the novel writing front... Scotti found herself in a
wrestling match with the plot outline and character notes, but
she wasn't worried.
The budding author had made a little progress shifting
the setting into the realm of the Steampunk genre, despite the
required research into pseudo-Steam Age technological tropes,
highly questionable science, and pseudo-Victorian fashion.
(The internet is a wonderful thing.) However, a mental
resistance movement had built and built and finally blossomed
into a full-blown rebellion! The story kept trying to drag
itself in the direction of High Fantasy! Dragons and
talking cats kept popping into Scotti's thoughts, as did plucky
young princesses in Robin Hood outfits stalking through the
forest accompanied by loyal companions who may or may not have
Special Powers. Also... elves... really hot elves...
with pointy ears! And what's not to like about elves?
Scotti finally decided to stop fighting and just let it
happen. Why not have a self-reliant and
wilderness-savvy young heroine? And why not combine
aspects of both genres? Longbows, swords, and
wicked-cool airships? That could work. However,
she drew the line at firearms, not out of squeamishness—problem
solving with bladed weapons could get plenty bloody—but
out of "world-building" concerns. Unleash ever-improving
gunpowder technology and serious damage to charming stone
castles would inevitably follow... and where was the fun in
that? And as for sorcery, witchcraft, and supernatural
jiggery-pokery in general? Scotti was undecided.
She'd probably use magick in some manner, but judiciously and
only as a balancing element.
The wrestling continued, but Scotti could tell her mind wasn't
thrashing, it was working. Soon she'd be ready to
formalize her outline and could take a stab at writing the first
draft of the first chapter.
Meanwhile, time passed, one day at a time. Scotti's
idyllic existence at The Cottage continued and... stuff
With respect to Amy, Scotti let the eldest DuPont sister suffer
the Exquisite Agony of Complete Suspense. That is, she let
the threat of the "Penalty Kick" Sybil had granted her in the
wake of The Great Skinny-Dipping And Freckle-Farming Debacle loom
over Amy's head like the Sword of Damocles. (Scotti
had no idea why the DuPonts had decided to usurp
soccer/foot-ball terminology for the rules of their Bondage
Game, and she kept forgetting to ask.)
Anyway, day after day... nothing... but Amy knew that at some
point Scotti would lower the boom, demand that Amy strip
so she could be tied up in some hideous fashion, and there would
be nothing the elder DuPont sister could do but meekly
submit. The alternative would be to disappoint Mother,
which was unthinkable. Now and then—during chance
encounters, family meals, or while they were all gathered in the
Television Sitting Room in the Main House and watching a movie
or something—Scotti would let Amy catch her gazing in her
direction with just a hint of a smug, gloating
smile. But for now, nothing else happened.
Unfortunately, Scotti had to admit that Amy was holding up quite
well under the no doubt crushing burden of all that gripping
anxiety, like she didn't have a care in the world. Spoilsport!
With respect to Iris, Scotti also didn't invoke her
outstanding Penalty Kick, but she did continue relying on the
youngest DuPont sister for help developing her practical rigging
skills. Almost every night found Scotti and Iris together,
either in The Cottage or Iris' bedroom, with one or the other
(or both) naked and one or the other tying the other up with
coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline.
Wait! Both Scotti and Iris were sometimes naked
and helplessly bound? Wasn't Scotti the one with all the
power? Wasn't Scotti the one able to command total
obedience thanks to the threat of the ever-looming Penalty
Kick? Yes, but it was only logical. The learning
process required the ginger scholar to both tie and be tied,
to apply ropes to Iris and to feel the ropes tighten
around herself with Iris carefully explaining what she was doing
and why. That had been Iris' position, anyway, and Scotti
had accepted her ex-roommate's inescapable (pun intended) logic.
Anyway, most nights after dinner Scotti and Iris "studied"
together in The Cottage or Iris' bedroom, half the time with
Scotti doing the rigging and half the time being Iris' naked
Skill-wise, Scotti made rapid progress. The duo worked
their way through the most popular bondage variations—box-tie,
hogtie, frog-tie, shrimp-tie, ladder-tie, diamond-hitch-tie,
etc., etc.—but they decided to put off on experimenting with
suspension harnesses. Too much danger of rope-burns.
Anyway, Scotti made progress.
And oh-by-the-way, Iris managed to extract a sort of Side-Compensation
for her tutoring efforts. She brought up the issue of
Mother liking Scotti's freckles and proposed expediting their
production by having Scotti strip naked whenever she helped in
the garden! At first Scotti refused, stating that Iris was
a "Goth perv" for even suggesting clothing-free
yardwork. (She also blushed.) Iris persevered,
however, pointing out that Sybil was a wonderful mother to both
her biological offspring and any ginger house-guests
who happened to be hanging around. Also, when you think
about it, naked gardening wasn't markedly different
from skinny-dipping. Grubbier and less wet? Yes, but
naked was naked. It was hard for Scotti to argue with
that. Finally, Iris shyly confessed that she was also of
the opinion that Scotti's freckles were quite becoming.
And as an added bonus, nude horticulture would be an opportunity
for more research.
"Research?" Scotti scoffed. "What research?"
Iris smiled. "I'll show you tomorrow," she promised, and
said nothing more.
Scotti would have pursued the matter further, but they were in
the middle of a weeknight rigging lesson in Iris' bedroom—it was
Scotti's turn to be Iris' naked-rigging-manikin—she was
stringently bound in a reverse-prayer box-tie with her legs
ladder-tied together from waist (and crotch) to ankles (and
big-toes)—and Iris had chosen that instant to complete her
bondage-tableau by tying a bandana-cleave-gag (with wadded
handkerchief stuffing). "Mrrrf!" Scotti had no
choice but to put the prospect of naked gardening on hold.
Dammit! Maybe Iris would forget about it by
No such luck.
Breakfast happened and, as always, the Plan-of-the-Day was
established. Sybil and Iris would be busy in the shop all
morning. There was a small furniture order nearing
completion and a coordinated push would get everything finished
and ready for shipment by the end of the day. Iris
announced she had a "minor landscaping project" she wanted to
start in one of the side gardens and requisitioned Scotti's
help. (Iris also winked at Scotti when the others weren't
looking, confirming that mischief was afoot.)
Cleanup happened... then the furniture-making and gardening
Dressed for gardening (boots, jeans, work-shirt. gloves, and
wide-brimmed sunhat), Scotti met her similarly attired rigging
instructor near a small gardening shed tucked between the far
side of Main House and the back of the Storage Building.
"Okay, what's this 'project' you supposedly need my help with?"
Scotti demanded. It was clear all of this was just a ruse
to get her away from the others so Iris could do something freckle-generating
to her, and it was certainly a good day for it. The
morning mist had already burned off, there wasn't a cloud in the
sky, and according to the forecast it was going to stay that way
through the weekend.
"We're going to build a wall," Iris explained with an
Scotti was dubious. "A wall."
"A stone wall," Iris elaborated.
"To keep out the bears?" Scotti drawled.
"No, silly," Iris chuckled, "one of those ancient, tumbled-down,
moss-covered walls to define part of the edge of the main
clearing. It won't keep out anything but will be very
Romantic. Overgrown ruins are always Romantic."
"Not right away," Iris conceded. "It'll take months to
cultivate the moss, but in order to make a mossy tumbled-down
wall you need a large pile of rocks."
Scotti rolled her eyes. "How profound."
Iris grinned, then turned to the garden shed and opened the
door. "And to gather rocks..." She made a sweeping
gesture. "You need a rock hauler."
Scotti found herself staring at a sturdy, high-end garden cart,
the kind you can find at any well-stocked home improvement
store. It had four rubber wheels, a black tubular steel
frame, a rectangular bed of heavy-duty green plastic, and a
sturdy tongue with a detachable handle, probably so the cart
could be directly hitched to a garden tractor. It was like
a scaled up adult version of a child's little-red-wagon... only
Scotti stared at the cart as Iris took hold of the handle and
rolled it out of the shed. "Uh, very nice," she muttered.
"Okay, strip and let's get started," Iris beamed.
Scotti's green eyes popped appropriately wide. I knew
Iris clapped her gloved hands together. Thump-thump!
"Chop-chop! Clothing off. You can't make freckles
wearing clothes. And that's the point of the exercise,
Scotti continued staring at the cart. "I thought we were
building a wall."
"Multitasking, Gingerella, multitasking," Iris chuckled.
She clapped her hands again. Thump-thump!
"Strip, but keep the boots. You're gonna need the boots."
Scotti stared daggers at her smiling so-called friend for the
appropriate number of disapproving seconds... then removed her
hat and gloves and started unbuttoning her shirt. She
continued disrobing, stripping off her shirt, the underlying
tank-top, then her bra, jeans, and panties. This first
required unlacing and removing her boots... then the
aforementioned disrobing... then putting them back on
again. Her costume reduced to socks and boots, Scotti
crossed her arms over her breasts and resumed staring daggers.
"Hey, brighten up," Iris chuckled. "Not only is this
helping you with your research, but once Mother realizes you're
willing to make sacrifices on her behalf to improve your freckle
collection, you'll have her eating out of your peachy-pink,
Scotti continued staring. "Maybe she'll grant me
additional Penalty Kicks," she growled.
Iris shrugged. "Who knows?" She pointed at the
ground under Scotti's boots—"Stay!"—then stepped into the garden
shed and quickly returned holding a swaying, rattling mass of
narrow black leather straps and shiny steel rings, rivets, and
Scotti quickly realized the tinkling conglomeration was a body
harness, especially after Iris dropped a portion of it over her
pouting head and started threading individual straps through
individual buckles and snugging the straps tight!
"Hey!" Scotti objected.
"Stifle!" Iris commanded. "You need some way to pull the
cart, don't you?"
Scotti rolled her eyes. "You mean like... oh, I don't
know... the handle?"
"Bor-ing!" Iris chuckled as she continued tightening and
Inevitably, Scotti found herself wearing a snug harness that
yoked her shoulders, encircled her torso above and below her
breasts and around her waist, and passed through her crotch,
threatening to cleave her pussy-lips! "Hey!" The
boob-framing straps also pinned her upper-arms against her body
and trapped her folded arms behind her back in box-tie fashion,
with cuff-like straps confining her wrists and forearms.
Scotti executed a vigorous (and surly) Courtesy Struggle... with
the expected results. This was the first time a DuPont had
restrained her with something other than coffee-stained
clothesline. "You guys make furniture and do
leather crafting?" she huffed.
Iris shook her head. "No, silly. Just like Mother
buys our steel hardware from Cody Archer, she has other friends
who meet our leather needs."
Scotti ceased her futile but required-by-etiquette harness
testing and watched as Iris released and removed a pair of
cotter-pins on the shaft of the cart's handle, then replaced the
handle section with a steel fitting with three dangling chains
terminating in swing-gate carabiners. She backed Scotti to
the front of the cart, then snapped the carabiners through
D-rings solidly sewn into the harness, one on either
shoulder-strap and the third at Scotti's waist, just below her
folded arms. Click! Click! Click!
And now Scotti and the cart were one! Gingerella was a
A shiver rippled down Scotti's spine and rebounded off the
harness' crotch-strap. This was definitely research!
And on new ground! Scotti had never delved deeply into the
scholarly aspects of pony-play, nor was it one of her literary
fantasies... but here she was. Wow. She
tugged against the empty cart and the three chains snapped
taut. The harness appeared to be doing its job,
distributing the weight of the cart in the proper ergonomic
manner. "What now?" she demanded (ignoring the way the
crotch-strap pressed against her pussy).
"Hold on," Iris chuckled. "We're not quite ready."
Scotti frowned. "What else is there for you
to—MRRFH!" Iris had thrust a rubber bit in her
unsuspecting mouth and was buckling its strap at the nape of her
neck, under her ginger pageboy! Once Iris stepped back,
Scotti shook her head and tried to dislodge the bit-gag.
All she accomplished was to cause her short, straight hair to
sway and shake... then settle back into her usual charming
trademark coif. Scotti was not happy.
"Whoa, girl," Iris chuckled. "Settle down. Don't
make me get the nipple-clamp-reins."
Scotti stopped squirming and her green eyes popped wide above
her new rubber bit-gag. Say what?
Iris smile was sinister and wicked, much like her big
sister's when she was up to no good. Iris nodded
towards the open shed. "There's a set right in there," she
purred. "Clover-clamps with a connecting chain and two
more chains that attach to the rings on either end of the
bit. Add a pair of leather reins and you can lead your
pretty pony from the front or the back. Would you like me
to show you?"
No, Gingerella did not want Wednesday to show
her! Green eyes still wide, Scotti shook her head rather
frantically, once again causing her pageboy to sway. (Her
nipples were now pointing, by the way, but this was from fear
and certainly not out of curiosity.)
"Allrightiethen," Iris chuckled. "I know several places we
can find rocks around here, and the cart will easily fit between
most of the trees. If we stay off the really steep slopes
and don't overload the cart we should be fine.
Unfortunately, the most suitable rocks are up to a quarter-mile
away. We'll need to do this in many trips of small loads,
so we better get started. I'm sure we'll make reasonable
progress before lunch." She stepped back into the shed...
and returned immediately holding—
"Mrrrk?" Scotti's eyes popped wide once again, and her
heart was hammering! Iris was brandishing a black
leather riding crop!
Once again, Iris' smile was sinister, wicked, and decidedly
Amy-like. "I'm sure you'll be a hardworking pony and will
haul a ton of rocks, but be careful. I'll guide
you around any fallen timber, but watch your footing...
especially after you start getting tired and sweaty." Iris
reached out and used the floppy loop at the business end of the
crop to lightly tap the outer slope of Scotti's left boob.
Scotti flinched when it happened—Tap-tap!—but it was more
humiliating than painful. Actually, it wasn't painful at
all. She summoned the courage to glare at her
Iris tossed the crop into the cart, then briefly reentered the
shed and returned with a gardening tool with a long handle and a
straight, sturdy, hoe-like business-end suitable for edging or
general grubbing-in-the-ground. "For prying out
half-buried rocks," she explained. "Now, follow close, but
not too close. Off we go." And with that,
the younger DuPont Villainous Villainess stepped off, using the
garden tool like a walking stick and heading for a strategic gap
between a pair of nearby flowerbeds.
Scotti rolled her green eyes, heaved the required tragic sigh,
and followed. The chains of her harness snapped taut and
the empty cart followed as well. Scotti was beginning to
think that maybe she ought to rethink the degree of planning
initiative she was granting Iris with respect to her research
Iris and her pony had repeatedly crisscrossed the slopes of the
mountain for a quarter-mile in all directions and in the process
had chased down quite a few wall-worthy rocks and returned them
to the DuPont Compound. There, they formed a slowly
growing pile and patiently awaited assembly into a disassembled
wall. Most were skull-sized or slightly larger. Iris
had pried or lifted them out of or off the forest floor and
loaded them into the cart; but, of course, it was Scotti who did
all the hauling. Soon, they were both sweaty from their
respective labors. Luckily, a variety of cool, refreshing
beverages were stockpiled in the kitchen refrigerator back at
The Main House, so they didn't need to load up the grape-colored
YETI® cooler and haul it around with them.
Anyway, while the resulting pile was impressive, Iris shook her
head and announced that it was going to take several
strenuous days to gather enough tonnage to construct the
ruined wall she envisioned.
Gingerella had performed most of her labors under the shade of
the cedar canopy, but nonetheless had clocked significant
freckle generation time. The sun was never an issue for
Iris, of course, as she was totally protected by her long
sleeved shirt, jeans, gloves, and sunhat. Yes, the smiling
semi-Goth miscreant was well protected (and sweaty).
And speaking of lunchtime, the noon meal happened on the deck
with Sybil serving sandwiches, chips, and fruit to her daughters
and Scotti—who remained in her pony costume of body-harness,
boots, bit-gag, and sweat! She was blushing like crazy,
especially when Sybil started cooing and fussing over her
supposed "significant progress" in improving her freckle
collection. Amy was amused, while Iris made it clear she
was disgustingly proud of her role in Scotti's frecklization.
And speaking of making a fuss, Sybil had unbuckled Scotti's
bit-gag and left it dangling around her neck, then used a damp
kitchen towel to cleanse Scotti's face, shoulders, and boobs,
all the while murmuring her appreciation of Gingerella's
bravery, fortitude, and stamina.
While this was happening, Amy and Iris (smiling like the
Villainous Villainesses they were) took over the final meal
preparations. Obviously, the sisters were quite enjoying
watching Mother inflict her pampering proclivities on someone
other than themselves. Anyway, lunch happened with Iris
hand-feeding Scotti and without any discussion of the dubious
nature of Iris' gardening methodology.
As soon as the cleanup was over (which Scotti smugly watched,
seeing as she was helplessly harnessed and unable to pitch in),
Sybil and Amy returned to The Work Shop to finish the last of
the furniture order while Iris informed her pony that it was
time to resume rock-gathering.
"Iris!" Scotti whined. "I thought we were done for the
"You can't be that tired," Iris purred as she unbuckled
the bit-gag and thrust it between Scotti's pouting lips.
Three more hours of rock-gathering happened! It was
outrageous! Actually, it was more like two-and-a-half
hours, and Iris set a reasonable pace. The rock pile
grew, including a special side-pile of the most interestingly
shaped rocks Iris planned on using for the most visible portions
of the ruins to make them "maximally picturesque."
And thanks to Scotti's bit-gag, all conversation between the
youngest DuPont and her Pony-Girl was totally one-sided.
It was infuriating... for Scotti. Iris was having a grand
old time. The smiling little reprobate had detailed
plans for her wall, and she was anxious to share them with
Scotti as they worked.
It would seem Iris had a fondness for all the adorable
indigenous forest creatures and wanted to help alleviate the
furry critter housing situation. That is, she'd seen a YouTube
video showing baby weasels darting in and out of a stone
wall and thought engineering a maze of weasel-friendly passages
and nesting chambers into her wall would be a fabulous idea!
She prattled on and on about her planned layout (which included
a small birdbath that would double as a Weasel Hydration
Station) until Scotti was sick to death of hearing
Iris finally called it a day around 3-PM! Imagine!
She emptied the last load of weasel housing material atop the
other rocks, then led her pony and cart to a hose-station near
the storage shed. She unhitched Gingerella... who then
watched, sullen and glistening with sweat, as Iris hosed off the
cart and propped it against the side of the garden shed so it
could drip dry. Next, Iris gathered Scotti's clothes and
rolled them into a bundle, then led her pouting pony into the
Their destination—meaning Iris' destination as Scotti
was still strapped in the leather body-harness and bit-gagged
and had no choice in the matter—was the DuPonts' home gym.
Scotti watched as Iris turned on the medium-sized dry sauna
built into one of the gym-walls, then rummaged in a cabinet and
produced a coiled bundle of the ubiquitous DuPont coffee-stained
conditioned cotton clothesline. Scotti rolled her
eyes. I should have known. Iris released the
coil, looped one end around Scotti's neck and tied a loose
bowline... then tied the other end to the gym's weight
rack. Thus, Gingerella the tired and sweaty pony was now
tethered in place.
Scotti continued watching as Iris undressed... completely.
Soon, the pale-skinned miscreant was sweaty and nude. She
neatly folded her clothes and stacked them atop her boots, next
to Scotti's bundled clothes, then smiled and strolled back in
Scotti's naked, sweaty, booted, harness-bound, and bit-gagged
"Pay attention, now," Iris purred as she released Scotti's
coffee-stained tether and spun her around. "Bondage
transition can be a challenge. You have to keep your, uh,
'subject' helpless at all times. Otherwise, she might turn
the tables, and what would be the fun in that?"
A whole lot of fun, Scotti silently fumed as Iris started
fussing with the harness straps that cuffed her wrists and
forearms. Tons of fun! A plentiful
plenitude of fun!
When Iris was finished with her bondage transition demonstration
the harness was a jumbled pile on the floor but Scotti remained
helpless. Specifically, her hands were bound behind her
back, palm-to-palm. Single strands of clothesline tightly
encircling her thumbs, hands, and wrists, then the rope
continued up Scotti's arms, ladder-tie fashion, pressing her
elbows together, and ending by yoking her shoulders.
Vigilant escapologist that she was, Scotti knew there were two
key knots she'd have to untie in order to wiggle free,
the first somewhere between her wrists, and the second somewhere
between her shoulder blades. Unfortunately, bound as she
was, the knots might as well be on the moon.
After the required (but halfhearted) Courtesy Struggle, Scotti
gazed down at Iris as she knelt at her feet and began unlacing
her boots. The grumpy prisoner considered kicking her
naked handler in her smug face, but... (1) She wanted out
of her sweaty boots and socks, and... (2) There was no
way she was going to actually kick Iris, not for real,
and especially not with steel-toed work boots.
Anyway, naked, sweaty, rope-bound, and bit-gagged, Scotti was
next forced to endure the humiliation of a long, cold rinse
under the shower next to the sauna. There was a pause
while Iris rinsed herself... then Iris turned off the shower and
used dollops of liquid soap and her hands to thoroughly
rub-a-dub-dub both their wet bodies. The water was turned
back on, the suds sluiced off their bodies and disappeared down
the drain, then Iris led her dripping, glistening, sulking
captive through the cedar door, the wall of hot air beyond, and
into the sauna.
Scotti watched in a resentful manner as Iris filled a wooden
bucket at a faucet with a wooden handle... then used a wooden
ladle to wet down the benches. Next, she "forced" Scotti
to sit on one of the upper benches... then sat next to her.
Actually, Scotti had found the shower to be welcome, even
exhilarating (including the involuntary soaping and
rubbing), and if Iris had politely suggested that a nice
relaxing sauna might be a good idea, she'd probably have nodded
in bit-gagged agreement, but Scotti was a helpless prisoner, so
she had obligations... like acting the role of the reluctant
About a minute passed... maybe two. The sauna wasn't quite
up to optimum temperature, but it was definitely getting
there. The water from the shower evaporated... and was
replaced by fresh sweat.
"Mrrrf," Scotti complained.
Iris opened an eye. "What?"
"MRRRF!" Scotti huffed.
"Okay," Iris chuckled as she leaned close, unbuckled Scotti's
gag, eased the rubber bit from her mouth, and set the device
down on the bench.
Scotti worked her jaw, licked her lips, and stared daggers at
her grinning captor.
"You're welcome," Iris chuckled.
"Shut up!' Scotti huffed. "I'm not speaking to you.
Also... shut up."
Iris smiled sweetly and closed her eyes again. "Don't
worry," she said after a few seconds. "I'll let you get me
back after supper... back in your cottage."
Scotti opened her mouth to tell Iris what she could do with her
offer to "get me back," then paused. She was tired, but
this was an opportunity. "Even if it involves the pink gym
Iris gazed at her naked, sweaty, ginger prisoner with one brown
eye... and her lips curled in a slight suggestion of a
saucy/wicked smile. "You mean Amy's cute little erotic toy
kit? The one you've been selfishly hoarding in your closet
"The very same," Scotti confirmed. "I've been thinking of
using all or part of it on Amy, whenever I get around to cashing
in my Penalty Kick... which means I'll need to practice."
"I see," Iris purred, closing her eye again. "You're
pretty gutsy to bring it up while you're the one that's naked
and tied up," she noted.
"As opposed to naked and obligated?" Scotti suggested
with a wry grin.
Eyes still closed, Iris heaved a tragic sigh. "A
conscience is a burdensome thing," she observed.
That night in The Cottage...
Wednesday was naked, bound,
and flat on her back on the bed. Gingerella was naked, not
bound in any way, and also flat on her back on the bed, next to
her prisoner. The rigging details were:
• Iris' wrists were crossed and tied
together, then her arms raised and folded back behind her head.
• A rope harness encircled her torso
above and below her breasts, yoked her shoulders, and anchored
her wrist bonds.
• Additional cinched bands of rope
lashed her upper-arms to her forearms, rendering wiggling out of
the raised arms arrangement quite impossible.
• Her legs were tied together with
separate bindings around and between her thighs, just above her
knees, just below her knees, around her lower-legs, and
her ankles, feet, and big toes.
• Finally, the toe-binding cord
stretched down to the bed's foot-board, thereby tethering Iris
to the bed.
Why the elaborate and unarguably redundant leg bindings?
Why not? Also, as Scotti reasoned, if you're going to
over-bind a damsel's legs, you might as well include her feet
and toes. She might lack practical rigging experience and
wasn't yet at the level of a rope-happy sadistic bitch like Amy,
but she was making progress.
And speaking of erotic torture, the infamous Hello Kitty bikini
swimsuit bottom was once again cladding Iris' loins! And,
of course, the insidious remote-controlled Panty Teaser vibrator
was once again tucked inside its custom-sewn spandex pocket in
the interior lining and thus ideally positioned to nestle
against Iris' horrified pussy with optimal/maximal contact!
And Iris had let Scotti slide the pink fashion atrocity (with
its overly amorous, black, pickle-shaped vibrator) up her legs
and up to her hips and crotch without objection (so Scotti
wasn't too guilt-ridden).
Her rigging complete, Scotti was examining the various menus of
the newly installed Panty Teaser control app on her iPhone.
"The interface is pretty intuitive," Iris stated, squirming in
her bonds for comfort. "Now... can you please get
on with your 'test' so you can untie me and we can get some
sleep? I'm tired." She squirmed again. "And
remember... no more than five minutes."
"Ten minutes," Scotti responded, her attention still on the
iPhone's tiny screen.
"Five minutes," Iris corrected. "We agreed on five
"Yes, we did," Scotti agreed, "but now you're tied up and
helpless... so it's ten minutes. The point of all
this is to learn how to use this thing to torture Amy, and you
know I always do my due diligence."
Iris rolled her eyes, suppressed the smile threatening to curl
her pouting lips, and stared up at the cottage rafters.
Scotti was definitely making progress.
Scotti frowned. "What's with this first menu item?
I'm to select 'PT' or 'SR5'? What's that about?"
"PT is Panty Teaser," Iris explained.
"Obvi," Scotti huffed. "And SR5?"
Iris grinned smugly. "It's something else."
"Well?" Scotti inquired after several seconds.
Iris shook her head. "You don't have a need to know."
"Need to know," Scotti scoffed, frowning at the glowing
screen. And then, her smile returned. "If only there
was something I could do to make you more...
"You need to trust me on things like this," Iris purred,
"otherwise your research might get off—TRAAACK! Turn it
off! Turn it off!"
Scotti had stabbed the screen and the Panty Teaser had responded
by continuously vibrating on full power! She
stabbed the screen again and the clearly audible buzzing
Big brown eyes wide, Iris panted for several seconds, then
turned her head and rounded on her captor. "Full power
without any warning? That just isn't done!
"Terribly sorry," Scotti chuckled, still staring at the
screen and scrolling through the control settings. "SR5
wouldn't refer to whatever Special Catalog item you guys keep in
the fifth storeroom of the storage building, would it?"
Iris turned her head back to once again stare up at the
rafters. "You're not as stupid as you look," she
muttered. "But torture me all you want. I still
won't tell you. I value our friendship too much to
degrade your research program by spoiling a really juicy future
surprise opportunity in such an egregious fashion."
"How sweet of you," Scotti purred. "Here, I think I've
found the program I need. If I'm reading the abbreviated
description correctly, it steadily builds from minimum to
maximum over the course of five minutes. So..." She
stabbed the screen.
Iris flinched... then began squirming her hips. The Panty
Teaser was just barely vibrating... and was just barely
audible. "I suppose you think this will make me talk," she
"No, Agent DuPont. I think it will make you cum,"
Scotti chuckled, "and whenever you do cum, I'll
immediately shift this thing to continuous maximum. That
should make you talk. Tell me what's in the fifth
storeroom... and how we can use it to torture Amy."
Slowly... inexorably... the Panty Teaser's intensity began to
build... and there was nothing Iris could do about it. Yes,
without a doubt, she mused, Scotti is quite
definitely making progress, rapid progress!
| Chapter 10