The Dream Factory (F/F) (New year, new chapter!)

[Stiletto Amore]

Chapter Thirteen - Schools out!

I woke with a start to find myself tangled up in a mess of half discarded bedding.
For a long moment I just lay there, trying to reorient myself back into the land of the living.
I was drenched with sweat and my limbs ached in places I didn't know I even had muscles,
Groggy and disoriented, my first thought was that I must have been fighting someone in my sleep.
Or something.
I dimly recalled the smell of the sea and the taste of salt water.
A vast, shifting darkness and the sound of waves crashing against stone.
Had I been sparring with a kraken?
As the fog in my head slowly lifted, more details floated back to the surface.
Bare feet.
Rough textures against my skin.
Animal skins.
Painted faces.
Pirates.
Then, like a spark catching dry tinder, the memory snapped into focus.
Apparently my subconscious had cast me as Tiger Lilly in a live action production of Peter Pan,
My mind slowly replayed edited highlights from the night's dream - meeting the Lost Boys, my capture at the hands of the bloodthirsty pirates, being marooned out on black rock, it was all desperately exciting stuff.
The climactic scene had seen me/ Tiger Lilly being chained to the sheer rock face with a gag in my mouth where I would be left to drown
To most people this was the stuff of nightmare fuel, but to a bondage loving damsel in distress like myself it was anything but.
Of course, it didn't hurt that the Captain Hook in my dreams looked suspiciously like my equally fearsome Great Aunt...
Slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, I disentangled myself from the mess of knotted sheets and climbed out of bed.
The morning light streamed through the curtains, bright and unforgiving.
That was strange, I thought to myself, it was unlike my Great Aunt to let me sleep in of a morning.
Was this some kind of test?
I retrieved my phone to check the time.

"Oh"
It was almost nine in the morning.

I was not just late for breakfast, I was bordering on early for lunch.
My pulse quickened with a pang of nervous excitement as I imagined Harriet's mounting anger
at my tardiness.
In my mind I was picturing my Great Aunt brandishing a slipper, although this was likely wishful thinking on my part rather than a demonstration of ESP.
But this image stirred something in the dark recesses of my mind. Slowly, but surely, events of the previous day began to emerge through the fog of my morning head - tiptoeing through the house, getting caught red-handed, the taste of the handkerchief as it was stuffed in my mouth, Harriet's firm hand across my backside - lions and tigers and bears oh, my!
Oh well, since I was already fashionably late, there's no sense rushing now was there?
I decided to take my time and enjoy a leisurely morning.
I began with a typically bracing ice-cold shower during which I managed to turn the air bluer than my fingers, before toweling off and pulling on my regulation underwear.
Then, came the part I enjoyed the most.
I reached for a long-sleeved white blouse, still neatly folded in its cellophane packaging.
I felt like a child tearing open a parcel on Christmas morning.
There was something almost ceremonial about dressing in a new shirt - a ritualistic pleasure that never seemed to diminish.
The polyester was stiff and unyielding as I opened it out and threaded my arms into the sleeves, before slowly buttoning it up to the neck.
The shirt collar was a little snug, but the starched band, fixed tight against my neck was a feeling I greatly enjoyed.
I’d been like this for as long as I could remember. From a young age I’d always lingered in my school clothes for as long as I could after class.
I remember that my parents had been gently bemused by their daughters inexplicable love of her school clothes, but to their credit, they never pressed the issue.
I picked out a rather spiffing looking yellow and black striped necktie from the selection on offer.
Pushing up the starched collar, I looped the scarf around my neck and tied it carefully, taking my time to ensure the knot was neat and centered.
After struggling into a pair of black trousers, which I fastened with a thin leather belt, I slipped on my school blazer and checked my reflection in the mirror.
Not bad, I thought to myself, but there's still something missing.
Then it came to me.
With a mischievous grin, I gathered up my hair and divided it neatly into two sections. I took the time to plait each side carefully, securing them with yellow bands.
Wednesday Addams, eat your heart out.
Fully assembled, I glanced at the time again.
It was now almost ten.
Excellent.
However, rather than heading straight downstairs, I decided to string things out even further by making the bed.
I worked methodically, making hospital corners so neat and crisp you could have bounced a penny off them.

I stepped back and surveyed my handiwork.
Perfect. Even if I do say so myself.
Now, it was time to go downstairs and face the music.
It was hard not to skip along the hallway with obvious glee, but I was (largely) able to maintain a dignified walking speed.
When I finally arrived at the kitchen Great Aunt Harriet was by the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee as though nothing was amiss.
Something was off.
To begin with, Harriet wasn’t wearing her academic robes.
Disappointingly, (for me) she wasn’t wearing leather.
She wasn’t even wearing heels.
Instead, she stood there - looking utterly disarming in a pair of well-worn jeans, rather expensive looking white trainers, and a sleeveless She-Ra t-shirt.
Her silver-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and she appeared to be singing along to the radio.
Harriet swayed slightly as she reached for the sugar bowl, mouthing along to the radio with theatrical sincerity.
I coughed politely.
"Good morning sleepy head" She teased "And what time do you call this?"

"Sorry Miss," I stammered "I must have slept through my alarm. Naturally, I'll accept any disciplinary measure you deem appropriate"

I was just about to bend over to accept my, much deserved, spanking when Harriet stopped me.
"That's very obliging of you dear. But really, there's no need for such unpleasantness - we're all entitled to a lie in from time to time. Now, why don't you take a seat, and I'll get started on breakfast"

I watched, somewhat agog as Harriet began breaking laying out the ingredients for a cooked breakfast - Bacon, sausage, eggs, hash-browns - it was going to be quite the feast, but all I could think about was the punishment I had been cruelly denied.
Noticing my crestfallen expression, Harriet tried to lift my mood by encouraging me to take part in a duet

“I said, maybe I don't really want to know.." she sang, pointing the spatula at me like a microphone."
Apparently my Great Aunt had something of a soft spot for 90's Brit pop.

I gave in and joined in with the next line
"How your garden grows, 'Cause I just want to fly.."
But all the time I was wondering, who was this strikingly attractive middle aged woman, and what had she done with my Great Aunt?

"Aunt Harriet?" I said, in a way that suggested I was no longer 100% sure who I was sharing a kitchen with.

"Yes, oh great niece o' mine?"

"Oh, nothing" I replied, sounding almost as confused as I felt.
Harriet looked me over, as if noticing my clothes for the first time that morning.

“Samantha—did you forget that today is Saturday? There are no classes at the weekend. You can wear your own clothes.”
I froze, my mind racing to adjust to this new improvisation.

“Oh!” I said, slapping a hand to my chest theatrically.
“Goodness gracious me,” I cried. “How embarrassing!”

Harriet arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show.

I dropped my gaze shyly, shifting my feet as though the full absurdity of being overdressed had finally landed.

“The girls in my dorm insisted,” I said, as though sharing a great injustice. “They told me that boarders had to remain in full uniform at all times—even on the weekend.”

Harriet’s lips twitched as she played along.
“I’m afraid,” she replied, “that your friends may have been playing a little trick on you.”

I gasped.
“A trick Miss?!”

"I'm afraid so"

“Oh that is cruel,” I wailed (quite convincingly I felt)

“They’re probably upstairs right now, snickering into their pillows about how they made me dress like this on my day off.”
I dabbed my eyes dramatically with my blazer sleeve, sniffing for added effect.
Harriet reached out, taking my shoulder gently.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said sympathetically. “That was most unkind of them. Why don’t you run upstairs and change into something more comfortable?”

I hesitated — just long enough to make it convincing — then squared my shoulders.
“Thank you - but no." I said with quiet dignity. “I wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that their evil plan worked.”

She gave me a knowing look.
“Very well,” she said, keeping the game going, “You may remove your blazer and tie, at least while we’re here alone.”

To begin with I was a little disappointed at the thought that my efforts to continue to indulge my uniform fetish were being thwarted, but I dutifully played along..
“Yes, Miss—er—thank you,” I replied, slowly slipping the heavy school blazer from my shoulders and draping it lovingly over the back of my chair.
I was just pulling loose the knot on my necktie when Harriet stopped me

“But maybe you should leave your top button done up,” she added casually. “It looks so much smarter. Don’t you agree?”

Yes. I did agree as it happened.
"Very well, If you insist" I agreed, pretending to sulk, but failing to conceal the glee in my voice.

“Excellent,” Harriet said, clearly amused by my comic petulance, as I folded the necktie and stuffed it into my blazer pocket.

“Now, as it’s the weekend, why don't we enjoy our breakfast and then we can go into the living room where I've prepared a little game.."
Breakfast was a surreal experience - gone was the stern disciplinarian character of the previous few days - to be replaced by a bright and shiny Children's TV presenter on a sugar high.
This version of my Great Aunt laughed, cracked jokes and, most importantly didn't believe in diets.
It was like my Harriet had been replaced by a pod person.
'They're already here!' I muttered to myself

"What was that Sammi?" asked Harriet, as she began plating me up a monster breakfast.

"Nothing. I was just wondering where you'd stashed the body"
Harriet blinked. “I'm sorry - What body?”

"I'll admit, you certainly look the part - but I got news for ya' lady - my Great Aunt Harriet doesn't sing, rarely smiles and would never serve me anything cooked in grease"

“Oh, heavens—so that’s it,” she laughed. “You think I’ve been replaced by some kind of shape-shifting alien.”

“I’m not ruling anything out,” I said firmly. “For all I know the REAL Harriet is strapped to a metal table somewhere having her brains sucked out of her skull by a giant straw"

"How ghastly," She laughed "Where do you get your ideas from?"

"Comic books and Youtube videos mostly"
Harriet chuckled.

"Hmm, that does present me with rather a tricky conundrum" harriet began

"How so?" I said, playing along

"Well, how do I persuade you that I am the genuine article - and not some kind of.. Pod-Aunt?"

"That is quite the conundrum" I concured between generous mouthfuls of German sausage "After all, you might have poisoned my food?"

"This is true - And yet, you continue to stuff your face?" She joked

"Well, it is rather good - poison, or no poison. Besides, what you don't know is that I have spent many years slowly building up an immunity to Iocaine powder by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts,"

"Drat! Foiled again!" Harriet fumed "I'll have to cancel the invasion. The Hive Queen will be so mad"

"Well, now I feel bad that I've gotten you into trouble with management"

"Don't give it another thought. It was a stupid plan anyway"

"What will she do to you?" I asked, suddenly very invested

"Nothing too serious. If I'm lucky I'll just get 50 lashes from the holo-whip"

"And if you're unlucky?"

"If Her Royal Muchness is really upset, she might feed me to her pet Chrono-Squid"

"Well, now I really feel bad"

"It's not your fault"

"Nonetheless, I would like to make it up to you if I can,"
I pretended to consider my options as I finished mopping up the egg yolk with a triangle of toast.

"Would it help if I volunteered to go back to your ship as your hostage?"

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"It's the least I could do after you've cooked me this lovely meal - besides, I've always wanted to see the inside of a Barathuunian Battle Cruiser,"

"It is a most impressive craft," She agreed "although I fear that you will not see much of it from your cell on the interrogation wing.."

"So, I'm to be tortured then?" I asked, sounding not at all discouraged by the prospect

"Oh yes. Standard operating procedure I'm afraid"

"Makes sense - And, just out of curiosity, what kind of things might they do to me?" I asked, whilst trying not to appear too invested in the answer

"Oh, nothing too out of the ordinary - they'll probably just stretch you out on the Obsidian rack, or strap into you into the chair of infinite sorrows - you know the usual boiler plate stuff"

That doesn't sound so bad. Or even half bad.
Where do I sign, I thought to myself.

"Well, when in Space-Rome.." I said happily


The rest of the meal passed in a pleasant blur of idle chit-chat, and some spirited sing-alongs,
before we worked together to clear the table (Harriet washed, whilst I dried)

“Right then,” she said clapping her hands together. “Game time!”
My pulse jumped.
In Harriet's world, this could involve literally anything - and, as we've already established, I was very much down to clown.
Behind my back I had my fingers crossed that this game would involve copious amounts of ropes and/ or chains.
Great Aunt Harriet led the way into the living room,
I followed her with what I hoped was a dignified stride but was almost certainly more of a Tiger bounce.
The room looked perfectly ordinary at first glance, no sign of manacles, or ball gags, more's the pity but then I saw it - a familiar red and white box on the coffee table.
My heart did a strange little stutter.

“Monopoly?” I said, trying and failing to hide my disappointment.

Harriet gestured grandly, as though presenting a lavish game show prize “Monopoly!”
I stared at it. Then at her. Then back at the box.

“Oh,” I said.

I tried to sound neutral. I really did. But there’s only so much enthusiasm you can summon for a game whose primary appeal is teaching children about the soul-crushing misery of capitalism and the abject failure of trickle down economics.
Don’t get me wrong, I don't hate board games per say. I even like Monopoly, in small doses and in the right company. But after all that buildup,.. well it felt like a bit of a let-down.
I must have made a face, because Harriet laughed.
“You're disappointing?” she teased.

“Maybe a little,” I hedged carefully. “It’s just that I was… hoping for something a little more… interactive.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding as though I’d confirmed a theory she'd been working on.
Harriet sat on the sofa and crossed her legs.

“Well, why don’t you reserve judgement until after you open the box?” She suggested.

I shrugged and did as instructed, lifting the lid and peering inside.
At first glance, everything looked normal. The board, stacks of colorful money, little plastic houses and hotels rattling around in their bag. All were present and correct.
But then I froze.
Nestled among the familiar assortment of tokens and chance cards was a pair of full sized, stainless steel handcuffs.
And they were the real deal too.
Not toy ones.
Not novelty fluffy pink ones.
But honest to goodness, police issue restraints from late last century.
I looked up at Harriet.
She was watching me closely, her expression undeniably one of amusement.

“Well?” she prompted, "what do you think of the game now?"

“I—” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat.

“I should probably explain - in my version of the game,” Harriet , “every time a player goes to jail, they get locked up - for real!.”
Something inside me lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I take it that you approve?" She teased.
I nodded happily, mouth agape rather like a codfish.

"Holy Parker Bros Batman!" I exclaimed in my best Burt Ward impression.

She arched an eyebrow. “Yes. I rather suspected that you might feel that way”

I turned the cuffs over in my hands, admiring them.
They were cool to the touch and surprisingly heavy.
I felt a little light headed and undeniably giddy
When it came time to choose tokens, I reached for the scottie dog without hesitation, whilst Harriet selected the top hat.
Freud would likely have had something about these choices, but I chose not to read too much into it.
We sat opposite each other, on the floor and began setting up the board.
Harriet was the banker - naturally.
As you can probably imagine, the stakes being as they were, every roll of the dice felt absurdly important. I shook them longer than necessary, enjoying the build up, before letting them tumble, noisily across the board.
To all intents and purposes, it was the same any other game of Monopoly. Buying and selling properties, winning and losing beauty contests etc - but every time someone’s token crept closer to the dreaded corner square, my stomach fluttered.
In the end, it was actually Harriet who went to jail first.

“Oh dear,” she said mildly, as she rolled the five that landed her piece squarely on the accursed space.
She stretched her arms out in front of her, wrists together as though this were nothing unusual.
“Would you care to do the honours?” she asked playfully.

I swallowed. Hard.
“Oh. Erm, Yes, Of course” I said, tripping over my words

My hands were shaking as I reached for the cuffs, whilst Harriet remained as calm and composed as ever.

“Tie me up and I’ll confess, a thousand ways that make you statuesque.” She crooned in a more than passable English accent that made my insides melt.

After taking a brief moment to compose myself, I placed the cuffs around her wrists and snapped them shut.
Smiling, Harriet held up her manacles as though she were modelling the latest piece of an exclusive jewellery line.
I was enchanted by the scene.
Even shackled, there was something undeniably regal about my Great Aunt.
She looked like a captive Warlord locked up in a tower, unbowed and entirely confident in her own power despite her bonds.
Sadly—for me, at least—her incarceration was short-lived and on her very next turn, she rolled a double.

“Be a dear?” she said lightly, holding out her wrists.
With a small pang of disappointment I unlocked Harriet from her cuffs.
Still, the thrill lingered.
It took several more turns before my own token met with a similar fate.
When it did, my heart practically leapt into my throat.

I tried not to look at Harriet as I held out my hands.
The cuffs were cool against my skin as she closed them around my wrists. The click sent a jolt of excitement straight through me.

"They're a little loose,.. I could probably escape from them if I tried.." I lied

"Really?" She replied in a sceptical tone "Well, we can't very well have that now can we..?"
I tried to remain calm as I felt the mechanism tighten around the starched cuffs of my blouse
and pinch into my thick wrists.

"Are you sure that's okay?" Harriet asked sympathetically, "I can loosen them up a little if you need"

"No! - That is to say, it's fine - honestly!"

"Well, if you're sure.."
I assured her that I was. Very sure indeed.

"Glad to hear it. My roll then, I think,.." She sad taking up the dice once more.

In the end, I failed on three separate occasions to roll a double, so I remained locked in the cuffs for close to ten minutes. Suffice to say, I was in a state of quiet ecstasy throughout.
Finally, it came time for me to be released.
I smiled with little conviction as Harriet finally unlocked me from the cuffs.

"Don't worry," She taunted "With the recidivism rates being what they are, I'm sure you'll be back in jail before you know it"

"You'll never take me alive copper!" I insisted, before rolling a seven placing me squarely on Broadway.
To be more precise, on Aunt Harriet’s Broadway.
The rent was so astronomical it almost made my eyes water.
I slowly counted out the money into Harriet's hand.

"Thank you kindly" She said, before adding them to her already impressive pile of bank notes.

"So, I was thinking.." I began nervously, as Harriet passed GO again, earning herself yet another 200 dollars

"Oh, yes?" She said, taking the money from the bank

"Well, wouldn't it make the game even more exciting if there was a forfeit for the loser?"
Harriet smiled.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" She asked teasingly

A slow grin spread across my face as I leaned forward, conspiratorially.
‘Well, I may have one or two ideas.."

[Beaumains]

Nice continuation, and it is interesting to see how the relationship between Sam and Harriet evolves. Luckily for the readers, I have to assume that Sam loses.

[Stiletto Amore]

Nice continuation, and it is interesting to see how the relationship between Sam and Harriet evolves. Luckily for the readers, I have to assume that Sam loses.

Thanks for the encouragement - so glad you're still enjoying the story
Haha! Well, whilst I'm wary of getting into spoiler territory, I think it's a pretty safe bet to assume that our girl is unlikely to come out on the winning side of this game
I guess the only question is:
1) What is the forfeit Sam has planned
And 2) Just how long will she wait before taking a dive and rendering herself bankrupt so she can be 'subjected' to it?