From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van © 2023
		Chapter 2

This was not Jodi McJoy's first bondage-rodeo.  Everybody knows the process of being an investigative reporter par excellance absolutely requires an intrepid journalist like Jodi to stick her cute little button nose in places it isn't welcome, and for Jodi―on three separate occasions―this had resulted in what might be called "Close Encounters of the Restrained Kind."  But only three.

Jodi made a habit of trying her best to restrict her snooping to people who were not particularly dangerous and/or likely to cause her physical harm, and this had worked out well for her (for the most part).  Also, when involvement with criminals or other violent ne'er-do-wells was simply unavoidable, Jodi limited her snooping to the internet and recruited law enforcement backup when the investigation entered the endgame.  This drastically reduced the odds she might find herself in the hospital, a shallow grave, "sleeping with the fishes," or otherwise unavailable for future assignments.  (And yes, there are living, breathing cops who don't throw Jodi out of their office on sight.  Some of them even return her phone calls, e-mails, and texts.)  Anyway...

Unfortunate Incident #1:  Jodi had confronted an embezzler who (for some reason) didn't want to go to jail, he got the drop on her, and needing time to close out his bank accounts and disappear, hogtied her with telephone cords and network cables, stuffed a white pocket handkerchief in her indignant mouth, used Jodi's own narrowly folded headscarf as a cleave-gag to keep it there, then locked her away in the back of a dusty storeroom, behind a stack of copier supplies.  Fortunately for Jodi (but unfortunately for the embezzler) she was only in there for about three hours before a secretary looking for a box of paper unlocked the door, heard Jodi doing what the secretary took to be her Rabid Rat imitation, screamed, and called the cops... who eventually showed up and set her free.  Anyway, justice prevailed and they caught the perpetrator before he could skip town.  (Fashion report: Jodi had been wearing a pair of high-heel-pumps, pantyhose, her usual underwear, and an above-the-knees, short-sleeve, button-front, wrap-dress in a very pretty white-daisies-on-a-light-sage-background pattern.  The dress had needed careful laundering, but thankfully wasn't ruined; however, the lime-green headscarf was more-or-less a total loss.)

Unfortunate Incident #2:  Jodi busted a ring of dishonest internet scammers (as opposed to honest internet scammers) who were hawking a line of "Miracle Plant-Based Nutritional Supplements" that were really expired and relabeled vitamin capsules; however, she was caught in the act of rummaging through their business records and wound up bound to a depressingly sturdy office chair with her arms duct-taped to the armrests (from wrists to elbows), her splayed legs taped to the front chair-legs (from ankles to just below her knees), and with a pair of tight, horizontal, multilayered bands of tape passing above and below her breasts and pinning her against the chair-back.  Also, her complaints, protests, and warnings of dire consequences were contained and muffled by a wadded bandana and no fewer that five generous strips of the sticky silver tape.  As it had been an episode of late-night skulking, she'd been dressed in sneakers, socks, the usual underwear, denim jeans, and a dark-indigo sweater over a white blouse with a lace-trimmed Peter Pan collar.  This time the evildoers made good their escapes and Jodi spent way-too-many hours in that chair before she was rescued by a surprised but gallant and helpful bottled water delivery-person.  However, not to worry.  Thanks to the info she'd already gathered, the perps were caught a month later in the act of setting up their next shady cyber-enterprise.

Unfortunate Incident #3:  This time the setting was more formal.  Jodi was investigating a crooked gallery owner who was allegedly passing off forgeries on her more gullible patrons.  She'd taken advantage of a gallery reception to poke around in the back rooms, got caught―Dammit!―then spent a good chunk of the rest of the evening tied up and gagged with an actual ball-gag!  (Spherical red-rubber mouth-plug, black leather strap, shiny steel hardware.  The real thing.)  It had been hanging in an otherwise empty birdcage as part of an alleged Art Installation.  As for Jodi's bondage, she's been backed up against a tall, airy-but-substantial, truly ugly abstract marble sculpture, and secured in place with a plethora of black plastic cable-ties.  Yes, a plethora!  And oh-by-the-way, Jodi had dipped into her savings and purchased a strapless, floor-length red gown for the occasion and was also wearing her best pair of open-toed, strappy, high-heel sandal-pumps.  Her hair was up and attractively coifed and her features cosmetically enhanced by her girlfriend and next door neighbor, Bella Mancuso.  Jodi made for quite the swanky prisoner.  The perps slipped out the back... Jodi struggled... and then, after about an hour, the storeroom door opened and the guests (all of whom were also dressed to the nines) started wandering in.  Jodi was an instant hit.  They milled around, sipped Chardonnay, and discussed the Artistic Significance of Jodi's restrained condition for the better part of an hour.  Apparently, Jodi was a "Found Installation."  She struggled, mewled outraged complaints, drooled down her cleavage, and stared daggers at her appreciative audience... until it finally dawned on one of the possibly tipsy idiots that she didn't want to be Art anymore and they let her go.  To add insult to injury, two days later, when Jodi brought the gown back to the boutique where she'd bought it, they refused to give her a refund!  If memory served, it was still in the back of her closet.

And that was it... until now.  Obviously, Jodi's current situation was Unfortunate Incident #4, was already a doozy, and was showing every sign of becoming a compound doozy.

To summarize, Jodi was naked, elaborately bound from her bare shoulders to her big toes with a plethora―Yes, another plethora!―of thin, white, braided-nylon paracord, gagged with what she was increasingly convinced was a washcloth (of unknown color) rolled around a plastic cable-tie (also of unknown color).  Her hair was in a tight single braid and trailing behind her back... when it wasn't flopping around whenever she decided to squirm and struggle atop the no-longer-quite-so-neatly-made bed of her luxurious Blissful Beach Spa bungalow-prison.

Jodi gave up her methodical attempt to free herself after about an hour.  None of her bonds had shown any sign of developing slack, shifting around in a helpful manner, or doing anything else to aid her cause.  (Also, the crotch-cords continued sliding through and/or pinching her pussy whenever she struggled in certain ways, but that was hardly in aid of anything.)  Obviously, Jodi's restrained condition was hopeless.

As time crawled by... Jodi periodically squirmed and rolled on the bed, but now her cord-restrained exertions were conventional comfort motions, not escape attempts.

The curious thing was, Jodi had to admit that she was―and continued to be―relatively "comfortable."  Her bonds were plentiful, elaborate, well-cinched, and uniformly tight, but they weren't too tight.  She felt no tingling or numbness and hadn't experienced any muscle cramps (so far).  The matrix of white cords might be a custom-fitted near-cocoon... but it wasn't torture.  She grudgingly decided Griselda (the creator of the cocoon) really was a talented and well-trained rigger (and Jodi had finally convinced herself that a person who did restrictive things with rope or cord was, indeed, a "rigger").

So... as the sun set and the day of her arrival turned into the night of her arrival... Jodi contemplated her assignment.  She'd come to Blissful Beach Spa to ferret out the supposedly "hinky" things that were supposedly happening, possibly with celebrity involvement.  Well... so far her stay had been definitely hinky... and possibly kinky.  Jodi tugged on her bound wrists, hands, fingers, and thumbs―the cords passed on her actions to the web of crotch-cords―and the cords, in turn, dutifully passed them on to her pussy.  No, definitely kinky, she decided.  Hinky and kinky!

Griselda's cords had given Jodi time to think, and it had occurred to her that her current bound and gagged condition was different from her previous restrained journalistic misadventures.  Not only did the current Unfortunate Incident take helplessness to a whole new level, but her previous three episodes had happened in order to give the wrongdoers time to make their escapes.  The bad guys wanted to avoid the consequences of their nefarious deeds, and nothing more.  None of it had been personal.

Blissful Beach Spa was different.  Jodi hadn't even had time to start finding any wrong-doing.  The current investigation hadn't even gotten off the ground, and unless there was a mass evacuation of Griselda Bruno and the rest of the spa's staff in progress somewhere beyond her bungalow-prison, the only one at the spa with escape on their mind was Jodi McJoy... as far as she knew.  In any case, it seemed highly unlikely that Jodi was bound, gagged, and safely stashed away in her luxurious and tastefully decorated cell so somebody could make a break for it.

So...  it was time to fish or cut bait, double down, and get on with the program!

Unfortunately, Jodi's lack of clothes, Griselda's cords, and the alleged escape-proof nature of her accommodations were totally stifling her usual game plan.  At least for tonight, there would be no sneaking into the rest of the spa and doing any serious snooping.  That was a non-starter.  Also, the rolled-washcloth-bit-gag crammed in her mouth was preventing her from asking penetrating questions, that and the total absence of anybody to answer her hypothetical questions, penetrating or otherwise.

All of that said, Jodi McJoy was a professional!  A naked, elaborately tied up, effectively gagged, and locked in a luxurious cell professional?  Bah!  Trivial details like that weren't going to stop Jodi McJoy from getting her story!  Eventually.  Somehow.

Jodi decided to bide her time and wait for an actual opportunity to get the proverbial ball rolling.  (Conveniently, that was her only real option.)  Jodi's new cunning plan was to wait 'til morning, when Griselda (or somebody else) would inevitably show up, remove her gag, and untie her; and when that happened, Jodi wouldn't freak out, scream, flail around, and/or attempt to give Griselda-the-gorgeous-amazon (or other rescuer) the beat-down she (or they) so richly deserved.  Granted, Jodi McJoy―intrepid but petite investigator reporter―might be at a distinct physical disadvantage, but she could still seize intellectual control of the situation and get on with the journalistic program!  Escaping from her current bondage was all well and good, but Jodi still had get her story!

(Besides, she could always make some sort of pathetic and/or empty gesture once The Truth was revealed.)

Meanwhile, the sun was slowly setting and the world beyond Jodi's bungalow-prison growing steadily darker.  Eventually... tasteful and subdued but adequate landscape and pathway lighting winked on... but there was nothing much to illuminate.  No guests or staff―minimally clothed or naked, bound or unbound―were strolling past Jodi's window-walls.  The expansive glass revealed nothing more than sandy pathways and luxuriant but expertly trimmed green foliage.

In other breaking news... Jodi was still naked, tied up, and gagged.

Having steeled herself for the upcoming battle of wits in the morning (and having nothing better to do)... Jodi drifted off to sleep.

Jodi was a morning person.  Usually, when the sun peeked above the horizon and the songbirds began their melodious chorus (and would not shut up) Jodi opened her green eyes, yawned, smiled, slid from between the sheets, climbed gracefully albeit a little stiffly to her bare feet, stretched, padded to the bathroom to urgently conduct her morning business... then went in search of coffee.

Not today.

Jodi came awake to find someone sitting on the bed and untying the aforementioned plethora of white paracords binding her naked body.  Not particularly to her surprise, her rescuer was her Personal Concierge, none other than Griselda Bruno (who had also been her captor); however, the amazonian brunette had changed her attire.  In place of yesterday's skimpy, black, one-piece swimsuit comprised of spaghetti straps and a sparse network of narrow, heroically stretched and strategically arranged panels, Griselda was wearing (just barely) an even skimpier string bikini in a pretty shade of violet-blue that complemented the antique-gold color of the Blissful Beach Spa name-tag precariously pinned to the top of her left bra-cup.

Reflexively (and briefly), Jodi wiggled and squirmed on the bed as her bonds melted away―then remembered that she'd decided to "cooperate," go with the flow, and let with whatever was going to happen happen in order to lull Griselda into complacency in order to further (meaning begin) her journalistic investigations.   That didn't mean she couldn't ask questions, of course.  "Mrrrmpfh?" she inquired sagely.  Griselda's smile never wavered... and Jodi's question went unanswered.

In a surprisingly short time the last of Jodi's cords were untied, unwrapped from around her naked body and limbs, and had joined the substantial pile of loose paracord already cluttering the bed.  Now that it was feasible, Jodi sat up and considered trying for a stretch; but before she could do more than think about it, Griselda grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, reached under her braid, and did something to the gag-strap at the nape of her neck.  There was a quiet snap, the strap loosened, Griselda gently eased the terrycloth bit from Jodi's mouth, and the horrid thing was gone.

Jodi swallowed, licked her lips, and glanced down at her former gag.  The now saliva-dampened terrycloth portion of the bit-gag was white, and the strap was, indeed, a plastic cable-tie.  It was translucent/off-white in color with a rather unusual friction-lock with a tab that apparently made it reusable, but it was definitely a cable-tie.  Anyway, Jodi was now nude and her skin covered with yet another plethora, this time of pink indentations, the fossil record of Griselda's rigging pattern.  The still naked but no longer bound or gagged former captive scrambled off the bed and turned to face Griselda, who was still smiling and comfortably sitting on the rumpled bedspread and pile of loose white paracord with her gorgeous, richly tanned, muscular legs gracefully tucked to one side.

"Ow," Jodi remarked as she gazed at her rescuer/captor, blinked her wide green eyes, gingerly rubbing her wrists, and pouted.  Apparently, even Griselda's impressive rigging skills weren't up to the task of binding and gagging a petite cutie like Jodi and leaving her to roll around on a bed all night without leaving behind at least a few aches and pains.

"Very cute," Griselda sighed, still smiling.  "Good morning, Jacki.  I suggest you scamper into the bathroom, avail yourself of the facilities, then take a nice, hot, invigorating shower.  I'll be waiting here to escort you to breakfast."

Jodi's empty stomach growled.  "Uh..." she said profoundly.  "Okay."  She did, indeed, scamper (a little awkwardly)―Ow!―into the bathroom.  She then gulped a drink of water, relieved herself, turned on the shower (this time setting the digital control on hot), waited for the water to come up to temperature... then stepped under the stream.  She managed not to squeal, but it was a near thing.

As it turned out, Griselda's suggestion (order) that she take a hot shower had been a really good idea... even if it had come from a kidnapping amazon with grabby hands.  Jodi let the near-scalding water pound her body for waaaaay longer than a watching conservationist would have approved.

She would also have unraveled her braid and added shampoo and conditioning to her ablution agenda, but Griselda had wrapped the end of the braid with black braided nylon cord even thinner than 550-paracord in what amounted to a tight, elaborately woven sleeve, and tied it off with an exceeding complicated, decorative, and ultra-tight knot Jodi couldn't even begin to untie―and there was nothing in the bathroom even remotely sharp enough to, uh, cut the cord.

This was terrible!  If Jodi's hair was allowed to air-dry while still tightly braided, whenever it finally was unbraided she was absolutely positive her hair would instantly become a veritable cloud of tight ginger curls!  Jodi would look like Little Orphan Annie!  Like Princess Merida from Disney's Brave!  Like Nicole Kidman as an Aussie teenager before Hollywood hairdressers got their hands of her!  Jodi's hair was a ticking ginger time bomb!

Finally, Jodi turned off the shower and toweled herself dry.  The good news was the fossil record of her night in bondage was already starting to fade, and that included the residual gag-marks around her still pouting mouth.  She gazed at herself in the mirror above the washbasin, heaved a sigh, then padded back into the bedroom proper.  Jodi did not scamper.  She had her pride.

True to her word, the bikini-clad Griselda was, indeed, waiting.  She was also smiling and standing beside the bed.  The former tangle of white paracord had all been coiled into neat bundles with the exception of a single loose, relatively short coil in her right hand.

Jodi stared at the thin white cord with understandable apprehension.  "What'cha gonna do with that?" she demanded.

"I told you," Griselda purred as she padded forward, turned Jodi 180°, crossed the frowning ginger's hands behind her back, and started binding her wrists.  "I'm escorting you to breakfast.  Aren't you hungry?  At this point in the program most guests are hungry."

Jodi's stomach grumbled.  She was, indeed hungry; however...  "Breakfast sounds fine," she conceded (whined), "but why do I have to be tied up?"

"Standard Blissful Beach procedure," Grislda explained (if you could call that an explanation).  She finished binding Jodi's wrists, reached for another coil of cord (this one more generous than the first), unraveled it and found the center, then looped it around Jodi's body, twice, pinning her arms against her torso just above her elbows.  She then cinched the bindings between Jodi's arms and torso on both sides and between her elbows.  With her wrists crossed Jodi's elbows couldn't be pulled together all that closely, but they were close enough to roll back her shoulders (a little) and cause her naked boobs to be a little perkier than normal (a little).  Jodi's nipples were unhappy and threatened to tingle and poke in protest.

As Griselda's latest rigging effort progressed, Jodi was seriously reconsidering her strategy of allowing whatever was going to happen to happen, but unfortunately it was already too late for meaningful interventions, revisions, and/or resistance.  Kicking Griselda in her shins or even between her muscular thighs just might be doable, but where would that get her?

And then, her immediate task apparently complete, Griselda gently grabbed Jodi's arms from behind, leaned close, and quietly spoke into her right ear in a low (sexy) voice.  "Why such a pickle-face, Jacki?  Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

"No, I'm not," Jodi groused, peevishly twisting her bound wrists and upper body.

"Give it time," Griselda purred as she took hold of Jodi's braid at the level of her shoulders, in a businesslike but arguably gentle manner, and led her guest/customer/prisoner from the bungalow.

This better be a really good breakfast, Jodi silently fumed, otherwise I'm lodging a formal complaint with the management and naming Griselda personally!  At least I'm not gagged... and she's not jerking on my braid... yet.

It was indeed morning, the sun was up, and although the humidity was hovering somewhere near 100%, it wasn't yet what Jodi could call hot.  That said, it wasn't chilly either.  She was sure hot was on the way.  The sky was a brilliant cerulean blue, the salt tang of the Pacific was wafting on the gentle breeze, seagulls were squawking their usual raucous "songs," the palm fronds were swaying, and the vibrant green shrubs and flowering bushes were shining in the sun.

It was Hawaii.

Jodi had peeks at what she took to be surrounding bungalows or outbuildings through the aforementioned vibrant shrubbery as Griselda led her down a series of pathways, but Jodi couldn't see any details, not much more than the spa's peculiar/decorative green roof tiles.  And then, they began passing what appeared to be small alcoves or outdoor rooms open to the sky and tucked away in the landscaping.  Jodi couldn't see much more as the paths underfoot were constantly twisting and turning and her guide refused to slow down.  She began to suspect that both Griselda's relentless pace and the labyrinthine nature of the layout were deliberate strategies to provide privacy―and the layout was probably why she hadn't seen anybody strolling past her bungalow's glass-walls yesterday... either that or there hadn't actually been anybody strolling past her bungalow's glass-walls yesterday.

Anyway, regarding the passing roofless outdoor rooms, Jodi got glimpses of teak chairs and tables and possibly other furnishings, and some of them were occupied!  But again, it was just impressions and nothing solid.  She got more glimpses―outdoor furniture and naked and/or swimsuit-clad women!―but Griselda wasn't letting her stop and gawk.  Professionally, it was frustrating.

Also, at most of the junctions in the network of paths Jodi belatedly realized there were guideposts in the form of seven or eight foot tall vertical, rounded posts of teak or some other tropical hardwood, each with an elaborate tiki figure carved at its apex, and just below were narrow horizontal wooden slats carved and painted with blossoms of different bright colors and vertical bands of multicolored stripes pointing down the different paths.  There was no text―carved, painted, or otherwise―but obviously the posts were signposts.  "This way to Red Hibiscus Yellow, Green, and Blue."  "This way to White Plumeria Orange, Red, and Purple."  Etc.  Also obviously, Griselda was fluent in the code and/or had memorized the maze.

Jodi's naked and bound breakfast quest continued and she was beginning to suspect her designated dining venue was on the far side of the spa.  Her stomach was losing patience.

And then, they turned a corner and Jodi finally got a good look at somebody who wasn't Griselda Bruno!

Ahead and down their chosen path (meaning Griselda's chosen path) was another junction and tiki-signpost, and backed against that post was a young woman, possibly a teenager, and she was naked and bound to the post with multi-colored rope from her ankles to her shoulders!  As they came closer Jodi could see that her fellow prisoner was, uh, ethnic, meaning multi-ethnic.  Her best guess was the post-bound captive was Polynesian, Filipino, Latin, Mediterranean, or all of the above.  In any case, she was slender, very curvaceous, and in exquisite physical condition, her richly tanned and/or naturally brown skin was smooth, firm, and flawless (where it wasn't dimpled by the tight ropes).  Her hair was long, straight, and as gleaming black as a raven's wing.  Her eyes were brown and slightly almond shaped, and her features even and probably gorgeous, although Jodi couldn't be absolutely sure as the prisoner's entire lower face was covered by a tight over-the-mouth (OTM) gag from just under her cute little nose to her chin.  Creases in the colorful Aloha-print cloth suggested there was probably an underlying layer of some sort, possibly a cleave-gag.  Anyway, she was almost certainly quite beautiful in every way, and she reminded Jodi of a young Jessica Alba... but then, present day Jessica Alba reminded Jodi of a young Jessica Alba, so... whatever.  In any case, Jodi had the definite impression the post-bound captive was younger than herself, meaning in her early to mid twenties, with late teens as a plausible outlier.

As for the woman (or girl's) bondage, the ropes were quarter-inch braided nylon in a rainbow pattern that complemented her gag-cloth.  Her full-body-bondage wasn't as elaborate as last night's Jodi-bondage, but it was rope instead of cord, and it was tight and quite obviously just as inescapable.  Jodi wasn't gagged, so this was her first opportunity since arriving at Blissful Beach to conduct a proper interview  (other that with Griselda), but unfortunately her potential interviewee was gagged.  Also, Griselda wasn't even slowing down, much less stopping.  The prisoners―un-gagged and gagged, ginger and raven-haired―locked green and gorgeous-brown eyes (respectively) as Jodi and her handler approached... and then padded past.  Jodi would have liked to look back over her shoulder as they continued down the path, but Griselda was still using her braid as a handle and that complicated the issue.

She has nice breasts, Jodi thought, meaning the pretty brown post-bound damsel... and not that Jodi was any more obsessed with with female boobs that she was with female butts, of course, but whoever the damsel in question might be, she really did have nice boobs... not huge by any stretch, but perfect in shape... and the rest of her was equally perfect.  Flat tummy (well-sculpted).  Shapely thighs.  Pretty (strong but dainty) feet.  And those eyes...

Jodi swiveled her head to Griselda (as best she could).  "Uh, who was that?  And why was she―"

"None of that," Griselda interrupted, placing the index finger of her free hand against her smiling lips.  "Guest privacy.  You don't want me gossiping about Jacki Joyeux, do you?"

Jodi blinked and heaved a sigh.  "No."  Actually, since there was no "Jacki Joyeux" she didn't really care, but Jodi was undercover and had to maintain appearances.  That was all well and good, but Jodi was frustrated... as well as naked and tied up.  I'm not making any damn progress, she silently huffed, except maybe towards breakfast... unless Gridelda's lost... which seems unlikely.  Anyway, the call of journalism was going unanswered!

And then―finally―it happened (meaning breakfast, not journalism).  They made an abrupt turn, entered one of the outdoor rooms, and centered in the rectangular space defined by flowering shrubs Jodi beheld four teak chairs surrounding a teak table, and on the table was a thermal carafe, two mugs, a small ceramic pitcher (presumably full of milk or half-and-half), a sugar bowl, a glass pitcher beaded with moisture and full of some sort of pink juice, a pair of small glass tumblers, and a large covered platter.  Jodi's stomach decided all of this looked very promising.  ("Growl.")

Griselda released Jodi's braid and pulled back one of the chairs... Jodi helpfully (even eagerly) planted her naked butt on the chair's comfy cushion... Griselda settled into a neighboring chair... then Jodi's long awaited breakfast happened.  The carafe was full of piping hot coffee, the juice was some sort of tropical fruit blend (and was delicious!), and the platter held an array of sliced fruit, different mini-pastries, tiny quiches, crispy bacon strips, little sausages, some sort of scrambled egg mixture in crispy little hash brown potato cups, and mini-bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon topped with capers.  It was all very yummy, even the admittedly oily but still tasty sardine-sized kippers, the likes of which Jodi usually only indulged in when a story took her to Britain.
 
Griselda was Mother.  That is, she did all the pouring and serving and hand-feeding.  This was necessary, of course, as Jodi was still tied up.  Griselda also did half the eating.  It would seem this was her breakfast as well as Jodi's.  Not to worry, there was plenty of food.  Jodi ate (meaning was fed) until she was satiated but in no way stuffed (which was just fine as far as Jodi and her stomach were concerned) and as if by design, that happened just as Griselda popped the last mini-slice of papaya into her guest's mouth.

Credit where credit was due.  "That was delicious," Jodi conceded.  The Staff Nutritionists and/or Chef/Kitchen-Staff had gauged the appropriate volume of the repast with precision.

"Thank you, Jacki," Griselda purred as she held Jodi's mug to her charge's no longer pouting lips for a sip of coffee.  "Now... would you like to go for a nice refreshing swim... or enjoy a vigorous workout in our outdoor gym?"

Jodi blinked uncertainly.

"And I mean after you have a chance to start digesting your breakfast, of course," Griselda added.

Jodi blinked again.  "Huh?"  (Would she be untied for the suggested swim or workout?  It would probably be counterproductive to ask.)  "Will the swim be in the ocean?"

"Of course," Griselda beamed.

"So we're talking the beach."

"Yes," Griselda chuckled.

Jodi managed not to blink.  If it was the beach and therefore the vast Pacific and she was untied, perhaps she could swim away underwater, sneak up the beach while Griselda was looking for her, and finally do a little snooping.  It seemed possible.  Jodi was a good swimmer.  In fact, she had a reputation as something of a ginger river otter, or maybe a peachy-pink trout.  "Okay," she nodded, "a swim."

"But first," Griselda continued, still smiling, "I'm going to take you for a nice restrained massage."

Jodi's blinking problem was back, in spades.  "Restrained massage?  No thank you!"

Griselda chuckled.  "Sooo cute!" she sighed in a quiet whisper.  "You need time for your breakfast to settle, and besides, regular restrained massage is an important element of our program," she explained (or threatened, or warned).  "I'm afraid it's mandatory."

"You're afraid?" Jodi muttered under her breath, then favored her grinning "Personal Concierge" with a determined scowl.  "No.  Uh-uh.  No way.  Not gonna happen.  I won't let you!"

"So cute," Griselda quietly reiterated, then climbed to her feet and pulled Jodi from her comfy teak chair.  "You'll love it.  Trust me."

"No, I won't!" Jodi objected, tugging on her crossed and bound wrists and twisting her bound body.  "Don't come near me or I'll―MRRRMF!"  Jodi had no idea where it came from, but Griselda had stuffed a ball-gag into her protesting mouth and was buckling its strap tight against the nape of her neck and under her braid!  "Mrrrpfhhh!"  This did not improve Jodi's mood; however, it seriously limited her ability to threaten her amazonian handler and explain that "restrained massage" (whatever that entailed) was totally out of the question.

Staring emerald daggers at her Personal Concierge and continuing to weakly and impotently fight her bonds, Jodi watched as Griselda slid closed a drawer built into the edge of teak table.  So that's where this thing came from, Jodi realized.  Seriously, who brings a ball-gag to breakfast?  Then, Griselda took a firm/gentle grip on Jodi's braid, as she had before, and dragged (okay, led) her from the breakfast venue and back into the maze of hedge-lined pathways.

The prospect of being subjected to some sort of poking and prodding while naked, bound, gagged, and helpless was insufficient to ruin Jodi's delicious breakfast, but it wasn't from want of trying.  Also, she realized she was actually looking forward to the promised dip in the ocean afterwards (and her first potential opportunity to temporarily escape and do a little unsupervised snooping) but the looming roped rub-down (if that was what it would be) was doing its best to ruin that as well.

Jodi kicked herself for not having memorized the pathways as she was being led to breakfast, but she'd been... preoccupied.  She thought Griselda was retracing their steps, maybe, and then that was confirmed when they turned a leafy corner and padded past the young, naked, bound, and gagged Jessica-Alba-wannabe still roped to the same tiki-topped signpost.  Once again Jodi and the gorgeous, post-bound captive locked eyes as they approached... passed... then departed.  She's beautiful, Jodi mused.  If she isn't a celebrity... she ought to be.  They turned another corner... and that was that.

The journey continued... then Griselda led her reluctant guest into another shrubbery-defined open-air venue.  They paused, which allowed Jodi to get a good look at what was waiting within, and her green eyes popped wide.  "Mrrrrrf!"

"Settle down, Jacki," Griselda whispered in Jodi's ear.  "You'll love it."