From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van © 2023
		Chapter 6

Jodi's balloon-tired and restraint-equipped wheelchair, the Beautiful Goon's tropical-weight combat boots, and Carla Tarantola's bare feet rolled, stomped, and padded down the pathway (respectively), drawing near to their destination.  Finally in close proximity, Jodi could now see that the Mysterious Tall Building with the green tile roof was the centerpiece of a tastefully landscaped courtyard with a splashing fountain, three or four large lava-rocks standing upright like stone monuments, clusters of tree-shaded bench seating, and a couple of low outbuildings, one on either side.

And once she had an unobstructed view of the Tall Building in question, she counted eight or possibly nine stories.  The exact number was unclear as the glass-fronted ground floor might be a double-height lobby fronting two stories.  As she'd previously suspected, the architectural style matched the spa buildings Jodi had already visited, only on a grander scale, of course; however, it was a somewhat slender tower and not exactly massive―but then, how much office space did a resort spa need, even a luxury resort spa?  On the side of the tower facing the courtyard Jodi could see several small, tasteful balconies randomly and tastefully scattered among the windows of the upper stories, all with balustrades in the forms of decorative iron railings, and about half of those balustrades were quite enthusiastic.  In fact, they were iron cages that enclosed the entire balcony!  Whether this was to protect the rooms' occupants from dragons, giant bats, and/or flying monkeys, or to keep them from swan-diving into the courtyard fountains below was unclear.

Oh-by-the-way, there were people present other than Jodi, Carla, and the Beautiful Goons.

Far overhead Jodi could see a naked woman on one of the caged balconies of an upper floor.  Her hands were clutching the bars, but she didn't appear to be bound or gagged in any way.  Jodi assumed she was a guest like Jodi herself... who was bound and gagged.  Down in the courtyard, a couple of bikini-clad women (Staff?) were sitting on a bench and having themselves an amiable chat.  A bikini-clad woman (obviously Staff) was strolling across the courtyard from left to right with a firm grip on the left arm of a naked woman with her wrists crossed and tied behind her back and a strip of tape over her mouth (obviously a guest).  Finally, a bikini-clad woman was leading a coffle of three naked women from right to left.  The captive trio were linked collar-to-collar by white rope and their upper bodies bound with more white rope.  The first was in a box-tie, the second in an arms-behind-her-back-with-elbows-touching-tie, and the third in an arms-raised-and-wrists-bound-behind-her-head-tie.  Finally, they were gagged with a panel-gag, ball-gag, and tape-gag, respectively.

As per Jodi's previous experience at Blissful Beach, all the women present, staff and guests, represented a veritable United Nations of athletic, physically fit, and curvaceous pulchritude.

Jodi's party stomped, padded, and rolled across the courtyard... and were ignored by the other women.  As they approached the Tall Building's main entrance, its automatic doors slid open and a petite brunette followed by a pair of much taller women emerged.

The woman in the lead―Jodi's green eyes popped wide!―was Carla Tarantola!!

Somehow, unseen, Grizzy's waifish boss had sprinted ahead of Jodi's chair and her Beautiful Goon escort and into the Tall Building!  Also, she'd changed clothes!  Instead of the black mini-pencil-skirted-dress with mesh-fronted plunging neckline she'd been wearing at the time of Jodi's, uh, arrest, she was now wearing an equally black, lightweight mini-sundress with spaghetti straps, and she'd slipped on a pair of black high-heeled pumps!

The tall women behind the re-costumed Carla were East Asian (possibly Japanese) and South Asian (possibly Indian) and were wearing sneakers and medical-style scrubs, all in black, but not sunglasses, like the SECURITY Beautiful Goons.

While Jodi continued staring, Carla stepped into view from behind the wheelchair and padded towards the other Carla.  That's right!  There were two Carlas!

"This is the one?" the Carla in high-heels asked the barefooted Carla.

"Obviously," barefoot Carla purred.

Both had turned and were staring (glowering) at Jodi with what she could only call thinly disguised hostility.  Then, the new Beautiful-Goons-in-Scrubs joined the SECURITY-Beautiful-Goons and together they quickly and deftly unbuckled Jodi's restraints and lifted her to her bare-feet.  At that point Jodi decided to lump together all tall, gorgeous women assisting any iteration of a Carla, shod or unshod, as Beautiful Goons (or BGs) regardless of uniform.  Anyway... "Mrrpfh!" Jodi complained and/or protested.  Her tape-ball-gag had remained in place, of course.  Standing between the BGs-in-scrubs, who had firm grips on her wrists and upper arms, she blinked her amazed green eyes and watched as the original BGs-with-shades turned the wheelchair and wheeled it away, heading back across the courtyard towards the Green Maze and abandoning Jodi to the care of the BGs-in-scrubs and the two Carlas.

By this time, and despite the many various distractions, Jodi had come to realize the presence of two Carlas could only be explained by them being either clones or identical twins.  As thus far there had been no science fiction elements of any kind to her Blissful Beach Spa investigation, she decided to go with the twins theory.  Also, as she was dragged closer to the two Carla's she could see the Blissful Beach name-tag pinned to the high-heel-wearing Carla's dress read "Elizabeth Tarantola."  That cinched it.  Twins, Jodi congratulated herself, definitely twins.

"So, Liz," Carla addressed her twin.  "Dinner tonight?  You can tell me how all of this..."  She made a vague gesture that included Jodi.  "...turns out."

Elizabeth (aka Liz) nodded.  "Lobster salad at the Beach Pavilion.  I'll make the arrangements."  She nodded to her scrubs-clad minions.  "Let's go.  Don't want to keep the doctor waiting."

With that, Carla turned and padded back towards the green maze, Liz spun on her high heels and led the way into the Tall Building, and the BGs still firmly gripping Jodi's wrists and arms hustled her in their diminutive boss' wake.

The Doctor? Jodi wondered.  Doctor who?  I mean what doctor?  (There was no reason to think the long-running BBC science fiction drama was involved either.)

They entered what was a typical office building lobby and the doors slid closed behind them.  The decor was Modern Polynesian, of course, like Jodi's bungalow.  Very tasteful.  There was a receptionist's desk/counter with a cute flaxen-haired receptionist, as well as a few typically beautiful and/or stunning women strolling around, some in bikinis and some in tropical-weight business attire.  Tiny Liz (who wasn't tiny Carla) as well as tiny Jodi and her tall BG escort bypassed the receptionist, were ignored by the other women, and made a beeline for a pair of elevators.  They entered the one on the right and Liz tapped the button for the top floor.

Once they arrived, the carpet under Jodi's bare feet was lush and thick, a distinct change from the sand of the beach and the pathways of the green maze.  So far, she was impressed.  The Tall Building was a "classy joint."  That is, whatever the hell was going on with respect to all of the spa's nudity and bondage nonsense, understated luxury and elegance was the norm in their headquarters.  Granted, the Polynesian Modern decor would probably be highly unusual in the offices of a typical Fortune 500 company in New York, Chicago, London, or any other major city, but they were in Hawaii.  Anyway, the place was snazzy.  Very snazzy.

They arrived at a pair of double doors and Liz led the way through and into another lobby.  Not surprisingly, it was much smaller than the main lobby on the ground floor―and was actually an outer office rather than a lobby―although an outer office was a form of lobby, right?  (Jodi was nervous.)  There was another receptionist, like on the ground floor, and this time she was a redhead.  In fact, she was a ginger!  In fact, she had a head of tight ginger curls much like Jodi feared would have been her fate but for the intervention of Aisling and Citra, the Viking and Balinese (possibly) hairdressers; however... the receptionist carried it off.  That is, she looked really cute with Little Orphan Annie curls.  In fact, she was beautiful, and her smiling features (and all the rest of her that Jodi could see) were covered with freckles.  Jodi, of course, was a "clear," the kind of redhead with a pinky-peach complexion that colored upon exposure to the sun, but didn't get a multitude of freckles (if any); but she'd always liked freckles... in moderation.  Anyway, Jodi hated the receptionist, both because she was a traitor to Jodi's cause (which she unfairly assumed) and looked totally unsurprised by her fellow ginger's naked captivity.  Her Blissful Beach name-tag read "Erin Thornson."

"She's expecting you, Ms. Tarantola," Erin said with a friendly smile, her green eyes sparkling.  "You can go right in."  Simultaneously, she pressed a button on the console of her receptionist-style phone.

Liz nodded and led the way through another pair of double doors and into a large, tasteful, Modern Polynesian decorated office.

Doctor Payne

Seated behind a large desk was a very tall, 40-something blonde with pale, straight hair and wearing a very pretty and probably hideously expensive light-weight, black and white dress.  Her features were... interesting (in Jodi's opinion)... not classically beautiful, but symmetrical and very attractive in their own way.  The tropical hardwood and brushed gold-tone nameplate on her desk read "Dr. Greta Payne / Blissful Beach Director," and the name was repeated on diplomas, certificates, and what were probably awards hanging on the walls.  Obviously, this was the aforementioned "Doctor"... and she was not smiling.

As Jodi watched, The Doctor pressed a button on her phone and spoke into the air.  "Erin, please bring in a guest jacket, size slim petite."

"Yes, Doctor," Erin's disembodied voice answered.

Jacket?  Guest jacket?  I'm gonna get clothes?  Jodi stared at The Doctor and The Doctor glowered back.  Her eyes were blue, by the way... very blue.

The doors opened and Erin-the-ginger-receptionist entered.  In her hands was―Jodi's eyes popped wide!―"Mrrrmpfh!"―what she instantly recognized as a straitjacket!  It was natural canvas, appeared to be somewhat stiff and heavy, and was festooned with way-too-many heavy-duty straps of cotton webbing with tinkling steel friction-buckles!  Jodi struggled and squirmed, but her firmly held wrists and arms might as well have been locked in steel.

And then―"Mrrrrm!"―despite Jodi's continuing resistance and reluctance―it happened!

Erin held the jacket open and the two black-scrubs-clad Goons did the honors, shrugging off Jodi's vociferous-but-muffled objections and her continuing struggles with indifference and ease (respectively).  When the dust settled―(Vriiip!  Vriiip!  Vriiip!  Vriiip!  etc.)―the jacket was hugging Jodi's upper body and pinning her crossed arms across her waist and under her semi-squashed boobs in the traditional self-hug, and it wasn't by choice, that was for darn sure!

The jacket was not one-size-fits-all.  It might was well have been custom tailored... more of less.  It closed and buckled in the back by means of something like five cotton webbing straps with steel friction buckles―had a canvas webbing collar―and more cotton webbing was sewn along the outside of the sleeves from shoulders to the closed fingertip-and-hand-encasing ends.  In addition, it had a strap that tightened over her crossed forearms in front, pinning them against her tummy―a horizontal strap that pinned her encased upper-arms to her sides―diagonal straps further pinned her arms to her body and reinforced the self-hug―and finally, a pair of crotch-straps that passed to either side of her immodestly exposed pussy and ginger bush and anchored the bottom of the jacket!  The garment was a prime example of redundant and ridiculous bondage overkill!  Harry Houdini himself wouldn't have been able to make any headway whatsoever trying to escape from the over-engineered monstrosity!

At the same time, the jacket was unarguably stylish.  It was sleek and close-fitting without haphazard creases or folds, and the free end of every strap that Jodi could see was tucked into a convenient canvas retaining-sleeve.  Everything was neat and tidy and nothing flopped or rattled around as Jodi struggled―which she most certainly did!

The Petite Prisoner of the Jacket rolled her shoulders, twisted at the waist, and generally squirmed and tugged against anything she could.  "Mrrrmpfhrmmm!"  She also complained.  This happened for several long seconds... with Jodi's ginger curls fluttering and swaying... perhaps for as long as half a minute... then Jodi realized her handlers had all taken a few steps beck and were watching her pathetic efforts with overtly gloating wicked smiles.

The Doctor was still behind her desk and Jodi noticed she was also smiling... finally... and it was a quirky version of her employees' self-satisfied smirks.

Liz Tarantola was smiling as well, but her expression was downright sinister!

Also, Erin-the-traitorous-Ginger was blushing, and her freckled face glowing.  That is, her adorable features shone with a patina of sweat.  Obviously, she was really enjoying Jodi's floor-show.

"You've never worn one of our jackets, have you, Erin?" Liz purred, focusing on the now fidgeting redhead (meaning the redhead that wasn't Jodi).

Erin's blush intensified and she shook her head (and her crown of ginger curls).

"An oversight that can be easily rectified," Liz continued.  "I can see that you're curious."

"Later," The Doctor stated.  "Let's concentrate on the matter at hand."  She pointed to one of the two comfy-looking visitor chairs facing her desk.  "Have a seat, Ms."...  She paused to open the file folder in front of her and gaze at the contents.  "Joyuex."

Jodi was more interested in escaping the jacket and sprinting (scampering) away to hide somewhere, but was perfectly willing to take a load off.  In any case, she wasn't given an option.  The BGs dragged Jodi to the chair indicated, plunked her onto the leather seat (which was cool and not at all unsettling against her bare bottom and naked thighs), and gripped the convenient loops in the jacket's convenient shoulder straps to pin her in place.

"Coffee," The Doctor ordered, then gestured to the still smiling Goons.  "Secure her, please, then wait outside."

The Japanese Goon returned to the outer office, together with Erin... then reappeared with a pair of dark-tan-with-white-padding medical-style cuffs joined by a short leather strap Jodi suspected was a hobble, as well as a second much longer coiled strap.  While the Indian Goon continued making sure Jodi remained in the chair, her partner knelt and buckled the cuffs around the no-longer-squirming Jodi's ankles, confirming that it was a hobble.  She then deployed the second strap, threaded the loop at one end through a steel ring in the center of the hobble's strap, passed the remaining strap under the chair to the rear... there was a click as she secured a snap-hook through a D-ring sewn into the back of the jacket's collar, and Jodi was in the chair until she was released.

The Goons smiled and bowed respectfully to The Doctor, then Liz, then strolled into the outer office... stepping aside to allow Erin to reenter the office with a tray holding a complete coffee service for two.  She set the tray on a sideboard, poured coffee into the pair of cups, added a splash of cream to one, then carried the cups and saucers to The Doctor and Liz, who had settled into the second visitor chair..  (Jodi noted The Doctor was the one that used cream.)  The Traitorous Ginger than gave her Fellow Ginger (the captive one) a dimpled and freckled smile, then turned and made her exit... closing the office doors behind her.

"My cute little receptionist is far too adorable and talented for you to deprive me of her services so you can indulge your dark fantasies," The Doctor purred as she sipped her coffee.

(Jodi assumed The Doctor was addressing Liz, as her fantasies were all focused on escape and continuing/starting her investigation, and were anything but dark.)

Liz sipped her coffee before answering.  "Only after working hours.  This isn't the first time she's dropped hints that she's... inquisitive about sanatorium operations."

Jodi's worried, green-eyed gaze darted from the tiny brunette to the statuesque blonde.  Sanatorium?  Did she say 'sanatorium?'  There's a sanatorium?  She gave her jacket a brief, half-hearted, squirming test.  It seemed to hug her back even tighter.

"After work hours only," The Doctor nodded, "and not to interfere with her duties," The Doctor warned, "and be sure to keep video recordings of whatever you and your people do to her... for the record."

"Of course," Liz chuckled.  "For the record."

The Doctor took another sip of coffee... then focused on Jodi.  "Ahem.  Now... to the matter at hand."  She returned her cup to its saucer, then once again opened the folder on her desk and coolly perused its contents.  "It would seem you've been, shall we say, less than truthful while filling in your registration paperwork, Ms. Joyuex."  She then shifted her disapproving (sinister) quirky smile to Jody.  "Or should I say... Ms. McJoy?"

Jodi's green eyes popped to maximum width.  Busted!

"Personally, I don't read Domino magazine," The Doctor purred, then turned to Liz and raised an eyebrow in question.  (It made her sinister smile look even more quirky.)

Still smiling her sinister-but-adorable smile, Liz shook her head, causing her rather short straight brown hair to sway, with the exception of her bangs.

Jodi blinked her green eyes several times.  Bangs.  She'd just realized Liz had bangs, and her twin, Carla hadn't, or didn't, or whatever.  There's a way to tell them apart, Jodi realized. Maybe that'll come in handy at some point, although exactly how and for what purpose she had absolutely no idea.  Jodi also realized her heart was thudding in her chest and she was panting through flaring nostrils above her tape-ball-gag.  She tried her best to calm herself and concentrate on the matter at hand... which was being naked, bound, gagged, and busted!

"Sometimes clippings from Domino make it into certain of our guests' dossiers," Liz purred, "especially if the photos are sexy, but I don't remember anything attributed to someone named 'Jodi McJoy.'"  She frowned.  "What sort of name is 'McJoy,' anyway.  It sounds made up to me."

Jodi knew her background was Scottish, Irish, and French (meaning Norman), filtered through generations of intermarriage between various clans and invading ethnic groups, then totally garbled by an incompetent and no doubt bigoted Immigration Service clerk at Ellis Island.  She totally agreed that the moniker 'McJoy' was suspect and resolved to finally look into the matter... once she wasn't naked, bound, gagged, and being dragged around a luxurious Hawaiian resort by beautiful/sinister women.  Also, Jodi noted the fact that articles with photo-spreads from Domino had made their way into "guest dossiers" confirmed the celebrity angle she'd been hoping to investigate.

"The authenticity of the surname of the nosy reporter snooping around my resort is unimportant," The Doctor huffed, glaring at Jodi.  "What is important is the privacy of our guests."  She closed the file and tossed it in a tropical hardwood in-basket, then gazed at Jodi over steepled fingers.  "So... what to do with Ms. Jodi McJoy."

Jodi swallowed nervously and willed herself not to start blinking again.  She succeeded with respect to the swallow, but failed with respect to the blinking.

Seconds passed... slowly... with The Doctor continuing to gaze at her naked, ginger-haired, straitjacket-bound and tape-ball-gagged problem.  Liz continued her sinister but attractive smile.  Finally, The Doctor turned to Liz.

"Ms. McJoy's booking is upgraded from Economy-B to Standard-BE," The Doctor said finally, "and I grant you full authority to employ all means and methods at your disposal to ascertain what our little snoop has been up to for the past two days."

Her green eyes wide (but at least no longer blinking) Jodi looked from Liz... to The Doctor... and back.  'Standard Bee Eee?'  What the hell is 'Standard Bee Eee?' And what does she mean by 'means and methods?'  And as for what I've been up to, I've been naked, usually tied up, and usually gagged!  That's what I've been up to!  Just ask me!  "Mrrrm!" Jodi stated.  She hadn't meant to say anything, but had involuntarily blurted out her quite reasonable objection/observation.

"Meanwhile," The Doctor continued, "I'll get our people in New York involved, and otherwise waste my valuable time resolving this debacle."  She pressed a button on her phone console... the office doors opened, and the two Beautiful-Goons-in-scrubs returned.

Liz pointed at Jodi as she rose from her chair.  "With me," she ordered.

"Mrrrf?" Jodi inquired, but was ignored.  The Doctor was still glowering at her with malevolent quirkiness over steepled fingers while Liz was smiling and watching as the Goons set about releasing Jodi from her chair.  The strap was un-clipped from the back of her collar, un-looped from around her hobble, and the snap-hook clicked through a D-ring in the front of the jacket's collar.  Then―"Mrrrr!"―Jodi was lifted from the chair, Liz slipped the loop in the strap (the strap that Jodi now realized was obviously a leash) around her right wrist, and led the way from the office with the two Goons following close behind.

Jodi turned her head as best she could to look back at The Doctor in order to plead for mercy (or possibly beg for an interview), but the Goons were in the way.  Then, they were through the doors and into the outer office.  Jodi did manage to catch a glimpse of Erin the traitorous ginger receptionist, but before Jodi could warn her of her impending fate as Liz Tarantola's after-hours plaything, they were through the office doors, out in the corridor, and headed for the elevator.

Liz was setting a reasonable pace―reasonable if your ankles aren't buckled in padded cuffs separated by a short hobble, that is―so Jodi stumbled and stutter-stepped in her wake.  "Mrrrmfh!"  The Goons stepped forward and took firm grips on the convenient and cleverly placed loops sewn in the webbing sewn into Jodi's jacket, which meant Jodi was now simultaneously going for walkies at the end of Liz' leash and being frogmarched... which wasn't at all humiliating.

They made it to the elevator (with Jodi flustered and her dignity having taken a serious hit), entered the car, Liz selected a button near the bottom of the panel (that Jodi now realized continued alarmingly below the "L" or Lobby level).  The car dropped...  there was an irritatingly cheerful ping... and the door opened again.

Next came more walkies/frogmarching down an arguably gloomy corridor.  Its walls were painted a depressing shade of "institutional green" and the LED lighting was somewhat dim and a cold blue-white.  They made a turn... followed by another... and began passing rather substantial steel doors with hefty hinges and cypher-lock equipped L-shaped handles (the kind even Velociraptors can open if they aren't locked).

Liz paused at one of the doors (and therefore so did Jodi and her BG escort), entered a code in its cypher-lock (which bleeped cheerfully as she tapped the pad), but unfortunately the Evil Munchkin's body was blocking Jodi's view so she couldn't memorize the code.  There was a final bleep, Liz opened the door, and the goons shoved Jodi across the threshold.  "Mrrrf!"  How rude!  She managed to remain on her hobbled feet, despite the decidedly thick and bouncy padded surface underfoot.  She also managed to turn in place to face the door, but it was already closing!

And oh-by-the-way, the inner surface of the door was completely covered by a thick, white, canvas pad!  As were the walls!  All four walls!  As was the ceiling!

Jodi was in a padded room!  A dyed in the wool, no holds barred, old-fashioned insane asylum padded room!

It was square.  In fact, it was a cube, about 12-feet on a side.  Light was coming from a single blue-white LED fixture set in a can recessed in the ceiling pads and "protected" by a steel grid, although how anybody was supposed to be able to jump up and attack the light fixture Jodi had no idea.  Also, in two opposite corners of the ceiling were a pair of silvered-glass domes, the kind used to "conceal" video cameras.  Jodi was under surveillance!  ...or might be.  Also, the wall-padding was divided in flush-mounted panels, all the same height and width as the padding on the inside of the door.  That meant there was was absolutely nothing to differentiate the door from all the other pads at floor level.  There wasn't even a view port, with or without a protective steel grid like the lighting fixture.  Jodi realized it was only a matter of time before she completely lost track of which wall was which!  ...not that it really mattered.  Also, for all she knew, any one of the pads could be concealing another door.

So... this was Jodi's first opportunity to experience being naked (not counting the strap-happy, Houdini-proof, canvas straitjacket hugging her upper-body like a lovesick python), hobbled, and tape-ball-gagged in a loony-bin bounce-castle.  She decided she'd just as soon pass... not that she had any choice in the matter.  She padded (bounced) to the wall opposite the camouflaged door (while she was still sure which wall was which), settled to the mattress-like floor, rested her back against the mattress-like wall, shook her head in a semi-vain attempt to shake the disordered strands of ginger curls that had fallen across her gagged face... and heaved a gagged-sigh.

Obviously, Blissful Beach Spa did, in fact, have a "Sanatorium."  Jodi wondered how extensive its facilities might be―and worried that she might eventually find out!