From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van © 2023
		Chapter 1

☻ Jodi McJoy ☻

Jodi McJoy's detractors described her as "excessively cute," "a saucy minx," and/or "a notorious ginger" of the "clear" or "whey-faced" variety (meaning she was minimally freckled).  Also, McJoy was waaaaay too "bubbly."

Such people were definitely in the minority, however, and were an obviously jealous and snarky minority at that.  Granted, Jodi was definitely a sexy, sassy, petite package, and a total ginger, but she was also invariably kind, a generous friend, and always fun to be around.  Besides, what was wrong with being cute, petite, and a ginger, right?  That said, Jodi drew the line at "adorable."  Anyone who called Jodi McJoy "adorable" was in for a fight!

In any case, if you didn't like Jodi McJoy, probably nobody liked you either, so there!

Jodi was an investigative reporter par excellence, with a long string of noteworthy stories to her credit.  Therefore (and not surprisingly), she was something of a snoop.  What could she say?  It was her natural curiosity at play.  Anyway, Jodi's work was well-written and popular with the reading public, but unfortunately her chosen topics were not the sorts of things that generally attracted the interest of a Pulitzer Prize jury.  Nothing was ever particularly political or profound, but everything was always entertaining and occasionally titillating (within reason).  Anyway, her earlier efforts had all been freelance, but lately most of her output appeared as a byline in Domino Magazine.

Domino has carved out a somewhat unusual niche for itself among media companies―and unlike many of its competitors, it was holding its own in subscription and newsstand sales (the "dead tree" market) while simultaneously and successfully expanding into paid digital media.  Also, while Domino's reputation might be more "tabloid" than traditional mags like Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, it was not three-quarters glossy fashion and/or cosmetics ads and one-quarter actual content (like Vogue and Elle).  Granted, the magazine had its critics, but the popular consensus was that Domino had more meat on the bone than most magazines, delivered consistently solid and above all interesting journalism, and was a lot more fun than the stodgy old traditionalists.

Anyway, Domino was unarguably successful, and Jodi was proud (and financially grateful) to be a member of the staff.

So... what was Jodi's modus operandi?  She was fed assignments by Domino's editors, of course, but usually (invariably) found her own angle on the story.  At another establishment this might have caused friction (or eventually gotten her fired), but the joie de vivre, flair, and above all the quality of her work usually smoothed ruffled editorial feathers and she mostly got away with it.  Also, Jodi had a champion at the magazine, and she just happened to be Jodi's (and everybody else's) Big Boss: Dominique Defossé.

Dominique Defossé

The Defossé's were Old Money (a great big heaping pile of Old Money), with the family fortune stretching back before the Guilded Age of Robber-Barons and its hallmark unbridled monopolies and destructively exploitative capitalism.  When Dominique turned 21 she inherited her fair share of the family mega-fortune, then promptly "wasted" almost all of it creating Domino Magazine.  As her elders had feared, it was an absolute disaster... for about three years... then slowly but steadily Domino crept into the black and became a commercial success... and it had kept on growing ever since!

Dominique was now the wealthiest member of the Defossé clan, as well as the most famous and well regarded.  The gorgeous, 40-something brunette was a respected businessperson, a generous philanthropist, and something of a media star.  She granted regular interviews, was invited to give prestigious lectures, and had even acted a few carefully chosen minor roles on various television shows and movies.

This raises the question of how a fiercely independent and cute little ginger journalist nobody like Jodi McJoy came to find herself in orbit around Dominique Defossé's star.  The petite ginger in question had been working on a series about the perils of concentrated wealth and its detrimental effect on society at large and the free press in particular and somehow managed to finagle an interview with Dominique... and when the dust settled (and much to her surprise and chagrin) Jodi found herself saddled with a job, meaning a real job as a staff writer on Domino magazine!  Jodi had a desk, a regular salary, and nearly unlimited resources... including free pencils!  O, the horror!

So... cut to the present.  Jodi was summoned to Dominique's office, meaning her real office, the surprisingly modest and functional working office the Big Boss used while wearing her Creative Editor hat, as opposed to the sumptuous and palatial Official Office on the top floor reserved for her CEO duties.

Anyway, Jodi breezed past Dominique's disapproving and protesting receptionist... let herself into the inner office, flopped in a casual sprawl in one of the comfy visitor chairs in front of Dominique's normal-size desk, then beamed a happy smile and waited for her boss to finish typing whatever she was typing into her desktop workstation.

Jodi was ignored for several seconds... then Dominique tapped a final key, leaned back in her comfy, throne-like office chair, and regarded the ginger intruder/employee with a cool gaze.

"Hey, boss!" Jodi chirped, still smiling in a perky manner.

"Good morning," Dominique drawled.  "Can I get you anything?  Coffee?  Tea?  A copy of the corporate policy on workplace etiquette and professional courtesy?"

"No, I'm fine," Jodi beamed, "although I wouldn't say no to lunch in the executive dining room.  It's Taco Tuesday if I'm right."

Dominique rolled her remarkable, dark-brown eyes (and managed not to smile).  "What do you know about the Blissful Beach Spa?" she inquired.

Jodi frowned.  Blissful Beach...  "Uh... not much.  It's a swanky, exclusive resort on one of the smaller Hawaiian islands, isn't it?"

Dominique nodded.  "Very exclusive, very expensive, and very isolated."

Jodi nodded back.  "So..."

Dominique favored her employee with a thin smile.  "It's come to my attention that something slightly hinky might be going on out there."

Jodi's frown deepened.  (It was very cute.)  "Hinky?  I don't do hinky."

"Oh please," Dominique chuckled.  "Your specialty is hinky.  Without hinky you wouldn't have a career."

Jodi reacted with a wounded pout.  "I resent that fully accurate characterization."

"Anyway," Dominique continued, "it's all just vague rumors at this point, but celebrities are involved so it might make for a good story.  I've sent you an e-mail with everything I know, which isn't very much.  So, hop your ass on a plane and check it out.  At the very least it should make a nice travelogue.  We've managed to book you a one week stay at their cheapest level of service.  Keep your eyes open and take good mental notes."

Jodi's brow knitted.  "A week at a world-class spa and resort on a tropical island?  If I have to, but will a mere week be enough?  Maybe we should make it a full month.  Open ended would be better."

"Get out!" Dominique laughed, pointing at the door.  "Tickets and other paperwork should already be on their way to your inbox."

"I'm on it!" Jodi beamed and bounced out of her chair.  "What about lunch?"

Dominique smiled.  "Yes, it is 'Taco Tuesday.'  Report to the dining room at twelve sharp."

Jodi smiled and quivered with enthusiasm.  (Again, it was very cute.)  "Yum!  Really?  You're inviting me to lunch?"

"Either that or I'm looking forward to watching the staff throw you out."  She pointed at the door again.  "Go!"

Jodi giggled and made her exit... ignoring the stony stare from Dominique's receptionist as she scampered across the outer office.

After flying into Honolulu International (preferably on Hawaiian Airlines, of course) there are only two ways for guests to get to the Blissful Beach Spa: (1) take the resort's seaplane directly to the spa, or (2) take an overnight cruise on the "tall ship" Lady Gwendoline, a schooner (or brig or whatever is her correct designation).  Domino's bean-counters had booked Jodi on the spa's "Economy-B" package, so she only rated the boat-trip, but the final leg of the journey was still a hoot-and-a-half, a nautical hoot-and-a-half.  Luckily, although at the moment the Hawaiian Channel was arguably rough, Jodi had never been plagued by seasickness and found the heaving, spray-washed voyage to be quite exhilarating.

By the way, Jodi was traveling under the alias "Jacqueline Joyuex."  Supposedly, she was an accountant being treated to a lush vacation by her rich boss as a reward for having successfully navigated a complicated tax audit without anybody going to jail.  It was all very... clandestine.

Anyway, Lady Gwendoline docked at the resort late in the afternoon and Jodi was impressed.  She decided the milieu could best be described as "Modern Polynesian," with longhouse-style buildings, all stained or painted in pleasing Tropical earth-tones, as well as clusters of cabanas and/or bungalows with sloping roofs clad with sculpted green tiles that somehow managed to evoke palm-fronds.  The structures were timber-frame, any solid walls involved were black lava-rock, and most had extensive glass window-walls well-shaded by roof overhangs, strongly suggesting air conditioned interiors, which would be a good thing given the elevated level of the Hawaiian air temperature and humidity.

In terms of landscaping, the spa was engulfed by a veritable jungle/rain-forest of swaying palms, banyan trees, and lush plantings of flowering shrubs interspersed with water features in the form of bubbling fountains and landscaped waterfalls.  There were also a handful of free-standing lava-rock monoliths.  Very pretty and... Hawaiian.

The backdrop was the usual rippling rills of lush green volcanic mountains, and set back from the beach, dock, and the various bungalows was a large multi-storied building.  Architecturally, it matched the other structures, only it was much taller, something like five or six stories.

Anyway, to the left of the modest boathouse and dock was a beach of beige coral sand with the usual array of reclining loungers shaded by umbrellas.  A few were occupied by obviously physically fit, healthy, and scantily clad (or possibly naked) women Jodi assumed to be guests, as well as obviously physically fit and healthy women clad in sarongs and bikini-style tops serving drinks and rubbing lotion on the reclined guests.  Unfortunately, they were all on the far side of the beach and between the bright sun and the distance Jodi was unable to identify any possible celebrities.  It was clear, however, that all the women were in very good shape and were a mixture of races, skin-tones, and hair-colors.

Griselda Bruno

Suddenly, Jodi's visual evaluation was interrupted by the arrival of a tall(ish), hefty, very comely, 30-something European brunette wearing a black, skimpy, and complicated one-piece swimsuit that was little more than spaghetti straps and few narrow panels.  There was also a Bliss Beach Spa name-tag engraved with the unlikely sobriquet of "Griselda Bruno."  Actually, in Jodi's opinion, only the first name was unlikely.  (She had always considered the name "Griselda" to be unlikely.)  However, the "Bruno" surname was entirely likely.  The woman was built like the proverbial brick outhouse.  And comely?  She was gorgeous, well-muscled, and tan, and she moved like a trained athlete... and was gorgeous.  Jodi surmised "Griselda Bruno" was her staff guide.

"Welcome to Blissful Island Spa," the amazon announced with a friendly (gorgeous) smile.  "I'm your guide, Griselda."

Nailed it in one!  Jodi managed a not-at-all-overawed-and-intimidated smile and offered her hand.  "Hi.  I'm Jacqueline Joyuex, but please call me Jacki."

Griselda's handshake was firm and strong.  "Certainly, Jacki."  She picked up "Jacki's" suitcase and laptop-bag (as if both were empty) and gestured to one of the paths leading away from the dock.  "This way to your bungalow."

I get a bungalow! Jodi thought as she followed her guide.  Oh by the way, Jodi was wearing a lightweight sundress (in a pretty floral print with a salmon-pink background) and a pair of sandals, was feeling both overdressed and overheated, and also a tad sweaty.  Hawaii always takes a little getting used to.  Also, everyone in sight, near and far, was wearing substantially less than a sundress.  She looked forward to changing into the jade-green one-piece racing-suit squirreled away in her suitcase.

Meanwhile, the Lady Gwendoline was already motoring away from the dock, setting sail, and heading for its next port of call.  Her remaining passengers (with whom Jodi had only made a polite, casual acquaintance) waved from the rails.

Jodi waved back, as did the distant women on the beach.  Jodi frowned.  Only the assumed serving staff were doing the waving.  All the assumed guests remained reclined on their loungers and were not waving.  It was a little... odd.  She shrugged, reasserted her smile, then scampered to catch up with her guide, the gorgeous amazonian Griselda.

Jodi's (meaning Jacki's) bungalow was very nice.  She remained impressed.  If these were "Economy-B" accommodations, the supposed wealthy celebrities with more expensive bookings must be in penthouse suites atop the big building―but that couldn't be right.  The building in question was set back too far from the beach.  Anyway, Jodi didn't have any complaints, not even one!  She had plenty of room, including a queen or maybe king-size bed, as well as entirely adequate and obviously comfy casual seating.  Also, the decor carried forward the Polynesian/Hawaiian theme and everything was very easy on the eyes.  Three of the four walls were expanses of slightly tinted glass, all set back from the roof edge to keep them in the shade for most of the day.  There was efficient but non-intrusive air conditioning, as she'd surmised, making Jodi comfortable but not chilly, even though she'd just stepped out of the tropical sun.

"Why don't you freshen up in the shower," Griselda suggested with a graceful gesture, indicating an open door that led to what was obviously the bathroom.  "I'll be back shortly for your orientation."  She then set Jodi's suitcase on a typical hotel stand, the laptop-bag on the bungalow's small but fully adequate writing desk, then padded towards the entry door.

Jodi glanced at the bathroom, then back at her "guide," but Griselda was already completing her exit.  I guess tipping happens at the conclusion of the visit, she decided, also...  nice butt.  Jodi was referencing Griselda-the-Amazon's derrière, of course, which any objective ogler would agree was firm and, uh, attractive... not that Jodi was a rump aficionado, of course, male or female.  In any case, Griselda's keister was undeniably worthy of appreciation.

Anyway, a shower sounded like a very good idea.  Jodi unlocked and opened her suitcase, rummaged inside until she found her swimsuit, then laid it out on the bed.  Next she removed her sandals, sundress, and underlying "soft-beige" strapless bandeau-bra and matching bikini-briefs―then hung the dress in the bungalow's modest closet, placed the sandals on the closet floor, and dropped the undies in a convenient hamper.  She made a mental note to ask about laundry services, assuming it wasn't covered in Griselda's upcoming orientation briefing, then closed the closet door and executed a nude, full-body stretch... arching her back and reaching for the exposed timber rafters overhead.  "Eyaaah!"  She then padded into the supposed bathroom.

It was a bathroom, and a luxuriously large bathroom at that.  The commode was state-of-the-art (with a built-in bidet function), there was the usual mirror and washbasin, a large (and decadent) Jacuzzi-style soaking tub half-sunken into the floor, and a generous step-in shower, large enough that it didn't need a shower curtain!  The decor matched the rest of the bungalow, the floor tiles were the color of beach sand, and the shower tiles a soothing shade of lichen-green.

Wet Jodi

Jodi availed herself of the plumbing (meaning she emptied her bladder and tested the bidet), then turned on the shower, used the digital control to adjust the water temperature to a comfortably warm setting, and stepped under the stream.  Jodi didn't waste water, or not much as the shower-head appeared to be a low-stream design.  That said, she did take time to enjoy the experience.  She also indulged her longish ginger hair in a shampoo and conditioning using the complementary Blissful Beach hair care products.  Jodi lathered and rinsed... but did not repeat.  Water conservation is a virtue.

Clean, wet from head to toe, lightly Vanilla/Gardenia-scented (thanks to Blissful Beach's quality products), and decidedly refreshed, Jodi turned off the shower, reached for a large, fluffy towel―and suddenly something quite remarkable happened!

Jodi's naked and dripping wet body was abruptly and unexpectedly grabbed from behind!  "Wha?-MMMF!"

Simultaneously, some sort of cloth, possibly a rolled terrycloth washcloth, had been crammed into Jodi's mouth!  It propped open her jaws and had a strap of some sort that tightened against the nape of her neck with a zipping-ripping-rattling sound.  Vrrrip!  Then, Jodi's tangled, wet hair was pulled free, and the strap was tightened again!  Vrip!  And it all happened with blinding speed!

Needless to say, this was totally out of the proverbial blue, and whoever was doing it was very strong and remarkably adept at physically manipulating slippery-wet, totally-naked, struggling-and-squirming women―like, for instance and at the moment―Jodi McJoy!

"Mrrrpfh!"  Jodi decided the cloth tube wedged in her mouth was probably a washcloth rolled around what might be a plastic cable-tie, and she was finding the combo to be a remarkably effective gag!  "Mrrrfh!"  Also, as she struggled, tried to flail her arms and kick her legs, and generally fought like the proverbial wildcat, she managed to get a passing glance in the mirror above the washbasin and discovered that her captor was none other than Griselda Bruno, her Blissful Beach guide!  "Mrrrfh?"

Controlling Jodi's naked, dripping wet, petite form with smiling confidence and zero difficulty, Griselda dragged her from the bathroom and into the main bungalow, then tossed her onto the bed!  Jodi bounced once―"MRRRM!"―then resumed squirming and struggling as Griselda pounced!

Some sort of thin, white, braided nylon cord (550-paracord?) tightened around Jodi's wrists, ankles, and the rest of her naked and still very wet body!  Griselda was doing the tying, of course, and Jodi and her captor appeared to be alone in the bungalow.  Also, even with the distraction of all that was happening, Jodi had the presence of mind to notice that she was sharing the bed with a number of neatly coiled bundles of the aforementioned white cord, her green swimsuit had gone AWOL, the closet was open and empty, and her suitcase and laptop-case were side-by-side next to the bungalow's entry door.  Apparently somebody (presumably Griselda) had repacked her things while she was in the shower.

Griselda continued her work, easily controlling Jodi's energetic but pathetic and increasing cord-impeded struggles, and without saying a word.  She was smiling, however.  Also, the amazon was still wearing her skimpy black one-piece swimsuit, making her nearly as naked as poor, squirming Jodi.

When the proverbial dust settled... Griselda climbed off the bed, folded her muscular arms under her boobs, and smiled down at her prisoner.

Jodi executed a half-roll and stared up at her gloating, smiling captor.  Jodi was not smiling.  The rolled cloth bit-gag wedged in her mouth was enforcing a permanent grimace, but she was not smiling.  What she was was naked, gagged, and bound with an abundance of thin white cord from her shoulders to her big toes!  Specifically...

☻ Multiple strands pinned Jodi's upper arms against her torso, yoked her shoulders, and passed above, below, and crisscrossed between her breasts!

☻ More multiple strands pressed her elbows together until they were nearly touching behind her back!

☻ Even more multiple strands encircled her waist, pinned her forearms against her lower back, and were cinched between her lower torso and arms!

☻ Also, the waist cords anchored additional cords that dove between Jodi's legs, cleaved her buttocks, and framed and cleaved her pussy!  Yes, her pussy!  Jodi's pussy!

☻ Her wrists were bound together with her hands palm-to-palm by more multiple strands, and with a web of doubled and cinched strands binding her hands, fingers, and thumbs!

☻ Multiple strands bound her legs together at her mid-thighs, above and below her knees, her lower-legs, and her ankles, and each of the bindings had been cinched several times!

☻ In a similar fashion to her hands-thumbs-fingers bondage, doubled strands anchored to her ankle bonds were cinched around and between Jodi's feet and tied her big toes together!

☻ All the knots were complex, well-compacted, tucked away somehow, and depressingly far from her cord-impeded fingers, thumbs, and hands!

In short, Jodi was tied up―Jodi was very tied up―and naked and gagged!  She squirmed her helpless body for several seconds, testing her bonds.  Not unexpectedly, every element of her predicament passed the test.  Also, she rolled and flopped on the bed like the proverbial fish out of water, and at least a little she was still appropriately wet!  It was humiliating.

Finally, Jodi blinked her green eyes, several times, and resumed gazing up at her handler.  They call it 'rigging, Jodi decided, so that makes Griselda a 'rigger,' right?  Unfortunately Jodi's gag prevented her from asking the only expert present, the smiling, gloating, brunette rigger in question.

And then, still smiling her deceptively friendly and unarguably gorgeous smile, Griselda turned and strolled back into the bathroom.

"Mrrrf?" Jodi inquired, but didn't receive an explanation.

Seconds passed... then Griselda returned with a towel and a comb and brush set.  She sat on the bed, pulled Jodi up into a sitting position, squirmed until they were close, then scissored her strong, tan, muscular legs around Jodi's waist, more-or-less embracing her cord-bound captive from behind.  The front of Griselda's swim-suit-clad, amazonian body pressed against the bound arms and back of Jodi's naked, petite, helpless form!

Jodi squirmed and complained.  "Mrrrpfh!"

"Hold still, please," Griselda purred, then unfolded the towel and begin briskly drying Jodi's still wet and tangled hair.

All things considered, Jodi considered not having wet and tangled hair to be a good thing, so she did, indeed, hold still, as requested (ordered), stopped making pathetic gagged noises, and stoically tolerated/endured the brisk, fluffy toweling.  Griselda continued her dehydrating efforts.  After about a minute... Griselda tossed the towel to the side and began carefully, gently combing her way through Jodi's damp and still water-darkened red hair.  Jodi decided to continue cooperating, not wanting any hypothetical struggling on her part to tug on the inevitable snarls and painfully punish her scalp.

Jodi had to admit Griselda was doing a good job, both in terms of tying her up and gently and efficiently dealing with the bird's-nest-mess of her hair.  Maybe she started off as a hairdresser, then added kidnapping and bondage to her repertoire, the naked prisoner reasoned.  Meanwhile, Griselda was plaiting Jodi's hair in a tight, three-part, single-braid.  This took a while, and with her hair still at least somewhat damp, Jodi knew from experience that whenever her hair was un-braided, her naturally semi-straight-but-wavy tresses would be significantly curlier, even downright... ethnic.  It would be all over but the kilts, bagpipes, and Highland Flings!  Meanwhile, Griselda was using something to secure the end of the now completed braid, possibly a length of cord or a hair-ribbon.  Then, Griselda climbed off the bed and returned the towel, brush, and comb to the bathroom.

The naked prisoner abandoned on the bed heaved a disgruntled, gagged sigh, wiggled and squirmed, giving her elaborate, inescapable bonds another pathetic workout, then focused on the bathroom door and glared at Griselda as she padded back to the bed, resumed her gloating arms-crossed-under-her-boobs stance, and smiled.

"So, Ms. Joyuex," Griselda beamed, "again, welcome to Blissful Beach Spa."

Jodi continued glowering at her captor.  Apparently, this was the start of the promised orientation lecture.

"Every day of the 'B' package includes many fun activities," Griselda continued.  "I won't go into detail at this time as that would compromise the suspense element of our carefully designed diversions.  As your Personal Concierge, I suggest you allow yourself to acclimatize to your surroundings and relax.  You're in our hands, now, Jacki, and we'll take good care of you."

Wait-wait-wait! Jodi thought.  'Fun' activities?  I didn't agree to any 'fun' activities!  The magazine booked me a ticket and... and... that was it!  She tugged on her bonds―Ouch!―then flinched when the cords traveling between her legs slid and pinched her pussy in a somewhat complicated manner.  Jodi then doubled down on her gagged-and-glowering-glare, but it seemed to have no effect on her gloating, beautiful, cord-happy "Personal Concierge."

Griselda continued smiling down at her captive.  "Very cute," she sighed, then shook her head.  "Anyway, I hope you had a nice lunch aboard Lady Gwendoline, because it's the spa's standard policy for all clients to fast on their day of arrival.  It gives our staff nutritionists a baseline for their customized meal programs."

Jodi's green eyes widened.  'Fast?' ... 'Fast?' ... As in NO FOOD??  Put to bed naked and tied up and gagged and NO SUPPER??  That's an outrage!!  I didn't sign up for any 'fast!!'  "Mrrrmpfh!" she complained.

"So cute," Griselda reiterated, then cleared her throat.  "Ahem.  Anyway, I assure you that you can look forward to a delicious breakfast personally tailored to your needs.  Our gourmet chef and her highly trained and motivated kitchen staff are truly world class."

Apparently, the overly muscled and gorgeous amazon with the grabby hands was serious!  Jodi really was being put to bed without any supper!  And as for cute...  it wasn't Jodi's fault she was cute, and there was nothing she could do about it... especially when she was naked, bound, and gagged.  I should have demanded a couple of days for more preliminary research before I flew out here, she realized, but Dominique insisted I had to leave immediately, and all I got was an airplane ticket, a booking on the Lady Gwendoline, and a "dossier" compiled by the Research Department that was little more than the printout of an internet search of the three words 'Blissful,' 'Beach,' and 'Spa.'  Obviously, this is a colossal mistake!  A real snafu!

And then, Griselda leaned close, clutched Jodi's right breast and gave it a gentle squeeze!  (!!!)  She then leaned even closer and kissed Jodi's forehead.  "I strongly suggest you remain on the bed, as falling on the floor would hardly be a pleasant experience, and please control your struggles and keep them to a minimum.  Reminding yourself of your total helplessness now and then is to be expected, of course, but we don't want to mark your pretty skin with excessive rope marks, now do we?  In any case, our bungalows are as inescapable as my bondage, so leaving the bed and hopping around will do you no good."  She kissed Jodi's forehead, again.  "I'll see you in the morning, Ms. Joyuex.  You're going to have a fun week."

And with that ominous assertion (and the preliminary two kisses and boob-squeeze) Griselda made her exit, taking Jodi's suitcase and laptop-case with her.  The sliding glass door clicked ominously behind her!  Obviously, Jodi's luxurious bungalow was now a luxurious jail cell!

Eyes wide with outrage (and her right boob still recovering from its encounter with Griselda's hand), Jodi watched as her Personal Concierge and kidnapper padded down the path and disappeared into the spa's lush landscaping.  At the moment, there didn't seem to be anybody else wandering around, not near Jodi's "inescapable" bungalow, anyway.

'Fun?'  Enough was enough!  "MRRRRRFH!" Jodi screamed through her gag... then began squirming, wiggling, bucking, rolling, kicking, and thrashing... followed by more squirming!  She was way too tied up to flail.  Anyway, her vigorous efforts got her nowhere in terms of escaping from the tight embrace of the redundant yards of Griselda's thin white cords.  Also, she remembered her beautiful kidnapper's advice and decided marking her body with angry red marks was, indeed, undesirable.  Her pussy agreed as her pathetic struggles had resulted in more sliding and pinching, which wasn't good by anybody's definition.

However, nothing prevented the brave, naked, bound, and gagged reporter from investigating her bonds using less energetic means.  Having little else to do at the moment, Jodi commenced a slow, careful, methodical exploration of the cords in the immediately vicinity of her wrists and hands.  Unfortunately, having only her cord-bound fingers and thumbs to work with... it didn't look promising.

Jodi McJoy's latest investigation was not off to the start she'd expected when she stepped down the gangway of the Lady Gwendoline and onto the dock of Blissful Beach Spa.