From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van © 2023
		Chapter 5

So... Jodi was lying on her back and bound to the bungalow's king-size bed by hefty, royal-blue, nylon straps and soft, locking (and locked) nylon wrist and ankle cuffs (also royal-blue) in what was technically a four-point spread.  A strap linked each cuff to its corresponding corner of the platform-style bed-frame; however, her movements were virtually unimpeded.  It was possible for her to squirm, roll around, and generally make her way to the very edge of the mattress before the straps on the opposite side snapped taut and prevented further "progress."  So, Jodi was bound, but if she wanted to she could pretend she wasn't... or she could try, anyway.

Jodi's only logical course of "action" was to go to sleep... so she did.

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Granted, there was danger that if Jodi flailed around in her sleep she might entangle herself in the straps, and at one point that exact thing happened!  Jodi awoke up to find the right wrist strap wrapped around her upper body and threatening to tighten and squeeze her right arm against her side!  All she had to do, of course, was roll onto her back and execute a little strategic squirming and wiggling to resolve the situation, so she did.  It hadn't been a particularly challenging exercise, but it had been necessary... also irritating.

Why am I strapped to the bed in the first place? Jodi silently fumed.  The only door in and out of the bungalow was locked, so her "bondage" was unnecessary and largely symbolic.  Was Grizzy just being a bitch?  Jodi decided that while that was a reasonable explanation, her handler was probably just following "Blissful Beach Standard Procedure."  Naive guests stupid enough to book themselves into Blissful Beach on the "Economy-B" package―like "Jacki Joyeux"―got tied up every night, no exceptions!

When the Prisoner-of-the-Bed had first drifted off to sleep the rain was still drumming on the bungalow roof, but now, at the time of the Great Disentanglement Incident, the arguably soothing noise had ceased... not that it mattered.  Jodi heaved a sigh, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

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Jodi jerked awake to find Grizzy leaning over the bed and fussing with her left ankle cuff.  Also, the sun was up, or was at least rising.  It was morning.  Somehow, her Personal Concierge had crept into the bungalow without waking her up (which wasn't at all creepy).  It would seem Jodi's slumbering mind had been unconcerned about the intrusion, despite the continuing vulnerability of her naked captivity.  Also, even though Jodi was still only semi-awake, she noted that her "rescuer" was wearing (just barely) another variant of the Blissful Beach Staff Uniform: a skimpy string-bikini, and this one was in a subdued shade of turquoise... or maybe jade.  Also, another laden meal tray was resting on the café/dining table across the room.

"Good morning, Jacki," Grizzy purred as she smiled, worked her way around the bed, and released all four of Jodi's cuffs.

"Mornin'," Jodi mumbled in response.  Just because she was being manhandled by an amazon beauty and held in naked bondage against her will, that was no excuse for being impolite.  She stretched, yawned, then climbed off the bed and stretched again, this time in naked, full-body, back-arching-reach-for-the-ceiling mode.  Jodi noted through the bungalow's three glass walls that the world beyond her luxurious prison was not only illuminated by the rising sun but visibly wet.  Also, it occurred to the yawning former captive that she still had no idea how Grizzy had locked and unlocked her former cuff-bonds.  There was still no key in evidence.  Perhaps in addition to her other talents Grizzy was a sleight-of-hand magician and had already covertly tucked the hypothetical key back under her bikini... not that it mattered.

Also, Jodi noted the turquoise/jade color of her handler's bikini went well very with her smooth, tan, muscular curves this bright, dewy morning.  Pretty, Jodi conceded... resentfully... then frowned and shook her head.  Why am I even thinking about something like that?

"I suggest you take a nice shower," Grizzy suggested (ordered), smiling and gracefully gesturing towards the bathroom alcove.

"Whatever," Jodi huffed as she spun on her bare heels and padded away.  Even though there was no door to close off the "bathroom" area, the geometry of the layout provided some degree of privacy... although at this point Jodi wasn't overly concerned about such things.  Anyway, she ignored whatever Grizzy was doing in the main bungalow and ran through her morning routine, including the suggested (ordered) nice shower.  She then toweled herself dry (including her braided hair, which she was still unable to untie and therefore unravel)... then padded back into the main area.

Jodi's former royal-blue nylon bed restraints had vanished, probably stowed back in their cubbyholes or wherever they'd come from.  Also, the bedspread was taut and smooth... as if a naked, tragically helpless prisoner hadn't spent the last several hours writhing and rolling around in a vain attempt to escape her cruel captivity.  Finally, the table was now set with service for two: tableware, plates, linen napkins, juice glasses, a moisture-beaded carafe of some sort of pinkish beverage, an insulated carafe she hoped was full of hot coffee, porcelain cups and saucers, and the usual condiments.

Jodi padded to the table, sat, and watched with interest as Grizzy lifted the covers from the plates, placed them on the tray on the sideboard, then sat in the second chair.  Waiting on their plates were omelettes garnished with some sort of sauce and diced green onions, crispy hash-brown potatoes, slices of buttered toast that may have been some sort of multigrain and/or artisan bread, and to the side were small bowls full of chunks of fresh guava, papaya, and mango.  It all looked quite delicious... and was.  The naked, petite ginger and bikini-clad, amazon brunette ate in companionable silence.  The omelettes turned out to be seafood, shrimp and crab, the sauce was probably of the Mornay variety, and there was a delicious guava jelly to spread on the toast!  Yum!

Finally, their plates empty, Grizzy and Jodi sat back, sipped their coffee, and watched the landscape dry.  What Jodi could see of the sky appeared to be blue... but now and then a wisp of pale cloud would pass overhead and shade the immediate area... then the sun would return and the countless water droplets beading the foliage would flash and glisten.  It was pretty.

Jodi knew she should be radiating her by-this-time "normal" and probably expected grumpy and outraged prisoner persona... but it was such a nice morning, the breakfast really had been delicious, and at least for the moment Grizzy wasn't doing anything to ruin the convivial mood (other than being her smiling, beautiful, strong, competent, confident, and ominously sinister self).  Jodi didn't exactly smile, but she didn't scowl either.

Finally... after several pleasant minutes... the idyllic mood was broken.  That is, Grizzy took a final sip of coffee, stood and padded to a nearby sideboard, pulled open a drawer, and produced a coil of thin, white, nylon-sheathed 550-paracord!  Jodi blinked and watched her handler prepare it for use.  She noted this particular cord was relatively short in length.

"Grizzy!" Jodi whined, but offered no resistance as Grizzy "helped" her out of her chair, spun her around, and lashed her crossed wrists behind her back!  Understandably, the pouting redhead's negative attitude was no longer on hold.  In fact, once she was bound (and it was too late to do any good), she actively resisted, meaning made Grizzy grab her arm and gently impel her to pad to the still open drawer.  Jodi looked down and beheld several more coils of white coil and her other "old friend," a black silicon rubber ventilated ball-gag.

"I don't care if it is your stupid 'Blissful Beach Standard Procedure,'" Jodi huffed, "this is mean!"

Grizzy ignored Jodi's observation/objection, picked up the ball-gag, shoved it into Jodi's manifestly unhappy mouth, and deftly buckled the strap at the nape of her neck under her dangling braid.

"Mrrrf!" Jodi understandably complained, stamping her right bare foot.

"Indeed," Grizzy agreed.  Then, her smile never wavering, she closed the sideboard drawer and led Jodi from the bungalow and out into the still slightly damp dawn.  Once again, she was padding at her guest's side with a firm but gentle hold on the base of Jodi's tight ginger braid.

Intermittent white clouds continued scudding overhead, but they were doing little to obscure the cerulean sky beyond.  The sun was now well above the horizon.

There destination was what was probably the same outdoor room where Jodi had received her first "Restrained Massage."  The sturdy massage table with its cuffs and dangling straps was ready and waiting, as were Angel and Abuya.  The bikini-clad Latina and African beauties were smiling, of course, and the glass vessel of insidious but fragrant massage oil was already heating over a candle on the teak sideboard.

"Good Morning, Ms. Joyuex," Angel and Abuya greeted their guest as they padded forward.

"Mrrrmpfhmrf!" Jodi replied.  It was a tossup whether she was returning the greeting or making some sort of rude and/or obscene remark.

Jodi Valiantly Resisted―or at least continued scowling and making her new handlers "drag" her to the table―but it happened anyway.  Then, Angel and Abuya untied her wrists, lifted her onto the table, flipped her onto her stomach, and buckled the padded leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

"Mrrrm!" Jodi objected as she squirmed, tugged on her bonds, and made it clear she did not want a replay of yesterday's prolonged and oily (but unarguably pleasurable) massage.

Again, it happened anyway!  Front and back!  It was a complete rerun of yesterday!  Including the pleasure! 

Finally, once again, Jodi was reduced to a totally relaxed and limp wet noodle... proverbially, not literally.  Also just like yesterday, when the probing, poking, prodding, pressing, and oily Horrific Ordeal was finally over... Jodi found herself on her back, still spreadeagled by the wrist and ankle cuffs, the table's straps buckled across her chest, tummy, and thighs, and her glistening body covered by a white sheet pulled up to her chin... and although she'd just had a good night's sleep, Jodi found she was very sleepy and was struggling to stay awake.  It occurred to her that maybe the massage oil was laced with some sort of insidious drug... but her masseuses hadn't worn gloves, either today or yesterday... so why weren't they sleepy?  She closed her eyes, carefully considered the sleepiness issue, and decided it was because Angel and Abuya's hands were just that good!

Anyway... eventually... (and also like yesterday)... Jodi failed miserably to stay awake... and drifted away.

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As the old saying goes: all post-traumatic recuperation periods come to an end... and so does basking in the afterglow of a really good Restrained Massage.

"Mrrrf?"

Jodi snapped awake to find Angel and Abuya had whisked away her cover sheet and were unbuckling and releasing her strap and cuff bonds.  Soon, the naked ginger was glistening with residual massage oil and was still ball-gagged but otherwise unrestrained―but not for long!  Before Jodi could leap off the table, scamper away into the green maze, unbuckle and toss away her gag, and finally begin her journalistic investigations (either that or find a nice place to curl up and continue her nap) Grizzy grabbed her, flipped her onto her stomach―"Mrrrf!"―and lashed her crossed wrists behind her back with the white paracord!

It was both infuriating and humiliating, as usual.  Grizzy could do anything she wanted to her, whenever she wanted to do it, and that included lifting Jodi off the table, planting her bare feet on the sandy floor, grabbing her braid, and leading her away... all of which she did.

"Thank you ladies!" Grizzy called back over her shoulder.

"Mrrrmmm!" Jodi added.  It was unclear whether she was including thanks of her own or unfairly casting aspersions on her smiling masseuses' characters and ancestry.

Angel and Abuya seemed to assume the former.  "Goodbye Jacki!" they called and waved... and then Grizzy and Jodi were across the threshold and into the maze.

This time it was a short trip to their next destination, which was a bungalow-size building that at least from the outside was similar to Jodi's sleeping quarters.  The glass-walled structure was tucked into the hedges and once they entered it became clear it was not a bungalow and had a single purpose.  What could be called either a barber or a medical examination chair stood in the center, surrounded by shelves of various bottled products and stacks of towels, as well as cabinets, many of which had glass fronts.  There was also a deep-sink with a rounded cutout, a hair-drying hood on a metal stand, and off to one side, a small rectangular pool of some sort set in the floor.  A pleasant floral aroma hung in the air, as well as the very slight chemical odor.

It was a hairdressing salon... a sinister hairdressing salon!  Why sinister?  Well...

The pedestal base of the chair was mounted in a track embedded in the floor and was obviously clearly able to move from place to place. Tracks led to the deep sink, the hair-drying hood, and the mysterious pool.  Also, the well-padded chair, while appearing to be quite comfortable, was fully adjustable into almost any position.  It had footrests, armrests, and a headrest―all of which were festooned with a variety of formidable-looking medical-style cuffs and straps!  Once secured in the chair, the salon's hypothetical customer would be totally helpless!

Jodi swallowed nervously.  She had an excellent idea as to the identity of the aforementioned hypothetical customer!

Also, two smiling and nearly naked women were waiting.  Both were bikini-clad, identifying them as Blissful Beach staff.

On the left was a Nordic blonde with blue eyes, symmetrical and stunningly beautiful features, a killer tan, and an athletic and decidedly curvaceous figure.  Her long flaxen hair was pulled back in a ponytail that cascaded down her back.  The name-tag pinned to the left bra-cup of her red bikini read "Aisling Almr."

On the right was an Asian woman with smooth, firm, deeply-tanned or naturally brown skin, and gorgeous features, including an incredible pair of brown, almond-shaped eyes.  She was fit, like Aisling her blonde companion, but was much shorter.  In fact, she was a Jodi-sized pipsqueak.  Her hair was fine, straight, gleaming black, and cut short in a Louise Brooks-style pageboy, with bangs.  Her bikini was peacock-blue and her name-tag read "Citra Suryani."

"My goodness," Citra gushed, "what a cute little redhead!"

"Cute," Aisling agreed, "very cute.  Downright adorable."

Jodi glowered at her... potential hairdressers(?), especially Aisling.  Jodi hated being called "adorable" (even thought she begrudgingly knew she was guilty as charged).

"Is everybody on this staff a comedian?" Grizzy muttered.  Obviously, she knew she was being teased... again.

Jodi stole a glance at her handler's face.  Grizzy was blushing again, just a little.  Go figure.  What exactly did she say to her friends about me? Jodi wondered, other than I'm 'cute'... which is obvious.  Jodi shifted her gaze back to the tall blonde and short Asian and resumed glowering.

Aisling and Citra padded forward and took custody of Jodi-the-adorable-redhead.  Kicking and screaming (or seriously thinking about it)―"Mrrrf!"―Jodi was dragged (led) to The Chair and her wrists untied.  She was then plunked down onto the cushions (which were as comfortable as they looked), and strapped in place!  "Nrrrrm!"  Specifically, she was secured at her wrists, upper-arms, across her chest (above her bare boobs), her waist, thighs, lower-legs, and ankles, as well as with a rather wide padded collar that more-or-less pinned her ball-gagged head against the headrest.  Jodi wriggled, squirmed, fluttered her fingers, wiggled her toes, squirmed some more, then glared at Grizzy... who smiled back.  Infuriating!

Meanwhile, somebody―either Aisling or Citra as both were behind Jodi's back―did something to the chair that folded down the headrest.  The collar was still in place and was still doing an excellent job of immobilizing her gagged-head.  And then... something wonderful (and terrifying) happened!  Jodi heard a quiet click, and fingers quickly and deftly raveled her braid!

This was the moment of truth.  Would her hair explode into a riotous cloud of tight Little-Orphan-Annie/Princess-Merida curls?  And what would her hairdressers do about it?

"Such a pretty color," Aisling's voice purred.

"I like red hair," Citra agreed, "especially copper-ginger... like this."

"How 'bout you, Griselda?" Aisling inquired.  "Do you think ginger hair is... cute?"

Grizzy rolled her eyes, spun on her bare heels, and padded from the salon.  "I'm getting some coffee," she muttered.  "Don't let her escape or I'll personally drag the two of you to the Staff Dungeon for a week of remedial guest handling training."

Jodi blinked in surprise.  This place has a 'Staff Dungeon?'

Meanwhile, Grizzy had made her exit and through the glass Jodi watched as the amazon disappeared into the hedge-lined maze... abandoning Jodi to her sinister hairdressing fate!  "Mrrrk?"

And then, it happened!  Hairdressing!

Jodi's chair vibrated (a little), rolled down one of the tracks, tipped back, and Jodi found the back of her collared neck resting in the rounded cutout in the deep sink.  Water started running, her hair was drenched, Aisling added shampoo, then worked up a lather... which involved the sort of scalp massage Angel and Abuya had been unable to give her because of her former braid... followed by a warm rinse.  Lather-rinse-repeat.  Three times!  Next came some sort of conditioner, which was allowed to remain in Jodi's sopping wet ginger locks for a handful of minutes... followed by a final rinse.

Jodi closed her eyes (putting her glower on hold) as the chair hummed and returned to an upright position.  She could feel her hair being dried with a towel... carefully, gently combed... then divided and pinned in several loose pin-curl type coils.  The chair hummed again and carried her to the dryer hood... and drying happened―gentle drying using warm but not unpleasantly hot air.

While this happened, Aisling and Citra extended the leg supports of the chair, leaving Jodi's knees raised above her waist and her feet also raised but still more-or-less horizontal―and then, Jodi's Horrific Involuntary Pampering Ordeal expanded into an Involuntary Pedicure!  Her toenails were trimmed (a little), and her toe-cuticles poked and prodded using various steel instruments.  No pain was involved, other than an occasional and easily endured twinge.  Anyway, it was obvious the Blissful Beach Involuntary Hairdressing Salon was a full service pampering facility.  Also, if a pedicure was happening, could a manicure be far behind?

Jodi was not held in suspense.  Aisling and Citra stopped messing with her toes, returned her feet and legs to the chair's "normal" restrained upright position, then triggered adjustments in the armrest positions and did, indeed, inflict an Involuntary Restrained Manicure on poor Jodi's fingernails!  This required the deployment of armrest attachments that immobilized her hands palms-down with her fingers splayed, enforced by narrow nylon straps that secured by means of Velcro.

This was neither Jodi's first pedicure nor manicure rodeo, and she noticed that her handlers seemed to be leaving the processes in an incomplete state.  That is, the soft tissue of all four sets of nails (feet and hands) had been teased and, uh, loosened, but not trimmed close in the usual manner.  Finally, small, sopping wet towels were draped over her feet and hands and the digits in question allowed to soak and become waterlogged.

Jodi sat under the dryer hood―as if she had a choice―and watched Aisling and Citra putter around and cleanup after the horrific deeds they'd inflicted upon her so far.  This mostly involved wiping out the wet deep sink with the used towels, tossing them in a hamper, then returning the shampoo and conditioner bottles to the appropriate cabinet.

Finally, Jodi received another surprise, and it was a big one!

Her hairdressing and mani-pedi torturers released her from under the drying hood, then the chair hummed and rolled down one of the tracks until it was at the very edge of the small sunken pool.  Jodi looked down and realized the pool in question was actually an aquarium!  That the heck?  Through the rippling surface Jodi could just make out a few aesthetically pleasing piles of artfully arranged lava rocks and some green aquatic plants, but the area immediately in front of Jodi's throne was clear, meaning it was nothing but a stretch of fine gravel.  Aerating air-stones were bubbling in the far corners, hence the rippling surface.

Aisling and Citra plucked the wet towels from Jodi's bare feet and she could see that the dead skin surrounding her toenails had become pale and puffy, as was to be expected.  And then, the chair hummed again and the leg-supports extended, stretching her feet and her lower legs forward until they were straight and immobile... then tilted forward and slowly plunged her feet under the surface of the pool/aquarium!  The water was cool but not unpleasant.  Jodi raised her chin and turned her head as much as the collar would allow and looked at her handlers―"Mrrrf?"―but Aisling and Citra had padded away to a low cabinet/counter and were messing around with a single-cup coffeemaker.  Meanwhile...

"Mrrr!"  Something―no some-things, plural―were nibbling at Jodi's toes!  Green eyes wide and wiggling the toes in question, Jodi watched in horror as tiny fishes darted around under the burbling water and attacked her feet!  "Nrrrf!" she complained.  It tickled (just a little)!  Mostly, however, the finny assault was simply unexpected.  Being the seasoned investigative reporter that she was―wise in the ways of the world and with her finger always on the pulse of modern culture―Jodi was intellectually aware that trendy spas sometimes used "cleaning fish" to remove the dead skin from their customers' extremities, but this was her first personal experience with a piscine cleanup crew snacking on her toes!  Her soles and heels were also being grazed upon!  She did her best to communicate her extreme distress to Aisling and Citra―"Mrrmpfh!"―but it would seem her handlers were too involved in their coffee break to care.  "Mrrrph!"

After what felt like an eternity of felonious fishy feasting... Aisling and Citra (having finished their no doubt delicious coffee) padded back to the chair and one of them tapped the control panel that by this time Jodi had determined was built into the back of the chair.  Hmmm... The chair tilted back... her legs folded back into the "normal" sitting position, then the armrests extended, taking her fingers and hands with them!  Then, the chair-back tilted forward, causing her to lean forward into a mild crunch―"Nrrrk?"―and as this happened, the entire chair rocked forward and her hands plunged under the surface of the pool!

"Mrrrf!"  This allowed the fishes to go to work on her fingers, of course, which were still splayed, extended, and helpless, trapped by the chairs' finger-spreading manicure armatures!  This wasn't quite as distressing as having her toes and feet nibbled upon, but mainly because this time the piscine assault wasn't unexpected.  Jodi squirmed in her bonds and stared down at the churning water, which was now inches from her gagged face.  Fortunately, her hairdressers had been thoughtful enough to pull her now clean and conditioned hair back and secure it in a loose ponytail, so the ends weren't falling into the aquarium.  Her tightly strapped down body had a few fractions of an inch of freedom of motion, but her fingers remained completely immobilized and easy targets for the darting fish!

Minutes passed... the fish began losing interest in her helpless fingers... then the chair hummed back into its original upright configuration and rolled back to the center of the salon.

Citra dried Jodi's hands with a towel, then her feet, then completing the final details of Jodi's mani-pedi.  That is, she polished the naked, restrained, and ball-gagged ginger's toenails and fingernails, gave them coats of clear lacquer polish, then freed Jodi's fingers and stowed the hand-stretching armatures back wherever they'd come from.  Meanwhile, Aisling had released Jodi's ponytail and had resumed combing and brushing her hair.

The Pampered Prisoner of The Chair watched, resentfully, and as best her collar would allow, as Citra completed her tasks... then stepped from view.  She couldn't see much of anything Aisling was doing, of course, but she could certainly feel it.  Now and then she heard a spritzing noise and surmised the no doubt smiling blonde was periodically and ever-so-lightly spraying her tresses with what she suspected was some sort of... oil?  Whatever it was, it had a pleasant odor... faintly floral... with just a hint of musk.

Finally, Aisling stepped back... then together with her angelically smiling fellow torturer, stepped in front of the chair and held up a large hand mirror.  Jodi could now see her scowling/grimacing ball-gagged reflection and her restored hair.  Her ginger tresses were somewhat curlier than she normally kept them, but the coif was in no way the riot of tight curls she'd feared it might become.  Jodi had arrived at Blissful Beach with semi-straight ginger waves that framed her face, but now the waves were a little further on the scale to totally curly, maybe... 25%?  Possibly even 33%!  She liked it... but wasn't about to let her hairdressers know that.  "Mrrrmpfh!" Jodi complained, her green eyes flashing.

Neither Aisling nor Citra were fooled.

"You're welcome," Aisling purred as Citra padded away and returned the mirror to wherever it had come from.  Then, the smiling blonde stepped behind the chair, gently parted the back of Jodi's rejuvenated tresses, raised the chair's headrest until it nudged the back of her head, and locked it in place.  The chair hummed, again, then lowered the naked ginger into a more reclined and undeniably relaxing position with her arms and hands resting at her sides and her legs slightly splayed.

Aisling and Citra stood on either side, smiling (gloating) down at what they no doubt thought was another satisfied customer.

"Next time we'll shave your legs and armpits and trim your bush," Citra announced.

"Tell Griselda if you want something special," Aisling added, "like a Brazilian... or for us to shave it off completely."

"If you don't like shaving, waxing is also an option," Citra purred.

Jodi blinked and her horrified green eyes darted from smiling face to smiling face.  No!  Nada!  Not gonna happen!  She was mentally referring to the issue of pubic maintenance, of course.  Keeping her ginger crotch-foliage under control was one thing.  There was nothing wrong with the occasional self-inflicted trim and carefully shaving the verge, of course.  Jodi certainly wasn't French, meaning willing to let her curlies grow riotously wild... but she wasn't Brazilian either.

Anyway, while Jodi was contemplating the preferred disposition of her ginger jungle, Aisling and Citra blew her kisses and padded towards the salon door.  Citra turned off the overhead lights as the pair departed, sliding the door closed behind them and padding away down the the same pathway Grizzy had taken.

So... I'm to wait here? Jodi silently (and sarcastically) inquired.  She assumed her hairdressers were on their way to the Staff Lounge for more coffee... and possibly to gossip with the other bikini-clad beauties about how cute and adorable she was.  But they didn't offer me any coffee, Jodi fumed, or any other refreshing beverage!  That's a clear violation of the Hair Salon Code!

So... not being able to think of anything she could do that wouldn't be totally frustrated by her strap and cuff enforced captivity, Jodi closed her eyes... squirmed and tugged on her various bonds to confirm that she was, indeed, 100% helpless... then heaved a gagged sigh.  Did Jodi need another nap?  Certainly not!  That would be ridiculous... ludicrious... but that doesn't mean I can't rest my eyes a little.  After all, the experience of having ravenous aquatic lifeforms nibble on my toes and fingers was traumatic!

Some minutes later... Jodi's eyes popped open and she flinched in her bonds!

Jodi had been, uh, alerted by the sound of the salon's glass door sliding open, forcefully!  (She'd been dozing but not asleep, honest!)  Anyway, standing in the doorway was Carla Tarantola!  Grizzy's petite hottie of a boss was wearing a black, close-fitting, summer-weight pencil-dress with a short skirt and a revealing/plunging neckline "shielded" by a black mesh panel, as opposed to a bikini, one-piece swimsuit, or some other form of the "normal" Blissful Beach Staff Uniform.  Go figure.  She looked just as beautiful and waif-like as yesterday (but not wet, as this time she wasn't emerging from the Pacific).  Also, her feet were bare (and cute).

Oh-by-the-way, Carla did not look happy.  Devilishly attractive?  Yes, but not happy.  Her big brown doe eyes were flashing and her pretty mouth set in a decidedly disapproving frown.

Standing behind Carla were two staff members, and like Carla, neither of them were wearing bikini/swimsuit uniforms either; however, they were in what was clearly a different form of uniform.  Specifically: brown combat boots with nylon mesh panels for ventilation, tropical-weight, jungle-green cargo shorts, tank-tops in an Aloha-print of several different earth-tone colors (making them more-or-less effective jungle camouflage), and dark sunglasses.  Their Blissful Beach name-tags bore the single word "SECURITY."  Also, both Beautiful Goons―Jodi had instantly decided to characterize them as "Beautiful Goons"―were tall, undeniably hot, very fit, and as unsmiling as their little boss.  The one towering behind Carla's left shoulder was a blonde with a beach-bunny tan, and the one behind the tiny boss' right was mixed race (heavy on the African) with dusky skin that was several shades lighter than the very dark complexion of Abuya-the-masseuse.

The trio stomped (or padded, in Carla's case) into the salon and loomed (in the case of the two Beautiful Goons) in front of Jodi and her chair, and continued to stare (see also glare and scowl).

"Mrmf?" Jodi politely inquired, and blinked her green eyes.

"Ms. Joyuex," Carla purred (her attitude still anything but friendly), "I'm afraid there's an... inconsistency in your registration paperwork that requires immediate resolution."  She pointed to Jodi and took a barefoot step back.  "Tape," she commanded.

The Beautiful Goons stepped forward and the blonde reached into one on her cargo pockets and produced an approximately 2½" x 6" strip of off-white tape with a paper backing (more-or-less a giant band-aid)!  She stripped away the paper and held it between her two hands, adhesive side to the front and ready to be applied.  Meanwhile, her dark-skinned colleague had stepped behind Jodi's chair, gathered her now curly ginger hair, and was holding it back and away from her face.

Between the collar, the headrest, and the firm but arguably gentle grip on her hair, Jodi's wide-eyed, confused, and/or alarmed head was now totally immobilized, and she could do nothing to prevent the blonde from pressing the stretched strip home over her already ball-gagged mouth and smoothing it in place, thereby doubling Jodi's gag and sealing her lips!

"Mrrrf!" Jodi complained (at greatly reduced volume) as the Goons started unbuckling the cuffs and straps and freeing her from the chair.  She squirmed, struggled, kicked and flailed as she was lifted to her feet and dragged from the salon with Carla in the lead and a Beautiful Goon on either side, gripping her wrists and arms.  To coin a phrase: resistance was futile.  Grizzy might have been able to hold her own against the Beautiful Goons, but winning such a wrestling match was a ludicrous proposition for poor, naked little Jodi!

Again, Jodi's eyes popped wide.  "Nrrrm!"  Waiting on the pathway in front of the Blissful Beach Restrained Hairdressing Salon was a motorized wheelchair with balloon tires, the kind used to move non-ambulatory people around on a beach or some other place with loose soil―and this particular chair was festooned with black nylon versions of medical-style restraints much like those of the motorized and adjustable salon chair Jodi had just vacated!

Resistance remained futile as the Beautiful Goons dragged Jodi to the wheelchair, plunked her down on its unpadded black nylon seat and back, then methodically buckled and strapped her in place!  All too soon, and despite her continuing Valiant Resistance, Jodi's wrists, upper-arms, waist, chest (above her bouncing boobs), thighs, and ankles were cuffed and/or strapped in place.  Her wrists were bound to the armrests, her upper body pressed against the chair's back, her butt pinned to the chair's seat, her ankles bound against the leg and foot support, and her knees about a foot apart, leaving her in an arguably unladylike position of which her mother would not have approved!

The Goons stepped back and Jodi continued squirming and fighting her new bonds.  Her fingers fluttered, her toes wiggled, her breasts bounced (a little), she tossed her double-gagged-head, and her newly restored ginger curls fluttered and flounced.

Finally, Jodi forced a final complaint past her gag―"Mrrrf!―stopped struggling, mustered at least the façade of Righteous Outrage, and stared unfortunately impotent daggers at Carla and her towering, supremely competent minions.

The Beautiful Goons exchanged satisfied smiles, then swiveled their beautiful heads to gaze at their petite chair-bound arrested guest through their dark shades.  Carla was finally smiling, but it was an overtly sinister and wicked smile that sent a chill down Jodi's spine (despite of the Hawaiian heat and humidity).

"Beauty in distress is much the most affecting beauty," Carla purred, "and that goes for ginger cuties such as yourself in spades, Ms. Joyuex."  The grinning Goons nodded in silent agreement.

Jodi frowned... and tugged on her wrist-cuffs.  She thought Carla's observation was a quote (not counting the "ginger cuties" addendum), but she couldn't remember where it came from.

"Enough wasted time," Carla huffed, made an abrupt gesture, and they were off.

The dark-skinned Goon was in the lead, next came Jodi and her quietly humming motorized electric chariot, and she assumed Carla and the blonde Goon were bringing up the rear, probably with the Goon guiding/controlling the chair.

They made turn after turn, passing neither staff members nor guests (and therefore encountering no potential rescuers), and were traveling away from the beach and towards the mountains... which meant they were gradually growing closer to the Mysterious Tall Building with the green roof Jodi was so anxious to explore.  Jodi decided to think of this as a good thing, as she was probably about to gather at least some fresh data; however, her current circumstances were hardly conducive to any serious snooping.

Jodi's green eyes wide, her heart pounding in her chest, and panting through flaring nostrils, she tugged on her wrist cuffs and squirmed under her other restraints as the chair rolled along.  It was having no difficulty negotiating the sandy terrain under its balloon tires and was setting a normal walking pace.  Jodi wasn't in what she could call actual physical distress, but her immediate future was arguably uncertain and ominous.

And where the hell is Grizzy? Jodi wondered.  The amazon brunette wouldn't have rescued her, of course, as Carla was Grizzy's boss; but her tan, muscular presence would have been... reassuring.