When she awoke again in the morning, Joan was thinking more clearly-- and realizing that it was highly inappropriate for her to be sleeping while laying across the belly of the girl she had custodianship of! Any public inquiry into the matter would doubtless conclude that employing her ward's fleshly body in this way as a source of comfort was exploitative and irresponsible. Although Penny appeared to be unharmed, it couldn't have helped her night's rest to be crushed into the mattress under Joan's body weight.
Joan released Penny from her bonds, and woke the pretty girl up. 'Good morning!' greeted Joan, and Penny smiled.
But Joan could detect from Penny's expression that something was wrong.
As Joan gave Penny her bath that morning, Penny was obviously keyed up and distressed! Joan could tell it in the way Penny's arms and legs flexed as Joan scrubbed her down. Penny even splashed in the bathwater nervously, and Joan had to warn her to behave.
The unhappy girl didn't settle down at breakfast, either, where her moping made it a taxing chore for Joan to feed her. For the whole morning, the naked girl paced obsessively about the house, and Joan was tempted to leash her to a table leg, just for Joan's own peace of mind.
Penny also knelt in obeisance at Joan's feet two or three times an hour, much more often than was necessary. Joan found it annoying, and eventually had to push Penny away and say, 'No, Penny!' every time she did it.
Joan got quite a shock when Penny crept up on her while Joan was reading, and gave the young caregiver's ankle a bite!
'OUCH!' shouted Joan. 'Penny, what's wrong with you?" It hadn't really hurt, but it wasn't an affectionate nibble, either. Joan pulled Penny onto her lap and gave her a quick but punitive spanking.
Wack! 'forty-nine...' Wack! 'Fifty! ' she said. 'Now Penny, you had better behave or you'll get fifty more!' Penny was weeping miserably, and Joan's heart went out to her-- but she didn't know what else to do with the rambunctious nude.
Penny was nervous and miserable throughout lunch, and continuously anxious in the afternoon. She partook in her afternoon swim, but merely dog-paddled in circles around the pool without any sense of enjoyment.
Her restlessness made Joan fearful.
Was this merely one of Penny's moods? Joan hadn't the experience to tell. But she couldn't help thinking that it had something to do with their bed-sharing last night. Perhaps Joan had gone too far with the teasing while poor Penny had been helplessly spreadeagled. Maybe Joan had been going too far all along, with the cuddling and teasing and spanking. She had paid no heed to the long-term effects this would have on poor, innocent Penny.
Joan studied Penny while she cooked supper. Was her 'Penelope' persona, the skilled gourmet, a bit more tense and inpatient than before? Did she make more liberal use of the cooking sherry? The results were superb, but noticeably more spicy than any repast she'd before produced.
Nor did Penny settle down after their delicious meal. Instead, she paced the length of the living room, distracting Joan from her TV viewing.
Finally, Penny went up to Joan and stood before her.
'Penny go on swing,' the nude young woman said.
Joan was puzzled. 'Alright, dear, but I didn't know we had a swing.'
Penny stood there, clearly agitated. Then she reached out and tugged at Joan's shoulder. 'Penny go on swing,' she said, almost in tears.
'Alright, dear,' responded Joan. 'Show me. I can't help unless you show me.'
Penny pulled Joan over to the house's side door that led to the garage.
'You want to go out?' Joan asked. 'Penny, all the parks are closed at this time of night-- we can't go on any swings!'
'Penny go on swing,' the young woman insisted.
'Alright, dear, but we'll need to dress you and leash you. I'm not about to go breaking the rules!'
When she had Penny collared and leashed, and had given her a loose cottom pullover to wear, Joan led Penny out in the twilight to the car.
On the street, Joan prompted Penny to point which way they should go. She indicated the right, which took them downtown. Joan turned and started down the boulevard.
'Penny go on swing,' said the pretty girl happily to herself as the car picked up speed.
'What's so special about this 'swing' anyway?' thought Joan. 'She's got an olympic-length swimming pool and a whole room full of exercise equipment!'
After several minutes, Joan said, 'We're heading into a rough part of town, Penny. Are you sure you know where you're going?'
Penny pointed straight ahead. 'Penny go on swing!' she said.
'I know, I know,' said Joan. 'Penny go on swing! I heard you already!'
Joan's concern that they were driving aimlessly was answered several intersections later when Penny pointed down a road to the right. 'Swing! Swing!' said Penny.
They were entering a gritty, industrial part of the city that Joan could hardly associate with parks or children's playgrounds. Maybe Penny had a few screws loose-- but she continued murmuring, 'Penny go on swing!' with eager anticipation.
Suddenly Penny cried out 'Swing!' and pointed. Joan put on the brake.
Penny was indicating a small, aging motel facility tucked between two factory buildings. It promised 'heated pool' and 'cabal TV' (sic!) The 'vacancy' sign was lit.
But what startled Joan was the name of the place-- 'Lady Sappho's Luxury Lesbotel!'
...
Checking in, Joan was actually grateful that the proprietor was a 60'-ish overweight bald man. Under the circumstances she would have had difficulty maintaining eye-contact with a bull-dyke type.
'By the hour or all night?' he asked.
'All night,' said Joan.
'That'll be $100, payment in advance, please.'
'Tell me,' ventured Joan, 'Are there any swings around here? I know it sounds odd, but...'
'A fully-equipped room, with swing, is $145,' he said matter-of-factly.
'Alright, I'll take it,' said Joan.
She gave him the charge card that Mrs. Paul had entrusted to her for household expenses. She wondered fleetingly how Penny's guardians would react to seeing a charge for a 'Lesbotel' on the statement. When the clerk was done, Joan took the keys and thanked him.
Penny was waiting in the car, a beaming smile on her face. Joan got in the driver's seat and took the car around to their room. 'Ok, here we go, Penny go on swing!' said Joan.
'Penny go on swing!' echoed Penny joyfully.
They parked. Joan opened the door for Penny, who bounded out of the car, happy and excited. Joan got a grip on her leash and guided her over to the door. A turn of the key and they were inside.
As she flicked the light on, Joan quickly understood what the manager had meant by a fully-equipped room. The lodgings had racks and racks of assorted dildos, bed whips, and a collection of bondage accessories. There were collars, handcuffs, and ankle cuffs suspended by chains from the walls. Several hoists were built into the ceiling for the suspension of helpless subjects. A leather-padded sawhorse was installed into the floor at one corner, and a fully-functional inclined rack occupied another. All that was missing was an iron maiden and a salivating Vincent Price!
And over in another corner was the swing.
It was an elegantly simple design-- nothing more, really, than a large sling made of sturdy denim material, a foot wide and seven feet long, dyed black. Chains attached to the ceiling hooked into the four corners of the cloth, and it hung in the air, one end at waist-level, the other end stretching up towards the ceiling.
There was a 5-inch diameter hole cut in the cloth, near the low-hanging end.
Penny eagerly stripped off her clothes and mounted the swing. She positioned herself comfortably and swayed back and forth.
The 5-inch diameter hole was right below her bottom, and her womanhood was conveniently exposed.
'Penny go on swing!' said the happy girl.
Joan noticed that there were wrist and ankle straps attached to the four chains. Penny cooperated as Joan buckled them over the girl's wrists and ankles. Penny dangled blissfully from the chains, anticipating with an eager smile what was going to come next.
'Penny, dear,' said Joan as she headed for the door, 'I'll be right back.'
'Penny go on swing...' said the young beauty, quietly pleased with herself.
...
Joan stopped at the manager's office. 'I, um, I am in need of a certain... accessory.'
'Yes?' said the manager, patiently.
'I'm looking for a, you know...' Joan pantomined it with her hands.
'A dildo?' asked the manager.
'Yes, exactly. Where may I obtain one of those? Do you...'
'Yeah, we sell them under the counter. What kind'd you like?'
'Oh... what varieties are available?'
'We've got vibrators...'
'Hmm... yes...' said Joan. 'That sounds very nice.'
'And several novelty kinds-- one that's got Nixon's head on it...'
'Err, no, I'm not... I'm not POLITICAL...'
'And we got strap-ons.'
'Pardon?' asked Joan.
'You know-- with a belt attached, for, um...'
'Oohhh!! I get it...' said Joan. 'Yes... I think I'll take one of those.'
The manager pulled the attractively-packaged accessory from under the counter.
'So...' said Joan, '...how much does it cost to rent it for the night?'
The manager shook his head. 'Ma'm, we don't rent these things out. You have to buy it.'
'Oh.' Joan was apprehensive.
'This model here is $50.'
'So...' considered Joan, '...if I keep it, I'll be able to use it again... later on... hmmm... yes, ok, yes... uh, put it on this.'
She handed him the household charge card. Her mind fleetingly visualized the next charge statement--
$145.00-- One night occp., Lesbotel.
$50.00-- One strap-on.
She decided the expenses were quite justified under the circumstances.
END OF PART 3
(Patience is advised in awaiting part 4. The author is a slowpoke, and may indulge in some other projects in between.)