive. Anyone ever tell you hitting someone over the head is dangerous?'

From where she stood, tied to the stair post, Pricilla gasped with relief to see the woman stirring. She had been terrified that Joan was badly hurt.

'I had to stop her,' protested Pricilla's aunt from where she sat. 'It seemed a good idea to hit her with something. What else was I to do?'

'Try thinking first. It always helps.'

Beneath Carla's legs the bound woman was moving but finding she couldn't move as she'd like. In a few seconds she appeared to be fully aware that she was tightly bound and in less than a minute had taken in the situation. So much so she was soon glaring round.

'Ah, the bitch awakens,' smirked Carla. 'Though I expect she'll have a sore head for a while. You feeling okay down there, dearest?'

Joan wriggled against her ropes but thanks to her mouth-filling gag didn't reply, apart from a grunt. Eleanor Pollard had been too efficient with the ropes and the gag.

The Principal had no idea how long she'd been laid out cold, but it was long enough for her to be bound and gagged and Carla to return from wherever she'd been. Out looking for some lesbian sex, probably. Her head was aching painfully from the blow she'd received but thankfully there was no wetness in her hair, so there was no blood. Still, it hurt. The bound woman then glared at Pricilla's aunt, sat impassively on the sofa, her legs just slightly apart as if reminding the trussed woman on the floor of times gone by.

Carla, as usual was when angered, didn't forget her ill-temper too quickly. She rounded on Eleanor Pollard. 'Get those knees closed or I'll tie them together,' she glowered as she saw what Joan was staring up at. 'Brooklyn doesn't want to see up your skirt.'

Eleanor snapped her legs together. 'I didn't mean to -'

'No, just like you didn't mean to come by here.'

'I was looking for you, where the hell had you gone?'

'None of your business. Anyway, I thought you were with that Joe male you hang round with.' There seemed to be a hint of jealousy in her voice.

'There's nothing sexual between him and me,' frowned Eleanor, steeling herself for an old argument about to break out once more. 'You know he's just my cover. You know it's you I want. I wouldn't have done this if I didn't think that -'

'Okay. Okay!' Carla interrupted Pricilla's aunt. 'But you've made things worse. You thought you'd get away with this?'

'She was molesting Pricilla. That's the way it looked to me when I came in,' protested Eleanor. 'That's we'll tell anyone who asks that I just didn't think. I hit her with the cane by the door.'

'I get to say what's said. As far as I'm concerned that alibi would be fine if you'd tried to release the kid.' Carla indicated the child still standing by the foot of the stairs, gagged and pinned to it by the belt round her waist - a girl looking still shocked at what she'd seen but more relieved now that Mrs Brooklyn was moving, albeit limited by the ropes wound round her body, arms and legs.

'So no-one's quite going to believe you,' continued the teacher. 'You apparently knocked this child-molester out cold in her own home but left your niece all trussed up.'

'She was wearing chains,' frowned the woman on the sofa. 'I couldn't get them off.'

'Could've taken her gag out, though, if nothing else.'

'I didn't want her screaming murder,' said Eleanor, darkly. 'You wanted the neighbors to hear?'

Miss Salken took a deep breath. 'Okay. So here we have a problem. Your niece and my lover all tied up and gagged. The police will want to know how we ended up like this.'

'You don't have to call the police,' said Eleanor sharply. 'Unless you are looking for trouble.'

Carla pursed her lips in thought.

The woman on the sofa continued: 'Plus, how come you walked out on them, saying you were going to some club - assuming you want people to know that a teacher from a good school goes to a place like the Pink Feathers to pick up women for casual sex?' Eleanor stood, pulling down her short black leather skirt. 'What would've happened if I'd gone there instead of heading over here first?'

'Then we wouldn't have these two like they are - though I'd love to know why this one,' at this Carla prodded the prone Mrs Brooklyn with the toe of her high heeled shoe, 'needed to gag the little darling.'

'But she did. And I'm glad she did.' Eleanor suddenly was less apologetic, more assertive. She stood up. 'Think about it, Carla: these two played into our hands. Now we can do what we want. Above all we can be together.' Eleanor had stepped forward and caught the younger woman round the waist and pulled her to her own firm body, holding the slimmer woman to her own large bust.

Carla softened a little. 'We haven't worked out what we'll do,' began the younger woman but didn't get any further as Pricilla's aunt kissed her passionately. It always worked, they both knew. Carla's thing for middle-aged women with heavy breasts was never far away and having a pair so close - a pair that loomed out of the low cut top the older woman was wearing - was too hard to resist.

Both the bound and silenced females - the girl standing by the stairs and the woman on the floor - simply watched as the two free females kissed, hands roving over each other's asses and tits. Even more revealing was the way Carla's hand snaked up Eleanor's skirt with the unmistakable sounds of wet sex and mounting excitement from the woman being fingered left the watchers in no doubt at all what was happening.

The two broke the kiss, but Carla's hand was still high up Eleanor's skirt, though it had ridden up to be little more than a decoration on the woman's full, round hips. Equally, Eleanor had not released her grip on the younger woman's chest.

'Let's leave these two,' breathed Eleanor. 'We need to have some fun upstairs. Real grown up fun: I've waited ages for a chance like this.'

Carla nodded, grinning wickedly at the suggestion. 'It's my time of month. You ready to clean me out, El?'

'Oh, yes,' purred Eleanor as she pulled the teacher towards the stairs, leaving the bound woman on the floor and ignoring the secured child as they passed her. Well, not entirely ignoring her. Pricilla's aunt paused for the briefest moment to sneer at her niece: 'Just stay there and be good. Or you'll be in real trouble.'

---

From where she stood, Pricilla was glad at least she had a view of Joan's black pants. Eleanor had tied the woman up well, but had run a length of rope between the Principal's legs, a rope that dragged her skirt right up and although Joan's legs had been tied securely at knee at ankle there was still the view of the underwear. Similarly, the woman's jacket had come undone and her large bust was spilling out of the black lace bra.

Despite everything, Pricilla was glad of the sight. Then she began to wriggle, energetically.

She had waited until she was sure her aunt and the history teacher were deep in whatever they were doing upstairs before she commenced - and within a minute the belt at her waist slipped free. She scampered over to the surprised looking woman on the floor, ankle chain rattling but there was no shout from those upstairs.

'Plastic,' said the child quietly into her gag, even though it was unintelligible. 'Knew it would come loose if I tried.'

Joan didn't fully understand but she nodded, looking pleased. She made some noise back but the girl frowned and shook her head - her only way to tell the woman to be quiet.

Then, to Joan's eternal astonishment, Pricilla nudged the bound woman with her head as if indicating she should try to lie flat on her back, arms pinned under her by her body weight. Reluctantly, unsure how this would help them escape, Joan did so.

It took her no more than a second to realize that this wasn't any immediate escape bid. It was for pleasure. Pricilla, on her knees by the Principal's head, swung one leg over and squatted over the woman's gagged face, facing the woman's bound legs and hitched up skirt.

'Prttthhheee!' yelped the woman into her gag as the child's ass descended on to her face.

The child's firm, small blue-pantied butt - Pricilla had managed with her hands locked behind her to drag her skirt up enough - closed on Joan's astonished face. For a worrying moment the woman thought she was going to be smothered but the girl, with great skill, pressed her crotch (pleasantly damp, Joan noted) just to the woman's gagged mouth. Or did, when Joan adjusted her head enough.

Pricilla had an instinct, nothing more, about doing this. No one had shown her, she'd never read about it or even remotely seen anything like this. She was for the most part blissfully unaware that something like this was possible (though later she recalled some older girl at school saying that "facesitting is fun") and could be so wonderful. Now she knew. And it was fun.

The girl rubbed her excited, wet sex inside her pants on the woman's face. True, Joan was gagged but in a way that added another dimension to the delight. She could feel, as well, the Principal's hot snorting breath from her nose on her crotch.

Pricilla had never cum before. She wasn't entirely sure what that meant when other girl's had spoken - in whispers - about it. But this was heaven. She rubbed frantically, sensing not only a rising tide in her but a mounting excitement in the tied woman under her. The way she was sitting, she could look down at Joan's rope bound body, her bra covered heaving breasts, the way the rope disappeared between the cleft in Joan's black panties, the way ropes were tying the Principal's legs tight together.

More, Prissy felt the woman twisting and writhing as if the rope cutting into her pussy was tight enough to excite her.

Pricilla wriggled and pushed faster and harder, feeling,rather than hearing the excited moans from the woman beneath her. The girl came, her gag smothering the shout she emitted.

Exhausted temporarily, but suffused with a burning pussy-centered sensation she had never known but seemed so much a part of her, the girl sat shaking slightly. A muffled roar from the twitching woman, arching her back like some bucking bronco, told Pricilla that Joan had finished too.

In a few moments Pricilla climbed off the woman's face and smiled - with her eyes at least - down at the woman. She seemed to be smiling back and that made Prissy feel even better. She nudged at the woman again and got her to roll on to her front. The look on Joan's face suggested she thought she might be in for some more rubbing and stimulation, but this time the girl just wanted to get to the woman's gag.

Working with her hands behind her because of the cuffs, the girl managed to dislodge the knot enough and the woman struggled out of the sopping wet cloth gag, spitting it out with relief.

'Uh... Y-you're a naughty girl,' breathed the woman, her voice sounding dry and rasping. But she was smiling and winked at Pricilla. 'Now, honey, try to undo my hands.'

Pricilla, aware that the two females upstairs could be down at any moment, scrambled her fingers at the knot on Joan's wrist and for a short while wondered if they'd be interrupted before the rope came loose. Or if it would come loose at all. But it did come loose and no one appeared on the stairs, no one screaming at them to stop. From then on it was a relatively simple matter, with Joan's help of course, to get the other knots loosed.

'Thanks,' whispered Joan, sitting up and letting the ropes fall into a heap round her. For a few seconds she closed her eyes and rotated her ead, hand up to her neck. 'My head's hurting. I don't know what that bitch hit me with but it husrts.' She felt the top of her head as if fearing blood, but her hand showed none. With a grateful smile she leant over to the still kneeling child and gave her a brief kiss on her gag. 'I think, honey, we should get out of here before those two come down. Let's go.'

'My gag!' Pricilla mmphed into her sealed mouth, but the woman was more intent on getting out of the house. She wasn't, it seemed, going to waste time taking out the girl's gag. Especially not after the length of time the girl had spent rubbing herself on the Principal's face.

The pair moved out of the house as quietly as they could, Joan gripping the child's arm largely to stop the girl trying to run and either tripping over her ankle chain or moving so quickly it set up an all too obvious noise. On the driveway Joan silently indicated they should get into Eleanor's car where it was parked behind Carla's vehicle.

The door was open, the key to the engine under the vizor. Joan slid the seat belts over the girl and herself, grinned at the cuffed and gagged child next to her and started the engine smoothly. They were away from the house, clear of the drive, in a few seconds.

Joan didn't even look back to see if they were being watched, to see even if the pair had stopped their lovemaking and had run to a window. Pricilla however tried to crane round but it was impossible.

'Soon be safe,' the woman said as she pressed the gas.

'But where's safe?' grunted Pricilla into her gag.

Joan merely smiled, as if she understood. But maybe she didn't. 'Honey, it really is better if you stay quiet in that gag.'

The girl nodded and stared out of the window of the car. The streets were far from familiar but she didn't care: she was with her Principal. Her new found lover. That thought alone gave her a shudder of delight.

They had driven for over a dozen blocks, going left and right a couple of times, when Joan pulled over and parked under a tree that cast a deep shadow. 'Listen to me Prissy. This is important,' the woman undid her seat belt but left the one on the girl. It was, the girl would think later, like another layer of bondage with her arms trapped behind her back.

Joan turned to Pricilla as she let go of the seat belt. She leaned over, reached out and stroked the girl's face tenderly.

For a moment Pricilla thought the woman was seeking to tug the gag away, perhaps so they could kiss. A long, passionate kiss with tongues fencing. But it wasn't, despite the longing in the girl's eyes.

'Honey, I'm not taking your gag out for a good reason,' sighed Joan. 'And not just because we can afford to waste time kissing, as much as I'd like to do it. One thing would just lead to another and, well, you can guess even at your age.' The woman glanced in the mirror - an action she was to repeat every few seconds. 'I don't think Carla and her woman, I mean your aunt Eleanor, know where we're going but if they are out looking they may just come across us. I wouldn't want a fight on the street.

'The thing is, the gag stays because I want you to listen first and then - when we get where we're going - there's going to be a lot that's strange. We're going to a house owned by someone I know. The woman, uh, I mean the family there know me and my needs so they won't be surprised to see you like that. In fact, they'll be glad of it. Weird but true.

'This probably isn't making much sense to you, but it will do soon enough. The thing is, they'll accept me - and you - only if you're like that. You have to look, and act, like my slave.'

Pricilla tried to say "That's what I want to do" but the woman held up her hand for silence. 'Trust me and do what I say. Or what I order you to do.'

It was no help to Pricilla and she shook her head, mystified. As far as she was concerned they were far enough away from the house where Miss Salken was for the not only the gag to come out but also a few kisses - and maybe more. The child spread her legs as far as she could and wriggled invitingly in the hope that Joan would take pity and lift her skirt back.

Pricilla imagined being fingered, feeling the woman's long fingers working in her slit, making her so excited she had those incredible convulsions. It would be fantastic to just sit and feel helpless in her cuffs as Joan toyed with her, hand inside pants. Maybe too the woman would do something more, like perhaps tugging up Prissy's top and just nibbling at her small nipples. The thoughts were beginning to arouse the girl and she was wriggling more, mewing into her gag, her eyes wide and pleading.

'Honey, no.' Joan Brooklyn was probably having much the same thoughts but shook her head - though she was also suppressing a smile. 'We haven't got time for it, as much as we both want it.' But she put her hand on the girl's leg and patted it consolingly, all too briefly lifting it back and glancing at the child's pants before replacing it. Then she checked the mirror one last time and started the engine.

Pricilla moaned in disappointment but she was rewarded, albeit fleetingly, as the woman took one hand off the wheel before they began moving and ran her fingertips lightly over the girl's chest, seeking the small hard points of the child's nipples. 'Soon, I promise,' smiled the woman. But the touch lasted only a few seconds. The Principal withdrew her hand and they set off.

The house Joan was looking for was down a quiet avenue. She drew up outside a large, comfortable house. 'This is it,' breathed the woman, checking her jacket was closed properly, pushing her hair up in an effort to tidy it. 'I just hope they're ready for visitors. Pretty unexpected visitors at that.'

Taking Pricilla's arm the woman walked up the driveway. There were plenty of lights on and a warm, welcoming look to the place. Yet in spite of how it appeared, Pricilla couldn't help but shiver. Joan looked at the girl for a moment with a curious stare. 'Be brave, Prissy,' she whispered before pressing the bell. The woman stood back, still gripping the child's arm as if she owned the girl. As if the gag and chains were her idea.

The door opened. A well-dressed but slightly ruffled man stared at the them, a questioning look on his face.

'Hi Jon. It's me, Joan. With a friend.' The woman half pushed Pricilla forward, more into the light that spilled out so the man could see the child clearly. So he could see she had her arms behind her and was gagged. At once Joan half rotated the girl to show the man the cuffs, gleaming in the light from the door. 'See? A slave. My own slave.'

The man grunted and a half-smile grew on his face. Leering.

'Are you taking visitors?' said Joan, allowing Pricilla to resume her stance. 'Is Dee at home?'

'Sure,' said the man, his questioning frown turning to a big smile. He turned to call inside. 'Dee! It's your old friend Joan Brooklyn. And she's not alone. She's got a child slave with her.' A slight pause and a chuckle. 'Her own slave this time.'

'In that case tell them to come right on in,' a female voice called back, distant as if from a room upstairs. Joan, with a nod of thanks, guided Pricilla past the man into the large, wood paneled hallway - an expensive stairway sweeping up to the second floor. Pricilla felt herself blush under the gaze of the man, who closed the door behind them and a heavy clunk made it obvious the door was locked behind them.

Pricilla glanced at Joan, but she wasn't looking down at the child but up to the top of the stairs instead as if expecting someone to appear. Pricilla followed the woman's eyes. Almost at once a smiling woman appeared at the top of the stairs, an elegantly dressed woman holding a leash. On the other end of it was a girl just a little older than Prissy.

A gagged girl who had her arms tied behind her. Naked with small breasts swelling out and a thin haze of hair barely disguising her pink slit, a slightly alarmed look in her eyes as she silently stared down at the newcomers.