In the first episode, which was written for a friend at DA, our intrepid 'talented amateur' Mrs. Emma Peel, of the best Avengers series, was kidnapped by her most formidable foe. Herein is the second part, not shown at DA, in which Mrs. Peel is peeled. Emma watched Steed waddle over to a desk drawer take out a genuine whip made from fine Cordova bull sacks. But he did have to pause and take off the collar, it was chafing his neck, something should have been accustomed to with his Bayswater Starch Collar laundry service. She chafed too, but not at the iron around her neck but at the throbbing in her lower torso. He also paused to remove the heels off the leather boots. However it may make a woman's calves look stylish, his feet hurt too much for a fashion statement now. Her throbbing was becoming impatient with his dawdling. "Got any other things to do today." She said in a somewhat annoying manner. "Lunch is still slow cooking. Here, have some of this." And he poured a glass for her then poured it into her mouth, lovingly kissing drops off her lips. But also noting the dribble that fell along her cheek line to enter under the iron shackle and into a tiny divide in the latex suit. Her eyes told him he had found the secret entrance to her new suit. "I would say it would take some time to get this off in a lady's powder room." "Plan ahead, fast for a full day ahead." She said returning to usual wicked banter with him. "No other way in then?" He asked pouring another glassful into her mouth. "uh, uh, oh, well you are a detective of sorts aren't you? Unless you have some God Save the Queen and country bit of business to attend to this weekend. I'd offer to help but I have a pressing engagement, that just came up." She felt the bulge in the panty he wore up against that divine cleavage in her lower torso. His answer was to tear the edible panty off and stuff some of it in her mouth, chew on the rest and wish he had put on the crotchless fishnet. But soon he had the crotch ripped open and was rubbing her hard. She raised one leg up onto his hip to tango with him. "How did you get out of the big toe shackle?" he whispered into her ear, pouring more Dom Perignon down into the suit allowing it to find its way around her curves. "I picked the lock with my little toe nail." Squirmed as the liquid was indeed finding its way along her heaving chest and tummy. "That old trick." he gasped as he had to pull away from her before something else came between them that should really be better properly placed. "It's going to take all week to whip that suit off you, not that I'm not going to try. But first, this damn corset has to come off. Without something filling the top what's the point?" She swayed, still shackled to the ceiling. "Okay, there's a small patch on my inner right thigh." He tore the corset off and with just bowler hat, torn fishnet, and knee high but no heel boots to wear now, he casually hurried to her again and found the patch. A press of his thumb and the front of the suit flipped up hitting him in the face. "Rule Brittania" he cried out and stepped into the breach for the glory of England and St. Crispin, whoever he was. A half hour later Steed lay on his back on the floor. The still shackled to the ceiling Emma applying a two foot massage to his lapsed member. He gave a slight squeal as she showed how her little toe nail did its job. In return he pointed his new bumberchute and diddled at her most diddlesome aspect. Her moans drowned out his squeals until he was ready for another glass of Dom Perignon. He rose, went into the kitchen to check on lunch and returned with a new bottle and wearing only his bowler. She was laying on the loveseat, unshackled and also un-latex suited. Both agreed they looked much better. He didn't bother to figure out how she had escaped. For there on the chessboard the white queen had become unnailed down and moved one place with a fallen black pawn nearby. "Your move I believe." She said accepting another glass and noting where the drops had halted in her handsome bush. He finished his glass at the same time she did. Not encumbered with her attire he picked up the bull whip. And applied it to her bush first, to dry it out of course. Then for several moments until the oven dinged ready, he tango'd her around the room, proving his skill with all the umbrellas and swords and etc in the room matched his skill at snapping and wrapping her body with the whip. She moved cat like at first, then hands and knees human, then slithering snake out onto the terrace. She rested with her head in the shade of one of the devices as he brought out lunch. He helped her aching body up onto the device. "Grilled lamb chops with mint sauce with steamed veggies." He fed her since giving her a fork and knife would be inappropriate for this meal. As she ate she became aware of the inappropriate impalement process of the device, which had rendered a substantial cut in screen time of that particular episode due to nation sensitivity. Yet the device had worked very some time before Steed arrived to save her, and now he was feeding her while the same device did its work most effectively. "How much of your family crest did do I wear now?" "About a third. The rampant lion's paws are always the hardest to apply." "Really. I would have thought it was the scroll work on your motto." "Ah, yes. 'Ever ready'." "These other things in your collection. I suppose I'm to revisit them all?" "It's called reruns, Emma." And with that he stuffed an Oriental eggplant into her mouth. And turned the device on to 'turbo'. On his return from the kitchen this time, with the desert, he happily discovered she was still riding the mechanical bull as it tried its best to buck her off its mid-placed horn. Albeit eggplant prove a useless gag. He finished off a nice cream filled eclair, lay down on the lounge seat and put his bowler over his member. He closed his eyes to take a nap. One of the things he enjoyed most about her was that even in the worst peril she always kept her sense of humor in her screams. "You are making me late for my yoga exercise!"