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It seemed to me that it was about time for me to make some sort of contribution to the proceedings, so I pointed to the trunk lying open on the floor and suggested,  "It seems a shame to leave that empty. Do you think that we could squeeze Fifi into it?" ".  Nicki nodded and clapped her tightly gloved hands in eager agreement. Then she minced quickly to the tray of bondage materials and selected what was obviously a gag, consisting of a wide leather strap, about eighteen inches long. At about the middle it was much narrower for an inch or two, on this was strung a leather egg, about two inches in diameter and three inches long. By means of pantomime, she showed me what I was to do and what she would do. (In spite of her enforced silence and total lack of expression, provided her hands were free, I was to find that Nicki could express herself with amazing clarity.) So I took my place to one side of the door; and she, after ringing the bell, slipped to the other. In a few seconds we heard the crisp tap of Fifi's high heels outside.
The door opened. "Did mam'selle-ulb!" was all she managed to say as I slipped in back of her, grabbed her elbows and pinned them behind her, the chain between her wrists drawing taut and securing her hands. Nicki slapped the gag hard enough against her lips to make her open her mouth automatically. The egg was so big, she had to push hard to force it between her squirming victim's teeth. But she got it in and quickly drew the strap as tight as she could, stretching the corners of Fifi's mouth back in a sort of fixed grin. The expression on Fifi's face was a blend of surprise, pain and excitement. At a nod from Nicki, I forced the struggling French girl over to the table of bondage material. My silent companion selected a long strap and wound it a couple of times through Fifi's elbows and pulled it as tight as possible. Then she released the chain that ran from wrist-chain to collar, passed it under the maid's body and pulled it up and fastened it to the strap around her elbows.
Finally, she took a soft strap about three inches wide, which had a row of lace-holes at each end, passed it around Fifi's head and across her gaping mouth and laced it closed at the back of her head. The effect was to force the egg even further into her mouth and make the gag yet more effective. Fifi's eyes were wide open and filled with tears, and it was easy to see she was desperately trying to talk to beg her young mistress not to pull the lace so tight. But not the faintest sound emerged. The binding and silencing complete, Nicki stepped back and for a moment we watched our captive as she squirmed and writhed against her bonds. Then Nicki signalled to me that I was to put the captive in the trunk while she went to get something. She strutted out and I went to work with a will.
	Since Fifi was a bit larger in the body than Nicki, I had quite a lot of pleasant difficulty in wedging her into the trunk. Her pretty legs kicked and failed delightfully as I pulled the anchoring straps as tight as I could, so that from the hips up she had not the least power of movement. As I closed the lid, I took a last long look at her lovely helpless figure, silent face and eloquent eyes as she begged mutely for relief.
The lid closed and locked, I sat on it and admired the writhing, mesh-stockinged legs and pretty high-heeled feet as I waited for Nicki to return. Nicki returned, and I was impressed all over again with the ease in which she moved her eight-inch heels. She minced over to me as I sat on the trunk, carrying a very odd-looking pair of booties over her arm. She also had a notebook and pencil in one tightly gloved hand. She handed me the notebook and I read,  "Fifi kept me in that trunk for six hours. Three would have been plenty. I'm going to teach her a lesson."  "Seems like a good idea," I agreed, adding, "Girls like Fifi need lots of lessons. What are you going to do?"  Putting the note-book and pencil on a convenient table, Nicki signalled me to up-end the trunk, making it clear by her gestures that the luckless maid was to end up upside down. I couldn't follow what she was up to, but was glad to oblige and in a second, Fifi was on her head, her lovely mesh-covered legs waving protestingly in the air.
But an unusually powerful kick nearly upset the trunk, so she quieted down. Quickly, Nicki removed one of the pretty high-heeled sandals and started to force one of the booties on in its place. Obviously, it was a terribly tight fit and Nicki, hampered by her crushingly tight corset, unable even to take a deep breath through her mouth, was soon panting through the nostrils of her mask. Her lovely out thrust bosom rose and fell quickly with the shallow breaths she was compelled to take. I offered to help, but she shook her leather-covered head. Obviously, she was going to take her revenge personally. After a while, she had one bootie on and started on the other.
	They were shaped like ballet toe-slippers, with apparently, a steel bone running up the sole of the foot, around the heel and up to the top of the boot. When they were laced on, the wearer had no choice but to remain poised, right on the tips of her toes. In addition, the steel bone was shaped to force the foot into an extremely steep arch. The lacing complete, Nicki signalled that I should stand Fifi on her feet or rather toes. I did so, with some difficulty. It was obvious that the silent occupant of the trunk found the boots far from comfortable. Even when she was balanced, she showed a distinct inclination to fall over. But Nicki fixed that by standing behind her and giving her unprotected thigh a very painful pinch at each loss of balance. In a short while, the trunk was standing with apparent pride. Standing is a bad word, since the most practised of ballet dancers cannot remain balanced on the tips of their toes.
They have to shift the weight almost continuously from foot to foot, moving back and forth or from side to side, to hold their balance. That was what Fifi was doing. Taking a hank of rope from the table, Nicki pantomimed that I was to attach it to the heavy chandelier that hung from the ceiling. I missed a couple of times, but soon had a slipknot around the fixture chain. With my help, Nicki mounted a chair and attached the rope to the handle of the trunk. But to my surprise, she left a good deal of slack. Then I guessed why. With this arrangement, if she did fall, the trunk would not go too far and she could regain her balance. But, on the other hand, she had to maintain her own equilibrium and would have to concentrate on it all the time. The rope in place and the chair removed, Nicki, gloved hands on hips, booted feet tom-boyishly apart, watched her victim for some time. Even without speech or facial expression, her pride and triumph were evident.

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