THE CASE FILES OF "DR. BONDAGE"
days after being rescued;
Five days after release from the hospital.
Charlie and Adele were under
doctors' orders to rest. For most people, that would mean
no vigorous exercise. But for a couple of trained dancers
preparing for a new show, that meant clandestine and unofficial
rehearsals with more than the usual number of rest breaks as
their only concession. As far as they were concerned, they
were fully recovered from their ordeals at the hands of Dr. B
and Suki. Besides, to coin a phrase, the show must go on.
The costars and friends (who were rapidly becoming best buddies)
were doing just that, rehearsing and, at the moment, taking a
relaxing break in Charlie's apartment. She had the space,
with solidly built hardwood floors and a downstairs neighbor who
worked during the day, so they could pound the boards without
complaint. There was no need to make the trek to the dance
studios in Gail's building or get into arguments with their
fellow cast and crew about who was supposed to be taking it
easy. Besides, Charlie's place was more... intimate.
Today they were working on the number that would open the third
act. Charlie's character had just won the dance-off with
the Jawa-girls, she'd taken possession of her prize, meaning
Adele, and they were trekking through the desert. Both
were wearing dancing shoes and tights. Adele was in a
leotard and Charlie in a tank-top, and both had worked up
Adele's outfit was all black, with the only contrast being the
matte finish of her tights against the satin finish of her
sleeveless leotard. Her hair was pulled back in a tight
ponytail enforced by an elastic scrunchie.
Charlie's tights were silver-gray and her tank-top a dusky shade
of burgundy. Her hair was plaited in a single braid
secured at the tip by a lace-thin black ribbon.
There was one more detail, and it was required by the scene they
were rehearsing. Adele's wrists were tied behind her back
with a three-foot length of white nylon rope. In addition,
a twelve-foot length of the same kind of rope was loosely tied
around her neck with a non-compacting knot and acting as a
leash. It was the way the Jawas presented Adele to Charlie
and the way she would remain through the entire scene.
There was some discussion about exactly what color of rope would
be used for the final production. All agreed it must be
light in color to contrast with Commander Pandara's (Adele's)
Imperial Navy uniform, but there was debate as to whether or not
it should also contrast with Yanni Starclashi's (Charlie's)
bronze bikini, long, flowing, blue-gray loincloth, and tan
desert boots. The emerging consensus was that the rope
should be either silver-gray or copper-orange.
Such was the production of a Broadway show, a million decisions
to be made, any of which might seem trivial to the outsider.
Adele was comfortably sprawled on Charlie's couch, despite her
"bondage," and Charlie was returning from the kitchen with a
cold bottle of filtered water.
"I still don't like the neck-rope," Charlie huffed as she took a
swig, then held the bottle so her "prisoner" and costar could
"We can't do the tug-of-war business during the choruses without
a leash," Adele noted.
"Yeah," Charlie sighed, "but Murphy is always lurking in the
wings." She flopped onto the couch next to Adele.
Adele smiled her trademark lopsided grin. "Murphy's Law?"
Charlie nodded. "Six months into the show, probably at a
Saturday matinee, I'm gonna get sloppy, or you're
gonna get sloppy, and one of us is gonna trip on the rope and
snap your neck."
"Highly unlikely," Adele countered.
"But marginally possible," Charlie. "You know how it
goes. If there's an open trapdoor on stage, eventually
somebody is gonna fall down the damn thing, even if everyone in
the scene has danced around it for a year. Murphy's Law."
Adele shrugged, which her bondage did allow. "Point taken,
but what can we do about it?"
"Well..." Charlie smiled her trademark goofy smile
(with dimples). "I've been thinking about some of the ways
Dr. Bitch and her sidekick Suckie tied us up, and I may
have a solution."
Adele turned her head and favored her costar with a dubious
look. "I'm offstage only two minutes near the end of the
Jawa scene before they drag me out and hand you my leash.
That's hardly enough time to get trussed into something that
elaborate." She gave her wrist bonds a halfhearted
tug. "Besides, we agreed not to talk about it."
The "it" in question was their shared kidnapping ordeal, of
"Don't be silly," Charlie chuckled. "I know it will have
to be danceable."
"Danceable bondage," Adele purred.
"Yes," Charlie nodded, "only pretty."
"Oh, pretty danceable bondage," Adele chuckled.
"Why didn't you say so?"
Charlie favored her costar with her best petulant pout.
"Are you gonna let me show you," she huffed, "or not?"
Adele rolled her eyes and heaved a theatrical sigh.
"Well... if I have to."
Charlie grinned. "It'll be fun," she said, then untied
Adele's leash, spun her around, and began working on her wrist
bonds. "If it works, of course."
"Of course," Adele agreed.
a box-tie," Charlie said.
Adele twisted her upper body and tugged on her bound
wrists. Her arms were folded behind her back with her
wrists crossed and pressing against her spine a few inches below
her shoulder blades. Doubled strands of a single long
length of the same white nylon rope as her former bonds enforced
the arrangement, passing above and below her breasts, yoking her
shoulders, pinning her upper arms to her torso, and binding her
wrists. The key knot was at the nape of her neck.
Charlie smiled. "You can't reach the knot, can you?"
"What knot?" Adele muttered, still struggling and testing
Charlie patted the knot in question. "This knot."
Adele fluttered her fingers, straining to reach the simple
double hitch. Her fingertips brushed against the inch or
so of free ends dangling from the knot, but didn't even come
close to the knot itself. "No." She continued
writhing and squirming. "This is tight."
"No," Adele conceded, then climbed to her feet. She took a
few tentative steps, then danced a few more. "This will
work, but you think they can put me into it in the time
Still smiling, Charlie nodded. "That was actually my first
time tying a box-tie, and I did it in under two
minutes. Piece of cake. Besides, this is as simple a
version as it gets, and it looks great."
Adele's smile turned a little shy. "It does?"
"You do," Charlie confirmed.
"Where'd you learn to do this?" Adele demanded, twisting and
Charlie walked to a bookshelf, returned with a large format,
soft cover book, and held it so Adele could see the cover.
The title was Bondage for Sex, Volume 1, and the author
was someone named Chanta Rose. The cover illustration was
a photo of an apparently nude woman having her wrists tied by a
pair of female hands. "I found it at Strand Books."
Adele blinked in surprise. "I take it Bondage for
Dancing was out of stock?"
"How droll," Charlie purred. "It has good
illustrations. That's why I bought it."
"Of course," Adele agreed, then watched as Charlie retrieved her
former leash, threaded one end of the long rope under the
doubled strands above and below her breasts, then turned a cinch
into a secure knot. This pulled the chest ropes together,
forming an "X" between her breasts.
"That's even tighter," Adele noted.
"And now we can really lean into the tug-of-war sequences,"
Charlie said with a bright smile. "Seriously. All
this looks complicated, but it's not. Above the boobs
loop—below the boobs loop—under the elbow, up and behind the
head, then down and under the other elbow to yoke the
shoulders—once around the wrists—then one quick knot. Add
the leash rope in front, and voilà. Two
minutes? Easy-peasy, with a half-minute to spare."
"Well..." Adele gave her bonds one last squirming
test. "Let's try it."
They were using a piano recording of the show's music on
Charlie's laptop and playing it through her home theater's
wireless speakers. Charlie selected the appropriate track,
pressed the "enter" key, then hurried to grab the end of Adele's
leash and take her place.
They ran through the entire number, twice. The new rope
arrangement worked perfectly, and allowed them to be more
aggressive in their moves.
Adele said she had an idea. There was a sequence where she
could spin several times as she "struggled" to escape and
Charlie "struggled" to control her. This would wind the
leash rope around her body several times. Charlie could
give the rope a jerk, and Adele would spin away like a top until
she was checked by the rope. They never would have tried
it with the leash around Adele's neck, but tied to her breast
ropes it was a safe and spectacular move. They couldn't
wait to show it to the choreographers and see what else they
would come up with.
They danced the scene with the new move two more times,
then flopped back down on the couch, breathing heavily and even
"Well... I guess it works," Adele gasped, then turned to look at
her costar. Charlie was gazing back, and her expression
was strangely grave. "What is it?" Adele asked.
"I... I wanted so much to help you," Charlie answered in a near
whisper. "But I couldn't."
Adele knew exactly what Charlie was talking about. It was
the subject they'd both agreed not to talk about, but
apparently Charlie had changed her mind. Adele managed an
encouraging smile. "I wanted to help you too, but we were
"I know, but..." Charlie pulled her bound costar into a
warm embrace and rested her head against Adele's shoulder.
"She was so mean, and all I could do was watch... when they had
us together, I mean."
"I know," Adele sighed, "but we're both okay. She didn't
"She said she wouldn't," Charlie noted.
Adele frowned. "When did she say that? Suki kept
hinting that we were going to end up in a Jersey landfill when
they were through playing with us."
"Dr. B told me they were gonna release us unharmed,"
Charlie muttered. "Mind games. They were playing
mind games. I was so scared when she flogged you."
"I was pissed off when they tickled you," Adele
"You were so brave," Charlie sighed, giving Adele's
bound body a gentle squeeze.
Adele's smile returned. "You were brave too, Charlie."
Charlie sighed, and they lay together in silence for several
seconds. Bound as she was, Adele didn't have much choice
about cuddling with her costar on the couch, but she didn't
"At least the food was good," Charlie said after a while.
Adele's eyes popped wide. "What?"
"The food," Charlie reiterated. "I don't know who their
caterer was, but—"
"You like dog food?" Adele demanded.
Charlie turned and stared at Adele in shock. "Dog food?"
"Every meal," Adele confirmed. "I take it you were served
"That bitch!" Charlie huffed. "Yes... different.
More mind games." She heaved another sigh. "I'm
"It's not like you could—Mrf!" Adele's eyes popped
wide. Charlie had leaned in and kissed her!
"I sooo wanted to be able to help you," Charlie sighed.
"You were so helpless. And so beautiful."
Adele realized her heart was pounding, and she suspected
Charlie's was, as well. "Uh... you too," she said,
finally, then leaned forward and they kissed, again.
"Well," Charlie said with a warm, dimpled smile, "you're safe
now, and I'm going to keep you that way." They kissed
again, and this time the kiss was long and wet, with tongues.
Finally, they came up for air.
"I take it you like girls?" Adele asked. She was smiling.
They both were smiling.
"I like beautiful, talented people," Charlie purred, "boys and
girls." Her hands were caressing Adele's rope-framed
breasts and toying with her nipples. They were rigid,
poking the satiny black fabric of the leotard, and by Adele's
reactions, Charlie could tell they were very
sensitive. "How 'bout you?"
"The same, I guess," Adele answered, and they kissed, again.
Their tongues twirled and lips smacked, and finally, after
several long seconds, the kiss ended.
"Untie me so we can do this properly," Adele purred.
"No," Charlie replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
Adele affected a wounded pout. "I take it Dr. Bitch has
created a monster? Or have you always been into ropes?"
Charlie's grin turned wicked. "Never. This is the
first time I've personally kidnapped a damsel-in-distress.
As for Dr. Bitch... I suppose she's widened my horizons a
little, but..." She kissed Adele's smiling lips.
"You know I'd never hurt you, don't you?"
Adele returned the kiss. "More mind games?"
Charlie's eyes narrowed in outrage, but her lips were still
curled in a smile and her cheeks dimpled. "No, it's not
more mind games. I'll never hurt you."
Adele smiled. "I know," she said in a whisper. Both
pair of eyes were welling. "Anyway," Adele said after a
while, "untie me so we can get out of these sweaty clothes, take
"Share a shower," Charlie interrupted.
"Share a shower, Adele continued, "and do this right."
"I told you," Charlie chuckled, "no."
"I'm not done sucking face." She leaned close and nuzzled
Adele's neck. "Of course, you can always escape.
Then, you might capture me, and you'd be the one
keeping me safe."
"Fat chance," Adele purred, squirming in her ropes.
"You're the one who's been studying that book."
"Well..." Charlie planted a kiss on Adele's pouting
lips. "After our shower, we could have a wrestling match
to see who gets to keep who safe."
"You mean who gets to keep whom safe," Adele said.
"Shut up," Charlie replied, then kissed Adele's lips,
again. "And don't worry about the book. If you win
the match, I'll give you my parole while you study the
illustrations. I'll even make suggestions."
"Dr. Bitch has created a monster," Adele chuckled.
"Shut up," Charlie reiterated, and the make-out session resumed.
Adele continued fighting Charlie's box-tie, even as their lips
sucked and tongues probed, but her costar had done her work too
well. She was, indeed, helpless... and safe.
at another of Dr. B's many secret lairs...
The room was off the
basement of an outbuilding, well away from the main house, the
garage, and the workshop where Dr. B and Suki fabricated many of
their "fun" items.
Suki was wearing black jeans, sandals (not boots), and a
baggy black t-shirt over a skintight, purple tank-top. Her
hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Basically, she was in
one of her casual-at-lair lounging outfits.
Beebe, on the other hand, was in leather—hideously expensive,
custom crafted, skintight, and body-hugging leather. It
was a full-length catsuit, with gloves and boots. They were ballet
boots, actually, that kept her feet permanently pointed.
The suit also had integrated, locking straps and buckles—lots
of integrated locking straps and buckles. Half simply
encircled a part of her anatomy and buckled tight, for aesthetic
purposes. The other half were more functional, serving to
anchor the straps of a separate, overlying body-harness of
heavier straps. Strictly speaking, the anchoring straps weren't
absolutely necessary, for once the harness was buckled in place,
it wasn't going anywhere. It was that favorite of bondage
themes, beloved by both Suki and her lover, boss, and
All of the suit's zipper-fobs and buckles (including the straps
and harness) locked by means of tiny, flush-mounted levers that
snapped into recessed slots. This required a specialized
tool, one end of which closed the spring-loaded locking pins and
the other opened them. Without the tool, Beebe could
fiddle with the steel fittings for hours without result,
assuming her fingers were free to fiddle with anything,
of course, which they were not.
Beebe was wearing gloves, highly specialized gloves. The
fingers and thumbs were stitched together along their entire
lengths, thus imposing a flipper-type pose on her hands.
Arguably, this made them more mitts than gloves; but the
outlines of the individual fingers were clearly visible, so
Beebe and Suki had agreed to call them "gloves."
Regardless of the designation, they included wrist enclosures
designed to fit under the catsuit's wide, heavy wrist cuffs
without bunching, and each glove had a one-inch diameter steel
ring solidly stitched in place and dangling from the fingertips.
The only parts of Beebe's anatomy exposed to the basement air
were her head and her breasts. The catsuit's collar was
wide and stiff, nearly a posture collar, but it did allow
limited head movement. The circular breast openings were
lined with what might be called gaskets, and included lace-thin
leather nooses that could be tightened, knotted, and the free
ends threaded through locking clamps for security.
Properly adjusted, as now, they caused Beebe's breasts to bulge,
just a little. It was enough to make them blush and become
very sensitive, but not enough to cause long-term
damage. Suki was expert in such adjustments, and at the
moment (and until she was released from her leather prison)
Beebe's boobs were firm, pink, vulnerable pillows
emerging from the suit like a pair of large, delectable button
mushrooms wearing pinkish-mauve nipple-caps.
And then there was the "couch," upon which Beebe was
"comfortably reclined." She was on her back with her
outstretched arms to either side and her legs splayed widely
apart, only a few degrees shy of a full split. There was a
pillow-soft rest to support her head and neck, for which Beebe
was thankful, but otherwise the couch had only minimal padding.
There were means to insure that Beebe remained in place, of
course. D-rings sewn into both the catsuit's straps and
the overlying harness had been inserted into slots in the frame,
where they locked in place. Also, the rings at Beebe's
fingertips had been clipped through locking brackets, holding
her gloved hands palm up and at full stretch. In addition,
ankle-straps and a pair of cavities for the boot-heels secured
Beebe's ballet-booted feet on point. Finally,
custom-sized, steel cuffs and brackets on hinges swung over
strategic parts of Beebe's leather-clad anatomy and had been
secured by means of bolts that screwed into the frame.
Suki was using a cordless electric driver to secure the last of
"There," Suki said with a dimpled grin. "That should hold
you." This was the ultimate in clichés, as steel brackets
or leather straps secured Beebe to the frame at her wrists,
above and below her elbows, her waist, thighs, above and below
her knees, her ankles, and at a dozen or more other
places. Beebe could barely squirm.
"Just get on with it, would you?" Beebe purred. Her heart
was pounding, as she had only a general idea of what her
sidekick and lover had in mind for her agreed upon twenty-four
hour of "welcome home entertainment" to which she was already
committed. She had her suspicions, but to coin a phrase,
Beebe was completely at Suki's mercy. "Taking time out for
gloating is not only inefficient," Beebe continued, "but very déclassé."
"Well la-de-da," Suki giggled. "Just for that..."
She produced a ball-gag, thrust the ball into her prisoner's
mouth, then buckled its strap at the nape of her neck.
Beebe sighed through the gag. It was a simple
"breather-gag," an inch-and-a-half rubber sphere pierced by a
quarter-inch hole and one of the simplest and least effective
damsel-silencers in the lair's extensive inventory.
However, it served its purpose: to make Beebe feel even more
helpless and vulnerable.
And speaking of vulnerable...
Suki left the chamber... there was a pause of several seconds...
then she returned wheeling the latest generation of their
semi-portable "orgasmatron." Put bluntly, it was a fucking
machine, a vibrating phallus on a piston with a half-dozen
articulated, robotic arms terminating in vibrating and/or
tickling probes. It was the current technological peak of
their ongoing research to develop a computer-controlled machine
that could stimulate a captive female to orgasm, deny
her orgasm but keep her on the cusp, or anything in
between. Their scientific quest was definitely making
progress, and Beebe suspected their recent enhancements of the
hardware and software might be approaching the point of
diminishing returns. Anyway, the gathering of data was a
never-ending task, and apparently Beebe was the lab rat du
Beebe sighed as Suki attached adhesive sensor pads to her
throat, to monitor her pulse and breathing. The little
Goth then released the zipper running up her crotch and used the
tiny straps and clips built into the catsuit to stretch the
opening in the garment to either side, exposing an inch of flesh
on either side of Beebe's pussy. She attached more sensor
pads, this time reaching under the suit's crotch-slit and
placing the pads on Beebe's upper thighs, on either side.
Finally, she rolled the orgasmatron to the base of the frame,
clamps engaged and clicked, locking it in place, and she plugged
the wires trailing from the various sensors into the base of the
"We don't need to set the penetration parameters," Suki purred
as she anointed the machine's phallus with lubricant, "as your
coefficients are already on file with the system." Her
evil smile broadened. "And guess what! I've got a
Suki produced a pair of clear glass cylinders the size and shape
of large test-tubes. Attached to the base of each was a
long length of clear plastic tubing that trailed down to the
base of the machine. She stepped to the side, leaned
close, and carefully placed the open ends of the cylinders over
Beebe's nipples. There was a brief pause, then a motor
hummed, air was evacuated from the cylinders, and Beebe's
nipples were stretched into the tubes. Suki then produced
a pair of plastic clamps similar to the "flowers" they had
attached to the nipples and breasts of their most recent
"customers," Adele and Charlie.
Each flower clamped around one of the nipple-stretching vacuum
tubes. Then, a ring of self-adhesive "petals" steadied and
anchored the arrangement in place. Each petal had a tiny
copper stud. They were all joined by wires, then a single
twisted pair trailed from each flower to the base of the
orgasmatron and was plugged in.
Suki smiled at her helpless boss. "Don't worry,
darling. I've set the petal-zappers at very low
power. They're less painful than... shall we say... irritating,
the proverbial itch you can't scratch. And once they start
pulsing and the nipple-suckers start sucking, together they're a
lot of fun. I let them play with my girls
for three full minutes before I had to rip them off. Of
course, I wasn't all strapped down and helpless, like you,
Beebe heaved a sigh of truly tragic proportions. They
always did something epic like this after a caper, and this time
it was Beebe's turn; but Suki seemed to have put a lot
of planning and effort into this one. Little did Beebe
Suki leaned close and planted a kiss on her captive's
forehead. "The program's already running, so a few minutes
after I leave, the fun will commence. Also..." She
produced a small touch-screen remote and pressed a virtual
Music, a song with musical accompaniment, started playing
through the room's stereo speakers. It wasn't particularly
loud, but loud enough to be easily heard. Beebe frowned as
the song progressed. Then, she sighed, again, and rolled
her eyes, and glared at her captor. The recorded voice was
Suki's, lightly filtered through auto-tune software, and Suki
herself was now dancing to the music.
Who's peeking out from under a stairway;
Suki tapped the button again and the music stopped. "Ain't
Karaoke wonderful?" she giggled. "I've got seven more
songs like that, and each one will play on a continuous loop
while the orgasmatron—now with tit-sucking enhancement—fucks
your brains out. I'll let the playlist be a surprise, but
guess what?" She struck a theatrical pose. "They're
all about me!"
Calling a name that's lighter than air?
Who's bending down to give me a rainbow?
Everyone knows it's Suki!
Who's tripping down the streets of the city;
Smiling at everybody she sees?
Who's reaching out to capture a moment?
Everyone knows it's Suki
And Suki has stormy eyes;
That flash at the sound of lies.
And Suki has wings to fly;
Above the clouds, above the clouds.
Who's tripping down the streets of the city;
Smiling at everybody she sees?
Who's reaching out to capture a moment;
Everyone knows it's Suki!
Beebe rolled her eyes, again.
"Don't worry," Suki continued. "You'll have plenty
of rest periods between orgasms. And this time we're going
for the record, or rather, you're going for the record:
most orgasms in twenty-four hours." She leaned close,
again, and kissed Beebe's gagged mouth. "No frustration,
just orgasms. Welcome home, darling!" She giggled
and skipped to the door, waved and blew her prisoner a kiss,
then closed the door.
The bolt slammed and the lock turned. Seconds later, the
lights clicked off, plunging the chamber into total
darkness. Beebe heard the muffled and diminishing sound of
Suki giggling... followed by silence. She knew that
somewhere in the orgasmatron's computer, a virtual clock was
ticking, counting down the seconds to the start of her first
orgasmic session at the mercy of the machine.
Beebe had already decided to put off planning her next
operation. Several potential clients were interested in
hiring her services, but none of the tentative contracts were
time sensitive. In any case, Dr. B and her minion/sidekick
always took a break after a job. It not only
cleansed the proverbial palate, but allowed them to play with
their most expensive and non-expendable toys, like the
orgasmatron and Beebe's custom catsuit.
Beebe heaved another sigh. Overkill-bondage from the
neck down, but a minimal gag and my head free
to flop around—insidious! Sometimes, in
Beebe's opinion, Suki had an absolute genius for counterpoint,
and this was one such instance. There were multiple hoods
and head-harnesses that went with Beebe's catsuit, but Suki had
chosen not to use any of them. Insidious!
Planning their next kidnapping could wait, but the planning of
Beebe's revenge on Suki? That had already begun. In
fact, it was complete. All was in readiness. All
Beebe had to do was survive Suki's half of the welcome home
As she waited for the orgasmatron to begin working its evil
magic, Beebe's thoughts drifted to her most recent customers,
Adele and Charlie. In Beebe and Suki's jargon, Gail was a
"client," but Adele and Charlie were "customers." It was a
much nicer term than "victims." Anyway, Beebe was looking
forward to attending an early performance of Tatooine Nights,
once the out-of-town rehearsals were over and show debuted on
Broadway. She'd have to wear a disguise, and Suki as well,
but they would attend, with box seats, if possible.
It would be a lot of fun watching such a pair of supreme talents
strut their stuff—while remembering their naked, bound, gagged,
writhing bodies under entirely different circumstances.
Suddenly, the machine between Beebe's widely splayed legs
emitted a nearly imperceptible whine, which slowly built to a
quiet hum. She knew that in less than a minute the phallus
would start thrusting and buzzing, the robotic probes would
begin stroking and vibrating against her skin, and the
"tit-suckers" would start doing their thing. The system
would slowly pick up the pace, inexorably building to the first
of the many, many orgasms Beebe would be forced to "suffer"
before Suki finally set her free. A delicate shudder
shivered through Beebe's body. She couldn't help herself.
Well, the helpless captive mused, on with the show!