From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van © 2023
		Chapter 8

For once, Jodi was not blinking as she stared at the contents of the stainless steel lab cart revealed when the mysterious Beautiful Woman (BW) whisked away the pastel-blue cloth cover... and Jodi's green eyes remained wide and staring... but not blinking.

The contents in question were neatly arranged atop another pastel-blue cloth, and they were...

1.  A row of three VIBRATORS, ranging in size from―SMALL (with a slender shaft and a tiny knob at the tip that bristled with, uh, bristles)―to MEDIUM (a torpedo with a rounded tip)―to LARGE (a Magic Wand-type hummer with a saddle-shaped business end).  All were cordless, battery powered and/or rechargeable, and to Jodi's semi-experienced eye they looked like expensive, top-of-the-line models, all in black plastic with chrome steel details and their tip, end, or saddle coated with black latex or rubber!

 2.  A row of steel SURGICAL/MEDICAL INSTRUMENTS, including what Jodi believed was referred to as...  A Warcraft Wheel?  No, that's wrong, she decided.  Wartenberg Wheel!  That's it.  Whatever its accepted designation, it was more-or-less a free-spinning spur, a wheel of needle-sharp spines on the end of a conveniently curved handle!  The other instruments were "normal" tweezers, forceps, and blunt probes, made sinister only by the general context.

3.  A row of long to medium FEATHERS or QUILLS!  Bird feathers!  And Jodi noted that the tips of their shafts had not been trimmed and sharpened for calligraphy.  Also, no cute little bottle of ink was present!  She very much feared the feathers were there for some other purpose!

4.  A pair of brown cotton GLOVES with their palms and the inner surfaces of the fingers lined with what Jodi assumed was brown fake-fur!  She hoped it was fake, anyway.  She hated to think some cuddly little critter had given its all so its pelt could be used to line the inner exterior of a pair of gloves!

5.  A half-dozen or so camel-hair BRUSHES, artist-type, ranging in size from fine-tip to about an inch!

6.  A very nice looking HAIRBRUSH & MATCHING COMB SET, which Jodi wouldn't have considered to be at all threatening if it wasn't for that pesky general context factor.

Jodi squirmed, twisted, and wiggled, continuously fighting the padded cuffs and taut straps confining her to the adjustable examination chair/table.  The thing was currently in conventional gynecological-mode, so Jodi was "comfortably" seated in a semi-reclined position with a padded collar pinning her head against the padded headrest―her elbows bent and wrists and upper-arms secured to either side of her head―and her knees bent and legs obscenely splayed in something approaching a full split!  Also―"MRRRF!"―she was ball-gagged (as previously mentioned).  Anyway, Jodi was inescapably restrained, but she struggled anyway.  It was a nervous reaction.  By-the-way, her hair was still wrapped in a white cotton towel-turban secured by a semi-elastic cotton hairnet.  Turban-net?  Whatever it was called, her ginger curls were contained, controlled, and not falling across her wide-eyed, ball-gagged, and very dismayed face.

Meanwhile, the sexy and unnamed Beautiful Woman (BW) was still present, wearing sexy black lounge-pants and a black sleeveless top revealing significant cleavage, a version of the black scrubs worn by Jodi's departed Japanese and Indian Sanatorium Staff Beautiful Goon (BG) handlers; and the anonymous brunette was quite obviously enjoying Jodi's squirming and quite obviously negative reactions.  Her gorgeous, sexy smile could only be described as gloating, gleeful, and wickedly winsome.

Jodi stared in abject horror at the cart and its ominous instruments... then at the gorgeous gloating BW... then at the contents of the cart... then at the BW.  Jodi still wasn't blinking.  Apparently, she'd used up her daily quota of nervous eyelid flutters.

And then... the BW (still smiling) picked up the pair of brown cotton gloves lined with sleek, gleaming brown fur and began pulling them on.

"Nrrrrrm!" Jodi whined, discovered a hidden reservoir of unexpended blinks, and began doing so.  She didn't want anything to do with the evil gloves!  No siree!  Not even a little, thank-you-very-much!  Her vulnerable and helpless pussy quivered in total solidarity!  No gloves! Jodi objected.  Her entire wiggling, squirming, struggling body agreed!  NO!!  GLOVES!!

The BW blatantly ignored Jodi's clearly communicated preference.  In fact, once the gloves were properly fitted and she'd flexed her fingers a few times in a menacing manner... the BW reached out and began giving Jodi's inner-thighs, labia, clitoris, and lower tummy (including her ginger pubic bush) a gentle, thorough, and meticulous massage!

"Mrrrrrpfh!"  (That was Jodi.)

"Mostly," the BW explained quietly, "this first session will be an assessment of your sensitivity and pleasure thresholds."

"Nrrrrrr!"  Jodi remained opposed to the exercise... more-or-less.  Her pussy, inner thighs, and lower tummy were all having second thoughts.  In fact... as Jodi's struggles took on a more rhythmic nature (at least between her belly-button and knees) the anatomy in question began tingling... and continued tingling.

"Once that's accomplished," the BW continued, "a regular regimen of formal and informal E-Therapy will commence."

Jodi's non-crotch negative attitude remained unchanged.  That is, she continued struggling.  Jodi was not interested in any form of E-Therapy!  "Mrrrf!"

"Don't worry, Ms. McJoy," the BW chuckled.  "You'll get with the program... eventually.  They always do."  She continued stroking and gently prodding Jodi's lady bits with the wicked glove.  "In fact, I suspect you may very well be one of my more responsive patients... once you accept the inevitable."

Jodi continued squirming and struggling... and the BW continued her insidious massage!  "Mrrrmfh!"

And then... the furry gloves stopped!  Jodi shivered (her pussy tingled in resentment) and she watched as her tormentor smiled, gave the fingertips of the gloves a delicate sniff, then peeled them off and returned them to the cart.  Jodi continued watching as the BW picked up the Wartenberg Wheel and gave its disk of needle-sharp spines a spin.  Chiiiiing!

Jodi frantically shook her gagged head, as much as the padded collar would allow.  "Nu-uh!  Nrrrm!  Nrrrrrrrm!"

The BW ignored Jodi's frantic but well-garbled objections, as well as her ineffectual escape efforts, smiled, and put the insidious torture instrument (and medical diagnostic tool) to use―but not on Jodi's pussy!  The sexy, smiling torturer leaned close and began using the spinning wheel of needles to explore Jodi's right breast!

Jodi squeezed her eyes tightly shut―"Mrrrrrrrrrf!―and froze in her bonds as the wheel traveled over and dimpled the flesh of her boob and delicately pricked her inexplicably erect nipple!  The BW pressed just hard enough to suggest pain, but that was all; however, it was enough, and the experience was not pleasant, not by any means.  In fact, Jodi wanted it to stop!

And then, the BW shifted her attention (and the wheel) to Jodi's left breast and repeated the entire process!

"Mrrrpfh!"  It was pathetic whine, of which Jodi was not proud, and now her eyes were glistening.  Jodi was, indeed, not happy.

And then, it got worse!  The wheel left Jodi's breast and traced a slow, sinuous track down her abdomen... orbited her bellybutton... then continued down her lower tummy... through her ginger pubic bush... and began exploring the same region the BW had examined with the gloves... rolling across Jodi's upper/inner thighs, labia, and clitoris!

"MRRRRRF!"  (Jodi again.)

The BW took her time.  Jodi was rigidly frozen in her bonds with her eyes tightly closed... but tears were escaping and sliding down her cheeks.  And while her pussy had been willing to at least tolerate the furry glove, it wanted the wheel-of-needles to GO AWAY!!  Jodi's boobs had broadcast a shrill warning of the evil device's potency to her entire anatomy, so her pussy had already been worked up!  Unfortunately, it was all an entirely moot point (pun intended), both in toto and with respect to individual anatomical regions!  The wicked, smiling, evil BW continued her detailed assessment, and Jodi had no choice but to endure!  She was free to shiver and squirm, of course, and she did so.

It was horrible!  The prickly spur continued probing; however (thankfully), it did zero damage!  Go figure!  Anyway, the needle-sharp ordeal went on and on and on... then stopped when the BW returned the wicked instrument to its proper place on the cart... smiled down at the arrayed contents... and selected the large, cordless, wand-style vibrator with the saddle-shaped head!

"MRRRRRF!"

The BW ignored Jodi's objections and her vigorous but totally ineffective struggles, clicked on the wand―Hmmmmm―and directed her evil (sexy) smile to Jodi's wide-eyed, sweaty, and ball-gagged face.

"MRRRRRF!"

And then... it really happened!

With what by this time was totally unsurprising skill and finesse, the BW pressed the vibrating saddle against Jodi's pussy in general and her clitoral region in particular... and began moving it around!  And she didn't stop!

Now, Jodi's heart was pounding, she was flushed and sweating, continuously squirming and fighting her inescapable bonds, and―"Mrrrrrfk!"―screaming and/or whining through her ventilated ball-gag.  (Drooling was also happening.)

At some point three things happened in rapid succession:

1.  Jodi went totally rigid in her bonds... her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her hands tightly clenched, and her feet and toes pointing.  She also stopped breathing.

2.  Jodi experienced what she later decided was the most intense orgasm of her entire life (to date)―and while Jodi's busy schedule as an Intrepid Investigative Reporter did take up most of her time, she was not without sexual experience.  This was not Jodi's first orgasmic rodeo.

3.  Jodi passed out.  That is, she swooned like a proper Victorian maiden.

The smiling BW held the vibrator in place for a few seconds... just to be sure... then clicked it off and returned it to the cart.

Jodi opened her eyes and blinked (of course).  She was still restrained on the adjustable chair/table in the gynecological (and pussy stimulation) position in the Sanatorium's Therapy-Room/Gym/Orgasmatorium.  She was no longer panting through her gag and her heart-rate had returned to "normal," but now she needed another shower... maybe... or at least a quick sponge bath.  No, a sponge bath is a BAD idea, she decided immediately.  Who knows what'll happen if the BW starts using wet sponges and/or washcloths on my naked body.  No sponge baths, thank you very much!

The cartload of whoopie-toys was nowhere to be seen, and-oh-by-the-way, the chair's headrest had been folded down, and somebody (Jodi assumed it was the BW) was behind her and using a brush and comb (presumably from the now missing cart) to brush her hair!  It was an outrage!  It was horrible!  It felt... good.  Jodi closed her eyes and heaved a gagged sigh―and yes, of course, the ventilated ball-gag was still plugging her mouth.

"I think I've learned what I need to know from our first session," the BW purred as she gently dragged the brush through Jodi's ginger tresses.

Yes, it was the BW.  Jodi recognized her sexy voice.  Wonderful, the prisoner-of-the-chair silently fumed, and Jodi had noted the reference to her recent erotic torture being a "first session," but that was hardly a revelation, so it had little impact.  Jodi's stomach grumbled.  She hadn't eaten since...  Jodi hadn't eaten for some time.

Apparently the BW had heard the quiet gurgling noise.  "We'll get you something to eat very soon, Ms. McJoy," she chuckled.

The hair grooming stopped... then the BW stepped back into view.  Jodi was utterly exhausted... but managed to muster the strength to glower at the gorgeous older woman.  The brunette was still serenely smiling and very sexy (of course).  It was infuriating.

And then, as if on cue, the Japanese and Indian Beautiful Goons reappeared.  They were still wearing the same black scrubs (without name-tags), and it occurred to Jodi that they had probably already been in the chamber, having entered while she was unconscious (and suffering from acute rapid onset orgasmic rapture).  The smiling beauties had been standing behind or beside the BW and no doubt watching her brush Jodi's hair in gloating silence.  Anyway, without saying a word... the BGs pounced!  That is, they stepped forward and began releasing Jodi from her chair.

Jodi mustered her remaining strength to rigorously resist whatever her handlers intended to do to her; but unfortunately, the aforementioned remaining strength was barely enough for Jodi to manage a whining protest.  "Mrrrf!"  In short order, Jodi's wrists were behind her back, crossed, and bound together with stout cord or thin rope (probably braided nylon, color unknown).  Next, her ankles, feet, and big-toes were tied together with white braided paracord.  Jodi decided her wrist bonds were probably similar, but at the moment couldn't confirm the fact.  Also, it would seem that Blissful Beach Spa and Sanatorium Standard Procedure was to bind guests' ankles, feet, and big-toes, as opposed to just their ankles.  It was superfluous bondage overkill and yet another source of infuriating outrage.

All too soon, Jodi was naked, ball-gagged, bound hand and foot (and ankles and big-toes), and over the Indian BG's right shoulder in a fireman's carry with her feet to the fore and head to the rear.  They headed for the Therapy Room door with (apparently) the Japanese BG in the lead.  Jodi lifted her gagged head, shook her newly brushed ginger hair from her face, and glared at the smiling BW as they crossed the chamber's threshold.  The Indian BG paused to close the door with her left hand, then they continued down the corridor.

Jodi let her head drop and didn't bother even trying to follow where she was being taken.  What difference did it make?  She was naked, bound, gagged, and couldn't do anything to influence what was happening, even if she'd had the strength to try... which she didn't.

The journey continued... they took a few turns... then Jodi found herself in what was possibly the same padded cell where she'd been incarcerated before.  The only thing missing was the straitjacket and padded hobbles; but unfortunately, in their place was waiting a canvas sleep-sack!  Like the missing jacket, it was thick, sturdy, and had waaay-too-many thick, broad straps of cotton webbing ready and waiting to be secured with friction buckles!

"Nrrrrr!" Jodi protested (whined) as she squirmed and stared down at the waiting encasement.  Unfortunately. the BGs dismissed her negative opinion, as well as her weak struggles.  She was heaved off the Indian BG's shoulder and onto the padded floor, her wrist and ankle-foot-big-toe bonds were untied, then her handlers slid her into the bag and forced her hands and arms into the interior sleeves on either side.  "Mrrrklmpfh!"

The BGs zipped the bag closed―Ziiiiip!―then pulled its neck-to-ankles crisscross cord lacing tight, snugging the bag close around Jodi's weakly squirming body―"Mrrrk!"―then began securing its many horizontal webbing straps.  "MRRRRRM!"  All of this took a while... especially securing the friction-buckles, removing all the slack, then tucking all the free ends into their canvas retaining sleeves.

Finally, the deed was done.

The BGs stood and watched (with gloating smiles) as Jodi wiggled and squirmed and bucked and twisted and did everything she could think of to escape from the neck-to-toes sheath.  The damn thing was tight and didn't allow a great deal of motion... as she quickly discovered.  From its broad canvas collar to its canvas booties (or single-bootie to be more precise), the bag fit her like the proverbial glove.  And like the former straitjacket, it was not a one-size-fits-all garment with a multitude of broad straps tightening over a mess of haphazard loose folds.  The sheath might as well as have been custom-made.  Obviously, the Sanatorium didn't skimp on its patient attire.  Jodi surmised that somewhere they must have a large storeroom crammed with an array of jackets, body-bags, and who knows what else, all in a wide range of sizes.

Jodi didn't bother continuing to force garbled and muffled protests, complaints, and negative customer service comments through her ventilated ball-gag.  There wasn't much point.  But then, there wasn't much point in testing the efficacy of her new, nearly-total canvas encasement either, so she stopped struggling as well.  What she could do, however, was shake her head in a vain effort to clear her tousled red curls from her face and stare emerald green daggers at her handlers, so she did both!

The BGs continued gazing down at Jodi with infuriating serenity... then the Japanese BG knelt, reached behind Jodi's head, parted her ginger hair, unbuckled the ball-gag's strap, then re-buckled it on its first hole.  Jodi used her jaws and tongue to force the ball from her mouth, it flopped under her chin, and the gag was now an ugly necklace.

Meanwhile, the Japanese BG had gracefully stood (still smiling), and together with her Indian companion was leaving the cell, abandoning Jodi in her well-padded confinement.

Jodi worked her jaw and swallowed, but her gorgeous handlers were already across the threshold and the padded door was closing!

Jodi rolled onto her side and objected.  "Hey!  Stop!  Come back!  What about dinner?"  The door closed with a solid but well-muffled thud.  "Lunch?"  Jodi squirmed in her encasement.  "Breakfast?"  She heaved a for once un-gagged sigh, then relaxed.  "You promised," she whined, then rolled onto her back, once again, stared up at the padded ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Seconds passed... then, without warning, the padded door swung open, the Indian BG took a step into the cell, stooped, deposited a steel tray on the padded floor, then turned back to the door.

"Wait!" Jodi objected as the door swung closed―Thud!―but again she was too late.  Once again Jodi was alone in her cell... or not quite.

Resting on the hefty-looking stainless steel tray was a large, stainless steel doggie-dish and a tankard-sized, stainless steel mug with a wide, tip-resistant base and a tight cover with the end of a plastic straw protruding.  Jodi blinked and stared at the tray.  The bowl was full of bite-sized mini-pastries, egg-rolls, burritos, or... whatever.  There were several different varieties and they all looked and (once the aroma reached her) smelled yummy.  Jodi's stomach started gurgling again.

"Thank you!" Jodi shouted (knowing her polite gratitude would probably go unheard).  She then started wiggling, squirming, and inch-worming―(Is that a verb?)―towards the tray.  This took significant effort, even though it wasn't a very long trip.  The body-bag was tight and very restrictive.  Anyway, she finally arrived, shook the hair from her face (with limited success), then captured the end of the straw with her lips and sampled the contents of the mug.  It was some sort of ice-cold fruit concoction (Mango-Peach?) and really hit the proverbial spot; but then, at this point room-temperature tap-water would have tasted like nectar.  She then turned her attention to the bowl, used her lips and tongue to pull one of the mini-nuggets into her mouth, bit down, and chewed.  Whatever it was, it was delicious!

Jodi's unusual (but most welcome) hands-free meal continued until the bowl was empty, the straw was sucking air, and her stomach was comfortably full.  She then rolled away from the tray, closed her eyes... and settled in for a much needed post-exercise, post-orgasm, and post-meal nap.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Over the course of the next five days―although everything was happening within the confines of the Sanatorium's padded cell (or cells), dim institutional-green corridors, and Therapy/Stimulatorium Chambers, there were no windows or clocks, and Jodi wasn't entirely sure precisely how much time had passed―the ginger-haired Intrepid Investigative Reporter led what might best be described as a tightly controlled existence.  She was kept in securely buckled medical restraints and/or inescapably knotted ropes 24/7, all rigged by the skillful hands of a variety of black scrub-wearing Beautiful Goons.  Most of the time she was restrained and cared for by the same Indian and Japanese BGs as on the first day, but there were a few new faces, all equally beautiful and/or gorgeous.

There was no sign of The Doctor, Liz Tarantola, or Carla Tarantola, and the same went for Grizzy and the rest of the gang from the spa.  Were her spa handlers somewhere in the depths of the Sanatorium, naked, bound, gagged, and being questioned and/or punished for their supposed complicity in Jodi's surreptitious journalism?  Jodi hoped not.  She hoped they were back at Blissful Beach Spa and happily manhandling naked guests, tying them up, giving them involuntary massages, grooming their hair, taking them for walkies, swims in the ocean, trips to the outdoor gym, etc.

Jodi harbored no ill will against any of her Blissful Beach handlers... meaning Grizzy and the bikini-wearing others.  The Doctor and the Tarantola Twins were a different kettle of fish, of course.  Jodi wouldn't mind seeing those three naked, tied up, and getting a taste of the flogger.  Anyway...

Jodi's "days" were mostly spent involuntarily exercising in the Therapy Room.

At one point she experienced the joy of being bound hand and foot, ball-gagged, and incarcerated in the stainless steel therapy-tub, trapped under its tight and flush-fitting lid of steel bars while it slooowly filled with water!  At some point Jacuzzi-type water-jets kicked in and she was pummeled by "soothing" pulsating streams from several different directions.  Luckily, the tub stopped filling when her upturned gagged-face was still six inches below the steel grid, so she didn't drown.  Also, the water was comfortably warm, even hot.   So, as wet and horrifying ordeals went... it wasn't that bad.

On another occasion, Jodi discovered that the Sanatorium had a steam room... and it was a perfectly normal steam room without dangling chains, steel cages, or anything but the usual tiled benches... and lots of steam.  It was definitely hot.

And speaking of hot, Jodi's Japanese and Indian handlers didn't just drag her to the steam room door and shove her inside.  No-siree, they removed their sneakers, stripped off their black scrubs and panties, and joined her!  That was unexpected.  And as it turned out, the BGs were just as gorgeous when they were nude, flushed, and dripping with sweat as they were in uniform.  Go figure.

And to make matters worse (so to speak), they took turns holding Jodi close and using sponges and a bucket of cool water to wash away the rapidly accumulating sweat in an attempt to keep her from overheating.  They used the dripping sponges on themselves as well.  Jodi wouldn't have allowed any of this wet pampering to happen, of course, if not for the fact that she was bound hand and foot and ball-gagged.

Jodi noticed that a lot of rope was being used, mostly white braided nylon paracord, especially when water was a part of whatever was being done to her.  Apparently, the staff didn't want to bother with the difficulties and maintenance involved in dealing with wet canvas and/or leather.  Understandable, Jodi supposed... also inescapable.  All of the BGs, not just the Indian and Japanese BGs, were highly competent riggers.

But what about the unnamed Beautiful Woman, Jodi's self-professed E-Therapist?  Oh yes, as promised (warned), Jodi "suffered through" many sessions with the BW, as many as two or even three a day!  The hideous ordeals happened with Jodi strapped to the Gynecological Chair/Table, on the Restrained Massage Table, and tied up in her padded cell!  As it turned out, the BW was not only an expert pussy-diddler and orgasm-extractor, but also an expert masseuse, rigger, and handler.  She was the full package, and easily up to the task of handling petite little Jodi's pathetic resistance... and she really seemed to enjoy her work!

As it turned out, tacking an "E" on the end of a Blissful Beach Spa and/or Sanatorium package changed the entire character of the guest experience.  Who knew?  Luxurious tropical bondage was one thing, but expert orgasm extraction was all together something else!  Jodi hadn't even thought about Grizzy doing unsolicited but pleasurable things to her body before she was wheeled to the Tall Tower to met Dr. Payne and the BGs and BW with no names.  She hadn't even entertained the possibility that her Restrained Massages back at the Spa might have had "happy endings!"  But then she was involuntarily booked into the Sanatorium... and suddenly forced orgasms had become very important!  Go figure.

As for Jodi's "nights," they passed within the confines of her padded cell... or identical padded cells, plural.  Sometimes she was zipped and strapped in her apparently custom-fitted canvas body-bag, and sometimes she was bound with a multitude of white rope or cord from toes to shoulders.  She was usually allowed to sleep with the ball-gag in necklace-mode around her neck, but on one occasion (probably because somebody was in a particularly sadistic and/or bitchy mood) she spent a sleep-period with a wide strip of Microfoam tape plastered over her lips and lower face.

"Day" followed "night" followed "day" followed "night"... and Jodi got no closer to escaping and continuing (meaning starting) her journalistic investigations.

And then, one "morning," the Japanese and Indian BGs roused Jodi from her restrained slumber, released from her from the canvas body-bag, the ball-gag was popped into her mouth and the strap tightened―"Mrrrf!"―her wrists were crossed and tied behind her back, and she was hustled from her padded cell and down the dimly lit corridor.  Her handlers seemed to be in a particular hurry for some reason.

They arrived at the Therapy Room and Jodi was subjected to her now "routine" daily enema; but then, in a break with routine, Jodi was spreadeagled in the tiled alcove and subjected to a refreshing shower!  This usually only happened after she was forced to do her daily exercise, so Jodi very much noticed the change.

The wetting-down, soapy-scrubbing, and thorough rinsing complete, Jodi was toweled dry... including her ginger tresses, which received a quick brushing and combing... then her still slightly damp hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and secured with some sort of clip.  Next, Jodi was released from the shower's standing-spreadeagle-chains and fitted with a new costume.

The outfit was mostly natural canvas webbing straps with only a little heavy canvas cloth.  The materials carried forward the Sanatorium's bogus medical theme; however, it was clearly a bondage-lifestyle design and not medical patient restraints usurped for nefarious purposes.  When the last broad strap was vripped tight through its friction-buckle and its free end tucked into its canvas sleeve, Jodi's fingers and hands had been laced into tight-fitting canvas bondage-mittens, her arms folded behind her back, the mitts secured together against her spine, and her upper arms pinned to her sides by a pair of horizontal webbing straps, one passing above her boobs and the other below.  Also, a pair of diagonal straps yoked her shoulders and there was a webbing collar!  It might be described as a minimalist straitjacket version of a box-tie.  At least there was no waist-cinching corset-belt or crotch strap.  However―"Mrrrrrf!"―the ventilated ball-gag was still plugging Jodi's mouth and it was now augmented by a wide strip of stretched and well-adhered Microfoam tape that sealed her lips and covered her lower face from ear-to-ear and nose-to-chin!

And before Jodi could give her new restraints more than a cursory examination and futile struggle, the BGs grabbed her arms and frogmarched her from the Therapy Room and out into the corridor.  Her handlers set a brisk pace.  Obviously, they were on a tight schedule (whereas Jodi was in tight bondage).

Eventually they approached an elevator―something that hadn't happened since Jodi first arrived at the Sanatorium―entered the car, and it began to rise.  Jodi watched the indicator lights illuminate in ascending sequence... and it soon became obvious they were heading for the top floor.  And then―Bing!―the door opened and they had arrived.

Dominique???

Once again there was plush carpet under Jodi's bare feet and once again she found herself in the tastefully appointed Modern Tropical/Polynesian/Hawaiian splendor of the Blissful Beach Spa (and Sanatorium) Tower.  Also, sunlight was streaming through the window-walls!  The sun still existed and it was early morning!  Jodi blinked and squinted until her eyes adjusted to the bright light and she was able to appreciate the palm trees, flowering shrubs, and green roofs of the Spa dowb below, the white sand of the beach beyond, and the blue Pacific.

And then, not to Jodi's great surprise, they passed through the double doors of Dr. Payne's outer office.  Jodi had just enough time to note the smiling presence of her fellow ginger Erin-the-secretary behind the receptionist's desk... then they were through the matching double doors and into the Spa/Sanatorium Director's spacious, luxurious, and tastefully appointed office.

Jodi noted the blonde giantess herself was her desk and comfortably seated in her throne-like office chair.

Liz Tarantola (brunette bangs and all) was smiling from one of the visitor chairs facing the desk.

And seated in the other visitor chair―

Jodi's green eyes popped to maximum width in total, complete, and flabbergasted surprise (see also alarm, terror, and dismay)!

Seated in the second visitor chair was... Dominique DeFossé!!

That's right, Dominique!  The super-loaded CEO and Creative Editor of Domino Magazine!  Dominique!  Jodi's boss!  The boss who'd given her the assignment of checking out Blissful Beach Spa that had landed her in her current predicament!

Dr. Payne was in a tropical-weight tan, beige. or possibly ecru dress or frock.  It was difficult to tell exactly what its exact style might be (other than custom tailored and hideously expensive) as she was seated behind her gigantic desk.  Liz was in a black sundress that was showing a lot of firm, smooth, pale skin, and Dominique was wearing a very pretty dress in a very pretty shade of royal-blue.

And oh-by-the-way, Jodi's boss had a somewhat worried expression on her beautiful/gorgeous face, her hands were in her lap, and her wrists were clamped in a pair of what were unmistakably shining steel handcuffs!!  Dominique was a prisoner!

To say the least... something was up!