by Van © 2025
		Chapter 9

The Egregious & Excruciating Pretend Torture of Tori Fleet!!

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Smiling her usual dimpled and gloating smile and resplendent in her skimpy, skintight, and rather revealing spandex working uniform of shorts and sports bra, Becky smiled down at the naked, spreadeagled, bound, and tape-gagged (with tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob) global superstar Tori Fleet!

Naked, elaborately and inescapably bound with thin, conditioned hemp rope from their ankles to their shoulders, locked in obedience collars, tape-gagged (with tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber globs), and semi-suspended from steel rings and taut vertical chains, Holly, Kim, Jess, and Mattie (Becky's other victims) stared at the spreadeagled naked, bound, and gagged global superstar in question.

Tori, on the other hand, had lifted her tape-gagged (with tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob) incredibly beautiful visage and was staring at her own crotch area, blinking her incredibly beautiful blue eyes (with their trademark feline-flick eyeliner makeup).  Ominous rumblings and vibrations were emanating from underneath that particular region of her anatomy, coming from somewhere deep within the mechanized and adjustable gunmetal-gray table/framework currently holding her prisoner.

Suddenly—Ker'Clunk!—a pair of steel panels snapped open like a small double door and—Whirrrrr...—a gunmetal-gray steel something extended/unfolded from the base of the table/framework.  It quickly became obvious that the something in question was a mechanical arm.  In fact, it was a fully articulated robotic arm, and mounted on its end was what appeared to be... a wand-style vibrator?  Buzzzzz...  Yes, a vibrator!  And like the rest of the still moving robotic arm it was gunmetal in color.  Its business end was more-or-less the shape of a doorknob.  Buzzzzz...  Also, once extended, the arm was slowly curling back on itself, bringing the vibrating head ever closer to Tori's pussy!  Whirrrrr/Buzzzzz...

And then... the rounded knob made contact, pressing against (as in smushing against) and thereby marginally deforming the pussy in question!  Buzzzzz...  There was no penetration, but the dark, rounded, quivering knob had definitely achieved solid contact!

Tori's reaction was as might be expected.  She struggled and squirmed, further testing her inescapable bonds, screamed through her tape-gag—"MRRRPFH!"—and frantically blinked her incredibly beautiful blue eyes (with aforementioned trademark feline-flick eyeliner enhancement)!   "MRRRRRPFH!"

The captive superstar's naked, rope-bound, tape-gagged, shock-collared, and semi-suspended captive audience of four also blinked; however, Tori's not naked, bound, gagged, collared, or semi-suspended audience of one did not blink.  Becky Bynder continued her wicked, dimpled, gloating smile.

Buzzzzz...

"Mmmmfh!" Tori whimpered, continuing her futile struggles.

Becky took a step closer and rested the palm of her right hand on Tori's flat, firm, undulating belly.  "The Gibsons claim to have developed the computer program controlling the vibrator," Becky announced to the room in general.  Her hand began a slow, circular exploration of Tori's abs as the spreadeagled captive writhed and fought her bonds.  "The armature system was engineered by some studio subcontractor, of course.  I understand there are plastic panels that can be bolted around the base."

"Mrrrrmmm!" Tori commented as the vibration and Becky's gentle tummy-massage continued.

"That way," Becky continued, "the whole shebang can be painted in the primary color of your choice and digitally replaced in post-production.  Futuristic, Steampunk, Medieval, Rococo, Art Deco, Jet-Age-Mid-Century-Modern... the style choices are limitless."

She stopped massaging Tori's tummy and used both hands to gently squeeze Tori's breasts.  By the way, they were very nice breasts, not overly large, but firm, smooth, perfectly shaped, and in every way worthy of a global superstar.

"Anyway," Becky sighed (and began a light double-boob-massage), "according to the Gibsons, it's very difficult to guarantee a genuine crashing multi-orgasm using simple vibration and regular, predictable spacing.  Too many variables.  But, if you monkey with the intensity profile and give the subject periodic rest periods to recover... eventually you'll get the desired result.  So, Tori..."  She leaned close and smiled into Tori's tape-gagged and now slightly glowing face.  "The Gibson's machine will be entertaining you for the next few hours."

"Mrrrrr?" Tori whined in response.

"Not continuously," Becky reassured her client.  "Like I said, there will be rest periods, and the buzzing sessions will vary in duration"—she stopped massaging Tori's tits and took a step back—and the stimulation itself will vary in length and intensity."  She nodded towards her naked, bound, gagged, semi-suspended and watching three clients (and Kim, her beloved daughter).  "I'm giving the girls a day off from their training so they can watch," she explained to Tori, then her smile took an even more wicked twist.  "I know you enjoy working with an audience."

With that, Becky turned and strolled (padded) to the chamber's double doors, opened them, stepped across the threshold, then turned and paused.

"Well, ladies... I'll leave you to it."

With that, Becky closed and locked the doors.  Thud!  Click!

Back in the Chamber of Orgasmic Torture, Tori wiggled, squirmed, strained against the various straps binding her to the Insidious Orgasmic Torture Engine, tugged against the cast-cuffs encasing her fingers, hands, wrists, and forearms, and voiced her continuing dissatisfaction with the situation.

"Mrrrmpfh!"

The robotic and fully articulated Wand of Erotic Torment continued vibrating and firmly pressing against Tori's hoo-haw!

Buzzzzz...

The semi-suspended clients (and Kim) continued watching.

Blink, blink, blink.

Clearly, Tori was being stimulated and was building towards some sort of orgasm.  (How could she not?)  The buzzing continued... continued some more... then abruptly stopped.

The ensuing silence was deafening.

Tori panted through her flaring nostrils, her perfect (but not overly huge) breasts heaving to the extent her bonds would allow.

The watching clients (and Kim) took a break from blinking and exchanged tape-gagged looks.  Had she made it?  Had they been privileged to watch Tori Fleet, global superstar, experience a restrained multi-orgasm?  The consensus appeared to be no, but the girls were hardly in a position to compare notes... and Tori was in no position to confirm or contradict their assessments.

The First Inter-Vibratory Rest Period continued.

It was an exhausting "day off" for Mattie, Jess, Kim, and Holly.

As for Poor Tori... when The Evil Becky and her Wicked Minions Jane and Jo returned to the scene of their collective crime... the global superstar had clearly been rode hard and put away wet.  That is, she was gleaming with sweat from head to toe and her hair was badly in need of a good wash, conditioning, and restorative maintenance.

All three Cruel Villains released Tori from what Kim had decided to label "The Gibson Machine," helped her to her wobbly feet, then—the tape-gag with tongue-suppressing, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob still sealing her exquisite lips and plugging her exquisite oral cavity—Becky held her steady and helped her slowly, weakly pad from the chamber.

Meanwhile, Jane and Jo quickly and deftly untied and released Mattie from most of her bonds.  Still naked, her wrists crossed and bound behind her back, shock-collared, and tape-gagged (with tongue-suppressing, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob) they led her from the chamber as well. closing and locking the doors behind them.  Thud!  Click!

Jess, Kim, and Holly remained behind (of course), exchanging puzzled looks.  Why not untie them all at once?  That's how things like this usually happened after a training session.  It saved time, and it was just as easy to control a coffle of four naked and bound captives as it was a coffle of one.

Time passed... something like thirty minutes... then—Click!—the doors were unlocked and opened.  Jane and Jo had returned.  They reduced Jess's bonds to crossed and bound wrists, collar, and gag, then led her from the chamber, closing and locking the doors once again.  Thud!  Click!

Kim frowned.  This was truly puzzling.  Such blatant inefficiency simply wasn't tolerated at Becky Bynder's Bondage Boot Camp.

Another half-hour passed...  Then—Click!—Jane and Jo returned.

This time the smiling duo bypassed Kim, de-rigged Holly, and led her from the chamber with her wrists crossed and bound behind her back.  Thud!  Click!

Kim was furious.  She scowled at the closed and locked double doors.  They're messin' with me! she silently fumed.  The conclusion was inevitable.  I'll get you for this! she vowed.

Yet another half-hour passed, then—Click!—the Despicable Fiends that Poor Kim had thought were her friends and coworkers finally returned, de-rigged the silently fuming little blonde, and—wrists crossed and bound behind her back, her shock-collar still locked around her neck, and still tape-gagged (with tongue-suppressing, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob)—led her from the chamber.

Making it very clear she was not happy, Kim stomped (padded) down the corridor between her grinning handlers.  She was dragged (led) to what she immediately recognized as one of the Boot Camp's "Motel Cells."  There was a pause as Jane unlocked and opened the door—Click!—then Jo shoved (pushed) her across the threshold and—Thud! Click!—Jane closed and locked the door behind her!

This particular Motel Cell was just like all the others.  It had a twin-size platform-bed/sleeping-pad, an alcove with a stainless steel face basin, commode, small shower stall, and nothing else to speak of... not counting the silvered domes covering the surveillance cameras tucked into all four of the upper corners of the room.  Very spartan, fully functional, and somewhat cramped, but much better than one of the Languishing Cells or Classrooms.

Freeing herself was no challenge for a trained and experienced rigger like Kim Bynder.  She dropped to the floor and executed (so to speak) a standard bound-hands-under-the-butt-and-arms-through-the-legs maneuver to get said bound hands in front... then peeled the strip of tape from her lips... expelled the tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling silicon-rubber glob from her mouth... used her teeth to pick apart the knots securing her wrist-bonds... then reached for the concrete ceiling in a back-arching full-body stretch.  She couldn't do anything about the obedience collar still locked around her neck and ready to zap her throat if she made any vocal noise, but she was otherwise totally free... and naked.

Oh-by-the-way, resting on the bed was a stainless steel tray with a dome-cover and a bottle of beer in a stainless steel thermos-sleeve.  Kim recognized it as a typical client dining-alone-meal-tray, and her empty stomach grumbled.  She lifted the cover to find a cloth napkin, and resting on a plate was a really yummy-looking club sandwich (with avocado slices!) and a handful of potato chips.  Club sandwiches were among her very favorites, and her fellow staff members knew it.  Kim smiled... then remembered she was furious at her coworkers and resumed scowling.  She appreciated the gesture, but still intended to take Unspeakable Revenge on Jane and Jo at her earliest opportunity.

Kim restored the cover over the plate, then padded to the bathroom alcove.  First things first.  She took a leak, followed by a shower, toweled herself dry (more or less), then (her hair wrapped in the towel) sat on the bed and demolished the yummy sandwich and crunchy chips and swigged the cold beer.  After that, she placed the tray next to the locked door for easy pickup, together with her neatly coiled former wrist-bonds, the crumpled strip of her former tape-gag, and her former silicon-rubber mouth-plug.  Revenge against her coworkers was one thing, but causing them extra work was something else altogether.  Also, nobody likes a messy Motel Cell.

Then... blessed sleep.  Would she process the day before drifting off?  Would she savor the memory of the privilege of having witnessed Tori Fleet, helpless, naked, bound, and being repeatedly diddle-vibrated?  Would she indulge in a little "tension relief," seeing as she wasn't tied up and nothing was stopping her from doing so?  Possibly.  (Probably.)

The next week constituted the final week of training for Holly, Mattie, Jess, (and Kim).  Their exposure (so to speak) to various bondage techniques continued.  Nakedness remained the standard student uniform, and while the obedience collars remained locked around their necks, they were powered off now and then so they could ask questions and discuss the details of what they were learning with their instructors/kidnappers.  Also, the complexity of the involved rope-work of their bondage lessons was greatly reduced.  The emphasis shifted from helplessness in general to the ins, outs, and specific nature of individual bondage components, like wrist-bonds, ankle-bonds, upper-body-ties, knee-ties, etc.  Which were the most photogenic?  Which were the easiest to consistently rig and de-rig, thus maintaining continuity during filming?  Which maintained the subject's genuine helplessness for prolonged periods without causing skin damage or sore joints?

Kim was the exception, however.  She remained paired with Jess for the most part, but her role seemed to be that of training aid, a "Bondage Barbie" practice dummy for Jane and/or Jo to demonstrate the more elaborate and restrictive techniques, positions, and predicaments to Jess and sometimes the others.  Was it infuriating and/or irritating?  Hell yes it was infuriating and/or irritating!

For example, then it came time to teach the concept of the strappado, Mattie, Holly, and Jess got to experience having their wrists tied behind their backs and elevated until they were bent forward at the waist and dancing on their toes; however, Kim went first, and she remained en strappado while her fellow naked and shock-collared hotties were tied and untied.  This was to illustrate to the others that prolonged strappado could be endured, as long as it wasn't too extreme and no suspension was involved.  Also, Kim's collar remained activated throughout the entire lesson, whereas her fellow naked captives were allowed to ask questions and discuss her predicament.

Adding insult to predicament bondage, Jane had also tied Kim's elbows together and added a tape-gag (with tongue-trapping and bite-protecting gobstopping glob insert) for no good reason!  She'd also tied Kim's ankles together, also for no good reason!  And she hadn't done any of that to Mattie, Holly, or Jess.  The non-blondes were subjected to minimal strappado only.  It was infuriating.

And as for Kim and Jess getting to discuss the script or even the basic plot of the film they were supposedly being trained to star in together?  That still hadn't happened!  They did share a Motel Cell most nights, but only with both their collars turned on.  Cuddling was allowed.  A little casual mutual tension release was allowed.  Talking was not.

As for Tori Fleet, after being released from the Table/Armature/Robotic-Damsel-Diddler in the Special Classroom and being helped from the chamber by The Evil Maternal Unit Becky Bynder, Kim and her fellow students/kidnap-victims didn't see her again.  Apparently, simulated torture training complete, she'd been released back into the wild and was once again a free-range global superstar.  Go figure.

And what about Becky, Kim's aforementioned Evil Maternal Unit?  She popped into the classrooms now and then and participated in the question-and-answer sessions with her clients, but more or less ignored her Darling Daughter.  Oh, she did smile at Kim and plant the occasional kiss on her tape-gagged, ball-gagged, and/or pouting lips now and then, but that was about it.  Kim knew herself to be a prop, a manikin, a training aid to expedite the training of the paying clients (especially Jess).  Mother still loved her (or course), but nonetheless her new educational bondage model status was infuriating, very infuriating (see also maddening, aggravating, and vexatious).

Finally... graduation.

Holly, Mattie, and Jess were untied, completely.  They took showers, dried themselves off, got dressed, and everybody enjoyed a celebratory gourmet meal (with champagne) catered by the studio's Craft Services Department.

Once again, the exception was Poor Kim.  Jane and Jo were nice enough to strip off their uniforms, drag the pouting little blonde with them into the shower, get her clean, dry her off, dress her hair, and serve as her escorts for the celebration, but Poor Kim remained naked, the obedience collar remained powered-on and locked around her neck, and her wrists bound behind her back with stainless steel Irish-8-style handcuffs for the duration.  Jess took over from Kim's coworkers and made sure she got her share of the delicious food and bubbly champagne, but she was the only naked and electronically muted captive present.

Infuriating?  Yes, it was infuriating.  Why even ask?

Once the meal was over, Jess planted an enthusiastic kiss on Kim's lips and promised to call her in a couple of days so they could arrange getting together to finally discuss their film.  Then, together with Holly and Mattie, the clients said her goodbyes to Becky, Jane, and Jo... then departed.

Mother Dearest, Jane, and Jo waved at the graduates... turned to smile at Kim... then strolled away in various directions.

Hilarious, Kim fumed.  A real laugh riot.  She then stomped (padded) away, naked, the shock-collar still locked around her neck, and her wrists still cuffed behind her back, in search of the appropriate key to the Irish-8's.

She found it... eventually... eventually located the key to her shock-collar as well... and thereby managed to finally free herself completely.

The End

Almost.

Epilogue

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Holly and Mattie's movie was a hit.  Not a blockbuster, but it easily paid for itself and made its investors the proverbial shit-load of money.  It was well received by the critics as well, for the most part.  The fans liked it too, for the most part, and it was a career boost for all concerned.  A sequel wasn't out of the question.

As for Jess and Kim... their project was a blockbuster.  The critics couldn't decide whether to call it a buddy comedy or an action/adventure romp.  There was strong talk of a franchise and the studio had feelers out for potential investors.  It was definitely a career boost for Jess and Kim.  The girls' chemistry (especially during the bondage scenes) was the talk of the town (meaning the Hollywood press and the social media).

As for Tori Fleet's Barbarella-ripoff/Space-Opera, when it finally debuted on the big screen it was a HUGE HIT!  Heroic-and-Sexy-Space-Ranger and Scantily-Clad-Captured-Space-Princess-in-Chains were the most popular costumes for women of all ages that Halloween.

The cast development services of Becky Bynder's Bondage Boot Camp continued to be in great demand by the major studios, and Those Gibson Girls decided to grant them the use of one of their properties as a permanent base of operations.  The building on the BiDS campus they'd been using before returned to general use, meaning film development, storage, overflow work space, etc.  There's never enough room for everything that needs to happen at a film studio.

There is one additional trivial detail that requires, uh, tying up.

The Epic Revenge of Kimberly Bynder

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Not against Kimberly's mother, of course.  Never against Kimberly's mother.  Mom had been trying to boost her beloved daughter's career by getting her a role in Jess's movie.  Kim had known that even when she was naked, tied up, shock-collared, sometimes gagged, and furious.

Anyway, it was Jane and Jo who required retribution and/or chastisement.  They'd had waaay too much fun following Mother's orders and being unspeakably cruel (but in no way unusual or harmful) to Poor Kimberly.  They deserved punishment... and they got it!

It happened a week after the graduation of Holly, Mattie, and Jess.  Mother (Becky) had departed for three days of consultation (whatever that meant) with Peggy and Bethany Gibson at their Park Avenue townhouse in The Big Apple.  Kim, Jane, and Jo had remained behind to prepare the facilities for the next batch of nubile young Boot Camp clients.  The clients in question weren't scheduled to report for captivity for ten days, but their stock of conditioned hemp rope needed checking, their rolls of Microfoam tape replenishment, and their stock of silicon-rubber tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-plugging globs needed to be cleaned and sanitized.

Kim's was as skilled in damsel handling as she was in rigging.  She knew how to ambush, bind, gag, and do anything she wanted to your typical unsuspecting gorgeous actress.  Kim's problem was that neither Jane nor Jo were typical.  They were also expert damsel handlers.

Finding Jo alone and unsuspecting, pouncing upon her and rendering her bound, gagged, and helpless was doable... meaning possible... meaning marginally within the extreme realm of possibility.  Who was she kidding?  Kim knew that nine times out of ten, when the ambush-dust settled, she'd be Jo's prisoner.

As for Jane... Kim knew she had zero chance of subduing the statuesque, exquisitely fit, superbly skilled, (and stunningly attractive) Amazon Warrior-Princess that was Jane Newton.

There was only one strategy that had the slightest chance of success:  Wait 'til Mother was safely away and "consulting" with Those Gibson Girls in New York, wait a day or two longer to get most of the preparations finished and the Boot Camp almost ready to receive new clients, then wait 'til she found her coworkers sipping coffee in the Staff Break Room... and politely ask.

"Please let be tie you up?" Kim whined.  "I need closure, and I can't get it with Mother.  That would be... yucky."

Jane and Jo exchanged amused looks.

"Yucky indeed," Jo purred.

"Let me get this straight," Jane said, smiling her best sardonic smile.  "You want revenge on your mother for putting you through the standard training program so you could bond with Jess Flores, get a part in her movie, and make a huge pile of money?  And the only way you can do it is to tie us up?"

"We were only following orders," Jo added.  Her smile was also sardonic.

"I need to balance the books," Kim explained, batting her incredibly attractive blue eyes.

"My books are balanced," Jane stated.

"Mine too," Jo agreed.

"Pleeeeease?" Kim begged, dialing her Pathetic Waif routine up to eleven.

Jane and Jo locked eyes... and shrugged.  They finished their coffee, climbed to their feet, and exited the break room.  Beaming her most self satisfied dimpled smile, Kim slurped the last of her coffee and followed.

"We better stop at the Little Damsel's Room and empty our bladders," Jane muttered as they padded down the corridor.

"That's a given," Jo agreed.

"No talking!" Kim barked.

"Shut up!" Kim's coworkers snapped in response.

Submitted for your approval...

Two damsels.

Both physically fit, curvaceous, and unarguably quite beautiful.

Both were brunettes, one with fair skin and blue eyes, the other with dusky brown skin and brown eyes.  One was statuesque (compared to her coworkers) and the other typical in height (again, compared to her coworkers).

Both were naked, totally naked, and identically box-tied with an abundance of thin, brown, conditioned hemp rope, inescapably and expertly applied.  Also, their upper-body-bondage predicaments were of the "sadistic" variety.  That is, their crossed wrists were raised well past the horizontal, then lashed against their spines.

Also, the dark-skinned damsel's ankles were lashed together, while the light-skinned damsel's were separated and lashed to the outsides of the dark-skinned damsels's ankles.  Both damsels were up on their toes.  This was possible as the together-and-alongside arrangement had canceled out the light-skinned damsel's height advantage.  Also also, both damsel's legs were lashed together (all four legs) in an elaborate and well-cinched ladder-tie from their ankle-bonds all the way up to their lower box-tie-bonds.

And why were they up on their toes?  They had no choice.  Taut vertical ropes traveled up to a steel ring attached to a dangling steel chain that in turn was wound onto the reel of an electric motor running in a steel track that was mounted to the ceiling.  The suspending ropes supported something like half their collective weight, leaving their toes and the balls of their feet to deal with the remainder.

They might have protested and/or complained about this treatment, or perhaps begged for release, but silicon-rubber tongue-trapping, bite-protecting, and mouth-filling globs had been stuffed in their mouths and their lips sealed with wide strips of Microfoam tape to keep them there.  Then, their tape-gags had been doubly reinforced with taut layers of wrap-around-the-head tape of two varieties.  The first was white vet-wrap and the second was silver-gray duct tape.  The damsels were well silenced indeed.

And if it isn't yet clear, the damsels were facing each other and lashed together, boob-to-boob, tummy-to-tummy, and thigh-to-thigh, as well as ankles-to-ankles.  Finally, an additional, arguably redundant, and decidedly tight diamond-hitch or kikkou harness reinforced the entire arrangement from their shoulders to their ankle-bonds.

Oh-by-the-way, a long electrical cord emerged from the general area of the damsel's ankle-bonds, trailed across the concrete floor, and was plugged into an electronic control box that in turn was plugged into a laptop computer that in turn was plugged into an electrical outlet.

But what was the original cord attached to at its origin?  A shared crotch-harness anchored the bulbous end of a powerful wand-style vibrator against the pussies of both damsels!  At the moment the device was inert, but the laptop was running an insidious program that, once activated, would stimulate the damsels' hoo-haws utilizing ascending waves of titillating energy for random periods interspersed with random rest intervals!  Yes, it was the same damsel-diddling program (supposedly developed by Those Gibson Girls) that had erotically tortured (entertained) Tori Fleet!

The damsels in question were Jane Newton and Jo Bulhe (of course), and the author of their shared predicament was The Vindictive and Wickedly Gleeful Kimberly Bynder (of course).

Kim padded a slow circle around her vivacious victims... all the while smiling a dimpled and gloating smile strikingly similar to her mother's smile under similar circumstances.

"Well," Kim purred, "the program's initial countdown should complete in about half an hour... then the fun will really begin.  I'll come get you at dinnertime, and we'll share Mother's bed tonight, seeing as how she's away and it's the only mattress around here big enough for all three of us.  You'll remain box-tied, of course, and in the morning we... by which I mean you... will give the classrooms and corridors one final sweeping and mopping.  You'll be in slave-chains and chastity belts, of course, but that shouldn't slow you down too much."

Kim padded to the door, opened it, paused in the threshold to wave—"Ciao!"—then closed and locked the door.  Thud!  Click!

Jane and Jo faced each other and heaved stringently rope-restricted sighs.  Revenge was one thing, but there was such a thing as too much revenge.  It would depend on how they felt when they were finally released by Becky's adorable little evil munchkin, but Kim might have let herself get carried away,  Counter-revenge might be warranted.

The computer generated (but not displayed) countdown continued.

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Chapter 8

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