Tom Brannigan wrapped his arms around her waist, scooping her up, as she tried to screech with frustration.
"Morning, Leesa," he said cheerfully. "Trying to get an early breakfast? Don't you know inn owners have to be up with the sun?"
Tears started pouring from her scrunched-up eyes as he unceremoniously plopped her on the toilet. His wife was immediately there, holding two light brown leather and steel shackles. She wrapped Leesa's shapely left ankle with one and clipped it to a ring on the side of the toilet's base, then wrapped the other around Leesa's right ankle before her husband cut the ropes and forcibly clipped it to a small ring on the opposite side of the bowl's base. Only then did he cut open her knee bonds with his ubiquitous Swiss army knife, allowing his wife to quickly and neatly pull the girl's panties down.
"Okay, darling" drawled Agnes. "Do your business while we do ours." And, with that, the two started shaving and washing. Leesa stared at them in disbelief, feeling her body redden. But they seemed to ignore the sight of her barely covered breasts and her soft thatch.
"Better get the job done," Agnes suggested, "or we'll do it for you...."
Leesa started crying again -- begging them incoherently through the gag.
"Oh, all right," Agnes said. "But remember, you asked for it."
They stood her up, ankles still clipped to the toilet base, and administered the enema. Tom had years of experience from his nursing career. In fact, it was a distinct pleasure for him after all those years of grossly overweight, aged patients.
Leesa cowered in shame until the bidet was turned on. Then it was shower time. Agnes held her shocked, shivering form from behind as Tom rehobbled her knees with rope. Agnes slowly tore the t-shirt from Leesa's torso as he unclipped her ankles. Then before she could even react to her nudity, they had cut the arm ropes, hand-cuffed her, and were hustling her into the shower stall.
"Oh my sweet angel," Agnes moaned in her ear, lathering her chest slowly. "Oh my sweet plaything...."
Leesa simply stared in dread at Tom's hard, knobby, erection as he loofahed her thighs and hips.
"Now, don't worry," he grunted, making her start as he plopped the sponge on her cunt. "I told you we're saving you for our son, didn't I? Didn't I?"
Leesa started to groan and shudder as he insistently washed her and his wife started shampooing her hair. Both exulted in her firm, shapely, stacked body. She was practically a co-ed goddess.
She was nearly unconscious when they carried her out, but came back to full realization as he pulled the tape off her mouth. Before she could react to that or the fact that she was seated on a laundry hamper, Agnes was there, her hand a clamp over the poor girl's mouth.
"No spitting out," she warned as her husband approached with two rolls of sticky white hospital bandage.
One wrapped around her lower face -- impossibly tight -- from her nostrils to her chin. The other wrapped under her chin and over her head, anchoring her jaw shut. Only then did Tom stand her up while Agnes started happily pulling clothing and accessories from the hamper.
"We went through your stuff last night while you were sleeping," the woman chirped. "You're quite a good girl, aren't you? Except...."
She held out what Leesa instantly recognized as her clubbing outfit: a simple, v-necked, aqua-colored sweater dress that was form-fitting and incredibly short. That was in one hand. In the other were her highest heels and spangly sable-colored thigh-highs. Leesa started to choke and jerk in Tom's grip as if having a spasm.
"There, there, dear," Agnes cooed as she neared. "Everything'll be all right...."
When they finished, Leesa was on the floor between them, the bandage gag still adhered to her comatose head, her legs resplendent in the hose and heels -- a section of her thighs nude and gleaming -- and the dress embracing her body, her breasts bunched in the bodice.
Her arms were behind her back, her wrists and elbows retied with thin, coarse rope. Her ankles were crossed and tied, her knees strapped together with a single leather belt.
Tom looked at his wife knowingly. "The troops'll be up soon. You sure you don't need my help with breakfast?"
Agnes touched his cheek lovingly. "Our little darling here needs you more. Don't worry about us."
"Okay," he said, and quickly left the room.
Agnes looked down at the girl's lovely bound body and thoroughly gagged face. "Now what are we going to do with you?"
The two bed-and-breakfast couples were served by Agnes in the communal dining room in the front of the rambling colonial house. She wondered where the family of three was, but because they checked in so late the previous day, she assumed they were sleeping in.
In any case, Agnes gave them their filling country breakfasts, going in and out of the kitchen -- the one room that connected to both the inn and their living quarters.
As she collected each course, she looked happily down at the bound and gagged blonde lying on the padded rubber mats in front of the cast-iron restaurant stove.
TO BE CONTINUED