It was a short
journey down the Sanatorium's dimly lit institutional-green
corridors for poor naked, bound, gagged, flustered, confused,
but not flogged Jodi and her BGs-in-scrubs
handlers. They passed more cypher-locked steel doors (with
L-shaped Velociraptor-friendly door-handles) and the ceiling
track continued, extending into the distance before them and
branching whenever they crossed a junction in the corridor;
however, they were not cluttered with dangling
damsels. Anyway, it would seem the Sanatorium was fully
equipped to easily and efficiently distribute suspended captives
throughout its facilities at the staffs' whim.
Finally, they paused at an apparently randomly chosen door, the
Japanese BG entered a code and opened said door, and they
trundled and walked into a large... gym and/or physical therapy
room? The LED lighting overhead was the same icy
blue-white as the corridors, only brighter. And why did
Jodi think it was a gym and/or physical therapy room? She
found herself staring at...
1. A generous alcove clad entirely in tiles
with multiple shower-heads mounted in its three walls at
various heights, all focused inwards.
2. A treadmill with a handrail on either side, similar
to the running/walking machine Grizzy had forced her to use
back in the outdoor gym in the Green Maze.
3. A universal resistance machine, also similar to the
setup back in the Green Maze Gym that Jodi vividly remembered
watching Grizzy use while she involuntarily trudged
on the treadmill.
4. A permanent massage table (as opposed to a
folding/portable massage table).
5. What appeared to be a fully adjustable medical
examination chair/table, the kind commonly seen in doctors'
offices, clinics, or hospitals.
6. An oval-shaped, stainless steel, hydrotherapy tub,
the kind used in gyms and sport team locker rooms for soaking
athletes.
7. A stainless steel commode set in a small alcove
opposite the shower.
8. Various stainless steel cabinets (most with
glass-covered doors) full of stacks of towels, bottles of
unknown substances, cardboard boxes, and cartons full of
who-knows-what.
It was all of these things in aggregate that suggested to Jodi
that she was in a gym and/or physical therapy facility―and
oh-by-the-way, all of the above were tricked out for
bondage!
1. The shower alcove had stainless steel
eye-bolts embedded in its three walls at various heights and
between the various shower-heads, all with dangling stainless
steel chains!
2. More eye-bolts with more dangling chains were
embedded in the ceiling directly over the treadmill!
3. The universal resistance machine was festooned with
padded medical-style cuffs and dandling straps on its
hand-grips, seat, and various pads!
4. The massage table was more-or-less a twin of Angel
and Abuya's Restrained Massage Table back in the Green Maze,
right down to the cuffs and straps!
5. Like the resistance machine and massage table, the
medical chair/table was also festooned with
medical-style cuffs and dangling straps... lots of
medical cuffs and dangling straps!
6. The hydrotherapy tub had a hinged cover, a grid of
thin steel bars or thick wire, and when closed it would trap
its hypothetical user inside the tub just at the
maximum waterline!
7. More eye-bolts and dangling chains surrounded the
steel commode!
8. (On the other hand, the cabinets were cabinets and
not accessorized for bondage.)
In Jodi's not-entirely-disinterested opinion, taken as a whole
the place did not bode well!
Jodi's handlers gave her several seconds to take in all the
details... then started unbuckling the straps and removing her
from the embrace of the Damsel Transporter. They then
released the friction buckles and released her from the
straitjacket!
"Mrrrmfh!" This was not a complaint on Jodi's
part. If anything, it was encouragement; however, she
remained nervous.
Positive developments continued. The strip of tape was
peeled from her lower-face―"Mrrrf!"―then the hobble-cuffs were
unbuckled from around her ankles. That meant that except
for the ventilated ball-gag still plugging her mouth, Jodi was
naked and completely free!―for about two seconds.
That was when the negative developments started
happening.
"Mrrrf?" The BGs seized Jodi's wrists and upper-arms and
frogmarched her (okay, to be fair, led her) in the
direction of the commode; however, they paused at a nearby
cabinet to outfit Jodi's wrists and ankles with thick, wide, but
surprisingly lightweight stainless-steel cuffs lined with black
neoprene padding. The cuffs secured by means of cylinder
locks that recessed into the cuffs when pressed―Click!
Click! Click! Click!―but before Jodi could
give her new fashion accessories more than a cursory assessment,
her wrists were clipped together behind her back, she was
dragged (led) close to a stainless steel stool near the commode,
and watched as the Indian BG sat on the stool. Then, the
Japanese BG "encouraged" Jodi to lay across the Indian's lap,
face down! "Mrrr!" You better not start spanking
me! Jodi silently warned (desperately hoped), but soon
realized a spanking was not what the BGs had in mind.
So... what was happening? "MRRRMF!" Jodi's
green eyes popped wide as she realized she was about to
receive her first ever ENEMA!
That's right! The BGs were deploying a classic
bowel-cleansing apparatus in the form of a rubber bladder or bag
full of warm water with a long dangling hose terminating in a
blunt probe! And before Jodi had fully come to terms with
what was happening, the probe was inserted between her butt
cheeks and into her anus―"Meeep!"―the clip restraining the
contents of the bag was released, and―"MRRRF!―she felt warm
fluid flooding into her bowels!
The surge abated... there was a brief pause while the probe was
removed and Jodi tried her best to come to terms with her now very
full condition... then she was lifted off the Indian BG's
lap, plunked down on the commode, and her ankles quickly secured
to eye-bolts embedded in the floor to either side, leaving her
legs widely splayed.
And then... the BGs turned their backs on the naked, helpless,
bound, ball-gagged, and squatting ginger and strolled
away. The Japanese BG went to a cabinet and lifted a
fluffy white towel off a stack while the Indian BG went to a
deep sink and rinsed and disinfected the enema-bag's
probe. This gave Jodi a window of what she decided to
consider "privacy" so she could conduct urgent business, so she
did. There was a pause... then the commode flushed and its
hitherto unsuspected bidet function kicked in and gave her
nether region a thorough and distressingly cold prolonged
rinse. "MRRRF!" Granted, the rather energetic stream
could have been warmer, but Jodi decided it wasn't that
uncomfortable. What it was―what the entire enema
experience was―was humiliating. Jodi was
not happy.
Then, she started blinking again. 'Standard-BE
Package!' Dr. Payne the blond giantess had upgraded
and/or changed her booking from the "Economy-B Package" to the
"Standard-BE Package." Did the "E" stand for
"Enema??" That's just... NUTS!! Jodi
decided. The 'E' has to stand for something
else. 'Entertainment?' That doesn't make sense
either. Too general.
While Jody was contemplating this conundrum, the BGs returned.
The Indian BG carefully inserted the curved straw of a
liter-size Nalgene bottle through the perforations in Jodi's
ball-gag, and started squirting spurts of the bottle's contents
into Jodi's mouth. It was cool water, and Jodi decided it
was most welcome. Removing the ball-gag and
letting her chug a glass of water would have been better, but
she decided she was just fine with the arrangement. She was
thirsty (or had been), and the Indian BG was doing a good
job of moderating the flow and not making her sputter and choke.
Next, Jodi's ankles were released, she was lifted to her feet,
and the Japanese BG used the towel to thoroughly dry her crotch
region; and she was enjoying the process way too much
for Jodi's liking.
Then, Jodi was dragged (led) to the treadmill and encouraged to
stand on its rubberized track between the two rails. The
BGs quickly and deftly completed various arrangements, and when
the proverbial dust had settled Jodi's wrists were connected to
the side rails by loose chains and a body-harness of
neoprene-rubber straps was snap-buckled around her torso.
It yoked her shoulders, horizontal bands passed above and below
her breasts and encircled her waist, and diagonal bands passed
between her legs, framing her pussy and crossing her
butt-cheeks. Finally, a pair of vertical chains were
snap-linked to D-rings in the harness' shoulder-straps.
There was sufficient slack in all of the chains to allow Jodi
reasonable freedom of motion, but not enough for her to get off
the treadmill. Her ankle-cuffs were still in place but not
attached to anything, including each other. Also, her
perforated ball-gag remained in place, and between the
wrist-cuff chains and harness semi-suspension chains Jodi
couldn't possibly reach the strap's buckle at the nape of her
neck and under her fluttering ginger hair.
And then what Jodi feared was about to happen happened,
namely... walking. The machine hummed to life, the track
under her bare feet began to roll, and she had no choice but to
step off and put one bare foot in front of the other to keep
pace. The BGs smiled and watched... in gloating
silence. They could have explicitly warned Jodi
of the dire consequences of failing to cooperate with
their involuntary exercise program, but apparently they didn't
feel like they had to. The threat was clear.
Jodi walked... then walked some more... then started running as
the treadmill slowly gained speed. She jogged for a while
(with her boobs bouncing in rhythm to her pounding bare feet)...
then resumed walking when the belt slowed... then ran some more
when the pace picked up again... all accompanied by the rattle
of her wrist-cuff-to-side-rail-chains. Lather, rinse,
repeat (or rather, bounce, sweat, repeat). It was nothing
Jodi couldn't handle, but nobody had asked her, least of
all the BGs. It was infuriating.
Finally... after way-to-many long, vigorous minutes...
the Indian BG tapped the machine's control panel and the
treadmill ground to a halt. Then, both of Jodi's handlers
released her from the side-rail chains, unbuckled and removed
the support body-harness, and dragged (led) her from the
machine.
So, obviously, next on their agenda would be a nice refreshing
shower for poor sweaty Jodi McJoy, right? Wrong!
Jodi was dragged, kicking and screaming (meaning grumpy, sweaty,
and scowling) to the universal resistance machine and forcibly
secured in its minimally-padded-but-not-uncomfortable
embrace. Jodi's steel wrist and ankle-cuffs were employed,
as well as a broad belt of nylon webbing across her lap that
pinned her to the seat. Next, the Japanese BG swung the
machine's touchscreen control panel on its articulated support
arm to the front where Jodi could see (glower) at its
approximately 9" x 12" screen. She noted a timer counting
down in one corner, a list of about a dozen or so of the usual
lower and upper-body exercises conducted on such torture devices
("LEG LIFTS," "CHEST PULLS," etc.), and across the bottom was a
warning message that read: "FAILURE TO EXERCISE WILL RESULT IN PUNISHMENT."
Jodi started blinking again. 'Punishment?' What
kind of 'punishment?'
The timer on the screen cycled down to "00," the first item on
the list was highlighted ("BICEP CURLS"), and a window
popped open showing an animated cartoon of a naked female figure
performing the indicated exercise. Jodi stared at the
screen for a few seconds, then―Zap!―she got her
answer. The padded seat under her butt was
electrified! "Mrrrf!" Truth be told, the jolt had
been more startling than painful, but it kept happening as she
scrambled to grab the machine's hand-grips and began emulating
her tiny cartoon nudist guide. The zapping ceased
immediately, which was a good thing.
Set followed set... exercise followed exercise... and Jodi
worked her way to the bottom of the list. By this time she
was sweating for real. The running machine had
given her a nice glow, but now she was positively gleaming.
Also, her muscles burned and felt heavy. Jodi was
exhausted. She didn't think she had much more to give,
even if the wires embedded in the padding under her butt decided
to start zapping her again.
Fortunately, Jodi had reached the end of her mandatory exercise
period. The BGs released her from the machine and
frogmarched her to the shower. Soon, she found herself in
the tiled alcove in a standing spreadeagle, facing the main
gym/therapy room with her neoprene-lined steel wrist and
ankle-cuffs chained to the side walls. She hung in her
bonds, shining with sweat, ball-gagged, and trying her best to
muster the strength to glare at her smiling handlers.
And then... Jodi heard a gurgling sound, there was a brief,
sputtering pause... and―"MRRRRRF!"―she was bombarded from all
sides by a veritable vertical monsoon of ice-cold
water! Okay, the water wasn't ice-cold, per se, but it had
come as a surprise and was cold enough! But why had Jodi
been surprised? After all, she was spreadeagled in the
middle of a shower. What did she think was about
to happen? Hey, she was tired and exhausted,
okay? Give her a break. Also, it had occurred to her
that maybe the "E" in "Standard-BE Package" stood for
"Exercise," but that didn't make any more sense than
"Enema." After all, the "Economy-B Package" had included
exercise in the outdoor gym in the Green Maze. Anyway...
Gradually (too gradually) the water warmed to blood
temperature... continued for some time... then finally
stopped. Jodi opened her eyes and watched as the Japanese
BG entered the alcove carrying a bucket sloshing with sudsy
water in her left hand and a scrub brush with a long handle in
her right. "Mrrrf!" Jodi objected, but was ignored.
The smiling Nipponese BG used the scrub brush to give Jodi a
thorough scrubbing. "Nrrrm!" Fortunately, the
bristles were reasonably soft and the soap was of the
no-more-tears variety. The BG cleansed her from head to
toes, and thanks to the ventilated ball-gag plugging Jodi's
mouth, a little of the soapy water found its way inside!
The taste was unpleasant, but only slightly so. Soon, Jodi
was dripping with suds, and as much as she hated to admit it,
the scrubbing ordeal had been more-or-less invigorating.
The Japanese BG rejoined her Indian companion... there was a
brief pause as they smiled at Jodi (wickedly)... then once again
the shower heads sputtered to life. Jodi endured (meaning
enjoyed) a thorough rinse... then the water
stopped and she hung in her bonds, dripping wet... but not for
long.
The Indian BG stepped forward with a fluffy white towel and
started giving Jodi a thorough rubdown/drying, including her
gagged-head and sopping wet hair. Once Jodi was
substantially dry, she stepped back and the Japanese BG took her
place, continued drying Jodi's hair, then used a fresh towel to
give her a tightly and expertly wrapped towel-turban―and to make
sure it remained in place, she produced what amounted to a
hairnet of white cotton mesh and stretched it over the turban.
Next, Jodi's neoprene-lined steel wrist and ankles cuffs were
unlocked and removed and her handlers dragged her to the medical
examination chair/table. At the moment it was more-or-less
a table, the various padded supports all adjusted to a single
horizontal plane. Next thing she knew, Jodi was on her
back on the padding, naked, her gagged-head resting against the
sinister thing's headrest, and her wrists and ankles secured at
her sides and against the footrests with dark-tan, padded
medical-style cuffs. A padded collar was tightened around
her neck, then oversized cuffs were buckled around her upper
arms and thighs. Then, straps were deployed, tightened,
and buckled above and below her boobs and across her
waist. Next, apparently satisfied with their handiwork but
without so much as a word of farewell (gloating or otherwise),
the BGs turned and walked away. In fact, they left the
chamber, closing the door behind them and abandoning Jodi to her
naked, strapped down, and ball-gagged post-exercise and shower
fate!
Jodi squirmed and tested her new restraints. They creaked
a little but otherwise easily defeated her efforts. Big
surprise. Also, it was disgusting that the departed
BGs hadn't even bothered to gloat and savor Jodi's naked, bound,
and gagged helplessness... which the naked prisoner considered
to be simply... rude!
Jodi heaved a sigh. She assumed that eventually she was
going to be returned to her padded cell, or possibly forced to
endure another of Blissful Beach Spa's infamous
Restrained Massages―but if that's the plan, she thought,
why didn't they strap me to the massage table? She
craned her neck and looked to the side. It's right
over there. Jodi heaved another sigh and closed her
eyes (there being nothing to look at other than the quiescent
but nonetheless ominous exercise equipment... and settled in to
rest. She felt a lot better than immediately after her
involuntary Restrained Workout, as well as clean and relaxed,
but was still more-or-less exhausted. So...
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~
