From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van ©2024
		Chapter 6

Once Jodi settled down from her tirade (which took a few minutes), she stomped around her motel-room-prison-cell and... remained pissed off.  The much-put-upon-naked-investigative-reporter-in-chains frowned, glowered at nothing in particular... did her best to restore order to her tousled ginger curls using only her fingers... then transitioned into sulking and pouting.  She didn't start throwing things around, mainly because there was nothing much in the bedroom for her to throw around.  She also spent time at the window angrily staring down at Central Park... far below.  Remarkably, none of the trees burst into flames and none of the pigeons fled in terror.

Then... Jodi learned that her new "slave chains" didn't interfere with her ability to take catnaps... or sit at her desk and type on the workstation's keyboard... or splash water on her grumpy face in the bathroom.  Go figure.

The remainder of the day passed with Jodi exploring what she could and couldn't do in her revised condition.  Physically, her options were limited.  Break-dancing was out of the question, as was performing jumping-jacks.  Many classical ballet positions were also off limits.

More time passed.  Jodi did a little more writing.  Sloane was pointedly and frigidly ignored when she delivered the dinner tray (although the delicious food was very much not ignored once the maid left).  Eventually, Jodi learned that she could do more than just catnap while locked in chains.  She climbed into bed and actually slept through the night with minimal difficulty.  Go figure.

Zzzzzzzz...

The next morning dawned and Jodi prepared for the new day, meaning she visited the little-investigative-reporters'-room... then made the bed.  (Jodi always made her bed, even when she'd been kidnapped and wasn't sufficiently restrained to make it impossible.  It made her mom happy.  (The bed-making part, not the kidnapping.)

At the usual time (as far as Jodi could tell) the bedroom door opened and Sloane carried in the expected breakfast tray.

By now Jodi had had plenty of time to think of something clever to say to her ginger-mega-hottie-nemesis.  She'd decided to mix things up by putting her anger on hold and appealing to her fellow ginger's sympathy, so this time she didn't ignore her neatly uniformed and impeccably groomed maid/handler.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" Jodi huffed, pursing her lips in her most adorable and heartbreaking pout.  "What did I ever do to you?  Why do I have to be tied up all the time or..."  She tugged on her wrist cuffs.  Rattle-rattle-rattle!  "...locked in chains?  And why can't I have any clothes?"

Okay, maybe Jodi's whining remarks weren't exactly "clever" and the alternative angry diatribe might have been more satisfying, but this approach might catch Sloane off balance and make her... shift allegiances?  Unlikely, as Sloane was obviously having a lot of fun (bondage fun) following the Gibson's orders and subjugating poor Jodi McJoy, but it was worth a shot.

Sloane smiled.  "I'm not being 'mean,' Ms. McJoy," she purred.  "I'm performing my duties with due diligence, and it's all in the furtherance of our employers' special project."  With that she turned and left the bedroom. 

Jodi heaved a sigh, then tucked into a cheese omelet, diced potatoes, lightly buttered white toast, mixed fruit, and coffee.  Clearly, Jodi's attempt to reinforce Sloane's empathy had failed.  The smiling maid hadn't seemed to be at all off balance or conflicted.  Jodi would have to come up with a better approach.

A pair of maids came for Maggie and Abby mid morning, about two hours after their empty breakfast trays had been removed.

Both ginger actresses were in chains (identical to Jodi's slave chains).  The previous afternoon a different pair of uniformed domestics had arrived with black cases and outfitted Maggie with the missing connecting chains and Abby with wrist and ankle cuffs and connecting chains.  The ginger captives' perfectly reasonable and only slightly whining objections were ignored, as were their attempts to resist.  The smiling maids were surprisingly capable at handling naked damsels (something Jodi already knew all too well).  Anyway, they were now lounging around their magnificent bedroom as naked prisoners locked in inescapable chains!  It was very melodramatic.

Anyway, the maids (a brunette with a British accent and a smiling Latina) returned and removed the actresses' chains completely (except for their shock-collars), then tied their crossed wrists together behind their backs with white paracord, slapped strips of off-white tape over their mouths, and led them from the bedroom.  Maggie and Abby were still naked (of course)

"Mrrrf!"

"Nrmmmfh!"

Their collars were not turned on.

The maids and their naked ginger captives passed a smiling blonde maid carrying an armload of clean sheets towards their bedroom... then continued through the penthouse to a large sitting room.

Waiting for them were Peggy and Bethany Gibson, sitting in overstuffed easy chairs and sipping coffee.

"Here they are," Peggy purred.

"Have a seat, ladies," Bethany said, gesturing to three padded straight-chairs arranged in a line off to one side.

The maids plunked Maggie and Abby into the right and middle chairs, then stood behind them with their hands resting on the actresses' bare shoulders to encourage them to remain in place.

Time passed.  Those Gibson Girls sipped coffee.  The gingers thespians exchanged mildly puzzled tape-gagged looks.  The maids continued smiling and were gorgeously stoic.

Finally...  "Where are they?" Bethany grumbled.

"Patience, Sweetpea," Peggy purred, then her smile brightened.  "Here they are."

Sloane and Jodi had arrived, bringing the brunette-to-ginger ratio in the sitting room to full parity.  Sloane was clutching a generous handful of Jodi's copper-red curls and dragging her along.  This was necessary as Jodi was doing her grumpy and ineffectual best to resist.  Like the actresses, Jodi was also naked, her wrists crossed and bound behind her back with white paracord, her lips, mouth, and lower-face smoothly tape-gagged, and a shock collar around her neck—"Mrrrrmfh!"—but Jodi's collar wasn't turned on either.

"What took you?" Bethany demanded.

"She wanted to tussle," Sloane huffed, plunking Jodi in the third chair next to Maggie and Abby—then plunking her again and firmly holding her shoulders from behind the chair when the squirming ginger tried to stand.

"Mrrrrr!" Jodi complained.

"She called me rude names," Sloane stated, and for once she wasn't smiling.

The Gibsons chuckled, the actresses exchanged another look, and the smiles of their maid/handlers widened.

Sloane glared at her smiling fellow domestics and damsel-handlers, whose ginger charges were not squirming and giving them a hard time.  "Shut up," she muttered quietly to the brunette maids.

Peggy pointed her right index finger at Jodi in an imperious manner.  "Be a good girl," she commanded, then nodded at the trio of handlers.

Sloane and her fellow maids leaned to the side and gently peeled the tape from their respective charge's lips.

The naked, wrist-bound, and shock-collared prisoners licked their lips and worked their jaws.  Jodi was the first to recover from her horrific tape-gagged ordeal.

"You!" Jodi accused, glowering at the impeccably dressed, gorgeous, and smiling mother and daughter gazillionaires.  "You're serial ginger-nappers!  That's what you are!"

The Gibsons exchanged an amused look.

"Is she talking about us, Mother?" Bethany chuckled.

"I believe she is, Sweetpea," Peggy responded, then focused her smile on Jodi.  "Inside voice, Ms. McJoy.  Otherwise, I'll have Sloane activate your collar and you'll be excluded from the discussion."

Jodi pouted, then winced when Sloane renewed her tight grip on her hair.  "Okay, okay, but untie me and let me go."

"No," Peggy and Bethany said in unison, exchanged another smile, then sipped their coffee.

Jodi glared at her hostesses/captors/employers... petulantly.  Apparently they weren't going to untie her and let her go.  She'd try again later.  "What exactly are we supposed to be discussing," she demanded, "your stupid 3DP thing?"

"Our what?" Bethany inquired.

"Three—Dee—Pee," Jodi responded, "Damsel-in-Distress Project."

"Very clever," Peggy chuckled.

"I don't think so," Bethany frowned.

"We'll consider it a work in progress," Peggy purred, then focused on Maggie and Abby.  "Introductions are in order."  She then proceeded to do just that, labeling Maggie and Abby as actresses and screenwriters and Jodi as a writer and investigative reporter.

Abby protested that she wasn't a screenwriter yet, but wanted to be.

Maggie smiled at Jodi and said she'd read her book, Luxurious Languishing, and thought it was great.

Jodi blushed.  Obviously, Maggie Malloy was both a ginger-mega-cutie and had good taste in literature.

Abby hadn't read Jodi's book but seemed friendly enough (in a help-we've-been-kidnapped! sort of way).

Bethany promised to have a copy of Luxury Languishing delivered to the actresses' bedroom.

Jodi considered using the mention of the actresses' digs as an opportunity to lobby for a better bedroom-prison, but decided not to press her luck.  If she started making upgrade demands the Gibsons might consider it strike two and order Sloane to activate her collar or do something else she might not appreciate.

Anyway, once the niceties were over Peggy got down to business.

"You were all abducted in a very similar manner," the Gibson matriarch stated.

"Kidnap teams, plasti-cuffs, packing cases, and sedatives," Bethany clarified.

You forgot being stripped naked, Jodi thought, glowering at the younger Gibson.

"It's all part of the 'Method' aspect of our shared endeavor," Peggy continued.  "You each have a preliminary checklist of bondage experiences we think you'll find informative and educational, and now that you've had a chance to understand and appreciate your situation, we'll be a little more formal and start actually checking them off."

"List?" Jodi demanded.  "What list?  Who made this list?  I certainly wasn't consulted."  Was she being a petulant jerk?  Maybe, but she didn't care.

As for the actresses... they were exchanging somewhat dazed (and possibly scared) looks and blinking their green eyes.  Jodi thought they were very cute, but still suspected they'd either "drunk the Kool-Aid" or were very much thinking about it.  Nobody was that cagey.

Meanwhile, Bethany had nodded at Maggie and Abby's brunette maid/handlers and they'd curtsied and exited the sitting room.  Then, she nodded at Sloane.

The occupants of the straight chairs watched as the ginger-mega-hottie-maid strolled to a cabinet across the sitting room, opened a door, and returned with a medium-size black nylon duffel bag.

Ten guesses what's in that thing, Jodi mused.  She noted the actresses were remaining in their chairs and not sprinting for freedom... but then, neither was she.  By this time Jodi was well aware that the Gibsons ran a high-security penthouse and the trained-staff-to-kidnapee ratio was very much in their favor.

Sloane knelt on the floor near the trio of fellow ginger's chairs, unzipped the bag's main compartment, and started pulling out and lining up on the carpet coil after coil after coil of white paracord identical to the cord binding Maggie, Abby, and Jodi's crossed wrists.

Peggy sipped her coffee, then focused on her naked, wrist-bound, and shock-collared guests.  "This first formal lesson-slash-demonstration is entitled... Our Friend the Hogtie."

"Very funny, Mother," Bethany chuckled, then sipped her coffee.

"Thank you, Sweetpea," Peggy smiled, then sipped her coffee again.

Jodi heaved a tragic sigh.  She was not amused.  Also, Sloane was still pulling coils of paracord out of the bag... and where the hell was Jodi's coffee?

Jessica Chastain as... Judith Lavigne

Judith Lavigne worked very hard to maintain her physical condition.  As a famous, award winning, and successful actress, as well as a respected producer and an entrepreneur with a flourishing side-business named "Enchantée" that specialized in intimate apparel, cosmetics, and... "novelties" for discerning women-on-the-go with sizable disposable incomes, it was required.

That said, often Judith found it challenging to clock time in the gym, especially given all the travel required to act in, produce, and promote her various projects.

There was also the paparazzi problem.  There were often a few of the vermin following her around, and "disguises" of ball-caps, headscarves, and/or sunglasses could only take her so far.  With Judith's stunningly beautiful good looks, svelte but curvaceous figure, and trademark ginger locks, it was difficult to evade notice, but she tried her best.  (Thankfully, today none of the pests seemed to be shadowing her.)

Also, genuine lulls in the frantic pace of her schedule were few, far between, and all too brief.  Therefore, when one occurred (as was the case at the moment), she pounced on the opportunity.

It isn't common knowledge, but a surprising number of low-profile high-end spas exist in all the large cities of the world.  They most assuredly do not advertise, are often found in fashionable but not overly exclusive neighborhoods, and cater to exclusive and carefully cultivated lists of wealthy customers.

Expensive?  If you have to ask the price you can't afford it.

Anyway, Judith was currently ensconced in one such establishment in Manhattan.  It was her first time at this particular "boutique gym/spa," but it had been recommended by Lisa Packshaw and so far had lived up to her enthusiastic endorsement.  Judith had already enjoyed a manicure, pedicure, and facial... followed by a vigorous workout under the tutelage of a handsome 30-something trainer named "George" (who had been charming and professional and did not flirt)... and after peeling off her sweaty leotard, tights, and panties and enjoying a quick shower, Judith was ready to be further pampered.

Female attendants dried and brushed Judith's longish hair, then pulled it back in a loose ponytail secured with a jade-green ribbon that complemented her green eyes, helped her into a fluffy white terrycloth robe, them one of them led her to the massage room.

The room in question was paneled with pale oak, lit with an abundance of candles, and wafting through the air was the pleasant and in no way overpowering aroma of burning incense.  Tightly woven mats were underfoot and in the center of the space was a typical padded massage table with an oval opening at one end to accommodate the customer's face.  A sideboard off to the side held piles of fluffy white towels and an elegant glass vessel half-full of amber oil resting on a simple iron holder and warming over a lit candle.  The soft, soothing, melodious tones of a Balinese Gamelan orchestra plaid over the sound system on low volume.

Judith's masseuse was waiting.  She was a diminutive and very beautiful Asian Judith suspected might be Indonesian, and was wearing a short, white, sleeveless, close-fitting tunic-shift of soft linen with a plunging neckline.  Her long, straight, sleek, raven-black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that trailed down her back.  Her mahogany-tan skin was smooth, firm, and flawless.  Beautiful?  The smiling pixie was absolutely gorgeous!

"I am Malikah, madam," the petite beauty said as she curtsied.  "May I take your robe?"

"Please call be Judith," Judith said as she shrugged the robe off her shoulders and into Malikah's waiting hands.  She couldn't help but smile.

Malikah gestured to a teak stool.  "Please be seated, Judith," she requested, "so I may arrange your beautiful hair."

Now totally nude, Judith sat, resting her hands on her lap and continuing to smile (and blush).  (She had to admit she was a little vain about her famously copper-red hair.)

Malikah used a brush, comb, and a very pretty tortoiseshell clip to coil and restrain Judith's ponytail in a tight but comfortable bun.  She then took her customer's hand, guided her to the table, and helped her recline on her back on the soft padding.

The back of her head comfortably nestled in the table's padded oval, Judith watched as Malikah anointed her delicate hands with warm oil... rubbed them together... then commenced to give Judith a prolonged, detailed, and expertly applied Deep Tissue Massage.

Eyes closed, Judith sighed, moaned (softly), shivered, and reveled under Malikah's tactile manipulations.  The smiling pixie's hands were not only delicate, but strong.  Obviously, she knew what she was doing.  The results were both pleasantly intense and profoundly calming.

The massage progressed across every region of Judith's smooth, glistening, and increasingly relaxed anatomy.  Then, Malikah helped Judith roll over onto her stomach.  Her eyes still closed, Judith rested her face in the padded oval, sighed, and the glorious experience continued.

Judith realized she was very much in danger of falling asleep on the table.  It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.  After some time... Malikah gently pulled Judith's hands behind her back, rested them atop atop her buttocks, then slowly and firmly ran her hands down Judith's arms from her shoulders to her wrists, and then—Vriiip!  Vriiip!—something smooth but hard quickly and firmly tightened around her wrists, binding them together!

Judith lifted her head from the oval.  "Malikah?  What—MRRRPFH!"  A rubber ball had been stuffed in her mouth and an attached strap was being buckled tight at the nape of her neck!  She'd been ball-gagged!   A strip of off-white medical tape was added, and Judith was now tape-gagged and ball-gagged!

"Mrrrrrrr!"

Malikah hadn't accomplished this on her own.  She'd been joined by three more petite women, only instead of revealing white tunics they wore black ninja costumes, Japanese style martial arts outfits with full hoods with narrow slits that left only their eyes visible!

Also, Malikah and the she-ninjas were holding her down and/or using more of the same joined plastic cable-tie-cuffs binding her wrists to bind her elbows, ankles, knees, big-toes, and thumbs!  Then, one of the ninjas produced a pair of clippers and used them to snip off all the dangling free ends of the cuffs while Malikah and the other two she-ninjas held her down.

"Mrrrmf!"

Judith squirmed, twisted, tugged, and kicked, but Malikah and her black-clad accomplices controlled her vigorous struggles with depressing competence!

"Nrrrrrmp!"

And then, one of the ninjas stepped away and left the massage room, but quickly returned pushing a packing case on wheels, the kind used to transport gear to and from movie locations.

The ninja opened the case's lid, then all four kidnappers (Judith felt she had no choice but to call then kidnappers) lifted her off the table, and deposited her inside the case, forcing her into a fetal tuck!

"Nrrrrrm!  Nrrrrrr!"

Once Judith was off the table she'd bucked and squirmed and struggled for all she was worth, which, although Judith was in excellent shape and had considerable theatrical fight training, was nowhere near enough to break free from her plastic bonds and escape Malikah and the she-ninjas.

Judith shook a few errant strands of ginger hair from her face.  At some point in her struggles she'd lost Malikah's hairclip and the jade ribbon formerly enforcing her ponytail.  Her green eyes popped wide.  The smiling Indonesian beauty had produced a syringe and tiny glass vial and was preparing to give someone an injection—and Judith had an excellent idea who that someone might be!

"Mrrrm!" she objected, but it happened anyway.

One the ninjas held Judith's head in something close to a hammerlock, the other two prevented her from kicking and squirming her way out of the case, and Malikah gave her the feared injection in the side of her neck!

"Nrrrrrf!"

Then, the lid of the case closed, its latches were secured—C-click!  C-click!—and Judith found herself in total darkness... naked, inescapably bound with plastic, ball-gagged, tape-gagged, and struggling to clear her mind and stay awake.

Finally... quickly, in fact... the inevitable happened and Judith lost consciousness.

Once again Jodi McJoy was supremely pissed off, and any objective and disinterested outside observer would have to agree that she had ample reason.  (That was Jodi's opinion, anyway.)

Jodi was hogtied.  That is, she was naked, lying on her stomach on the luxuriously plush carpet, and bound with a plethora of white paracord!  In fact, it may have been a plethora-and-a-half!  There was a lot of the thin white cord.

Maggie Malloy was in the same basic condition, and so was Abby Anders!  None of their steel shock-collar/chokers had been activated, but there was no point in lodging verbal protests and complaints as all three ginger captives had been tape-gagged with broad strips of Elastoplast/Microfoam from the Gibson's apparently infinite supply.

Sloane and Bethany had done the tying.  It had started out being Sloane only, but Bethany had "taken pity" on the "overworked maid" and asked her mother for permission to put down her coffee, kneel on the carpet, and directly participate in the demonstration.

Bethany: "Mother may I?"

Peggy: "Yes, you may."

With two expert riggers participating the rest of the demonstration went quickly... no more than forty-five minutes.  All too soon (meaning eventually) all three ginger Gibson employees (excluding Sloane) were side-by-side on the carpet in front of Peggy Gibson and Bethany's empty chair.  Jodi was on Peggy's right and had been the first to be tied up.  Maggie was in the middle and she'd been victim number two.  Abby was on Peggy's left, and she'd had the longest to sit and wait... with her crossed wrists tied behind her back and nervously watching while her fellow naked gingers were hogtied.

All three were hogtied?  Yes, but there were marked differences in their predicaments.

Jodi was in a "conventional" or "traditional" hogtie.  Her crossed wrists had been untied and retied with her hands palm-to-palm, and her thumbs and hands had been added to the tie.  Then, her elbows were bound together—cord encircled her waist and pinned her forearms to her spine—a harness of rope pinned her upper arms to her torso (passing above and below and crisscrossing between Jodi's breasts), and yoking her shoulders—her legs were bound together at her mid-thighs, above and below her knees, and also around her ankles, feet, and big-toes.  Finally, her legs were bent back until her heels were hovering directly above her bound hands, and multiple cords tightened to link her wrist and ankle bonds and her upper-body-harness and toe bonds!

Every element of Jodi's decidedly stringent hogtie was comprised of tight bundles of twelve or more doubled strands of paracord.  More overkill, Jodi had silently fumed as it was happening.  Actually, she was secretly glad Sloane and Bethany were using that much cord.  Single, double, or possibly even triple runs of doubled cord would have been much more punishing and might easily lead to rope-burns.  She knew from her experiences at Blissful Beach that in the long term her current Über-hogtie with "too much" cord was better.

The new tape-gag came last, even though Jodi had begrudgingly kept her complaints and biting remarks to herself during the binding process.  Then, the Dynamic Rigging Duo of Sloane and Bethany moved on to their next victim.

Maggie's hogtie was of the "double-cross" variety.  That is, her wrists remained crossed and bound and her ankles were crossed and tied to match.  Next came an upper-body harness and her forearms were lashed to her waist; however, her elbows were not tied together.  Her crossed wrists made that more-or-less impossible.  Also, her legs were bent back and her thighs separately tied to their respective lower-legs in the manner of a "frog-tie."  Finally, her wrists were tied to her ankles and her upper-body harness to the wrist-ankle junction.  This pulled Maggie's body into a bow every bit as stringent as Jodi's hogtie.  Both damsels were balanced on their taut tummies with their breasts off the carpet, Jodi's less so than Maggie as her investigative-reporter-boobs were bigger.

Sloane and Bethany then tape-gagged Maggie and moved on to their third and final victim.

Abby's hogtie was... unusual... at least in Jodi's experience.  Abby's wrists were untied completely, Sloane and Bethany knelt on her left and right, then bent Abby's legs back and lashed each of her wrists to the outside of their respective ankle.  Her ankles were not lashed together.  Next came an upper-body-harness that pinned Abby's upper arms to her sides and yoked her shoulders.  Her elbows were not lashed together, even though Jodi thought it probably would have been possible.  Then, Abby's thighs and lower-legs were frog-tied, the same as Maggie's.  Finally, her big-toes were tied together and multiple doubled strands of cord passed between her toes and the body-harness at the nape of her neck, the slack removed, and that was it, except for the inevitable tape-gag.

Abby's hogtie wasn't as stringent as Jodi and Maggie's and therefore her breasts weren't lifted off the carpet (although they were squashed into the plush pile).  If the toes-to-harness cords had been tight enough to arch her back, Abby's toes would have been in considerable distress and probably purple.  Currently, they were "only" flushed a charming shade of bright pink.

Bethany returned to her chair, retrieved her coffee cup and saucer, and smiled at her mother.

Sloane stepped to the side and smiled (gloated) down at her hogtied fellow gingers.

Rigging details aside, all three victims/subjects were bound using the same "excessive" amount of the thin paracord; Abby, Maggie, and Jodi.

Jodi wiggled and squirmed and generally tested her inescapable and overly abundant overkill bondage.  She already knew she was wasting her time, but it was expected.

On the other hand, Maggie and Abby blinked their green eyes and watched Jodi wiggle and writhe.

Peggy sipped her coffee, then smiled.  "It's traditional for a newly bound bindee to perform a 'courtesy struggle' to let your rigger know that she's done a proper job," she announced, "and it's clear my Sweetpea and Sloane had done magnificent jobs."

"Thank you, Mother," Bethany purred, then sipped her coffee.

Sloane smiled and dropped a curtsy, her freckled cheeks glowing with a delicate blush.  (Jodi thought it was very cute... in a disgusting and infuriating sort of way.)

"Mrrrf!" Jodi mewled in resentful manner, then continued struggling.

Their green eyes still blinking, Maggie and Abby exchanged a brief tape-gagged look... that also started struggling (carefully), the same as Jodi.  It punished their bound toes and the knots securing their bonds were all hopelessly out of reach, but (according to Peggy) it was traditional and expected, so what choice did they have?

The "Courtesy Struggling" continued for an additional minute (or less), then Jodi huffed through her tape-gag, stopped struggling, and stared daggers at the smiling and gloating Gibson Gazillionaires.

Maggie and Abby followed Jodi's lead and stopped squirming as well.  They did not stare daggers at their kidnappers/employers, but at least their green eyes weren't blinking.

Peggy set down her coffee cup and saucer, stood, and smiled down at the hogtied gingers.

Bethany set down her coffee as well and stood beside her mother, also smiling.

"Well, that's the hogtie," Peggy stated.  "Future demonstrations will cover the ball-tie, the shrimp-tie, semi-suspensions, full suspensions, and permutations thereof.  There are many possibilities."

"And once we've explored rope and cord," Bethany added, "we'll move on to leather, latex, various forms of tape, and cold steel."

"Like I said," Peggy added, "many possibilities."  She smiled at her daughter.  "Well... we'll leave you to it."

The hogtied naked gingers watched as the Gibsons turned and strolled from the sitting room... then watched as Sloane gathered the Gibson's coffee cups, returning them to a tray on a nearby sidetable  holding the rest of the coffee set.  Then, the smiling maid gave the naked hogtied captives a saucy wink, lifted the tray, and followed her employers, leaving the prisoners behind on the floor of the sitting room, naked, very hogtied, shock-collared, and tape-gagged.

Maggie focused on Jodi.  "Mrrrf?" she inquired.

Abby focused on Jodi as well.  She also had questions.  "Mrrrp?"

Jodi glowered at her fellow victims in disgust.  How the hell should I know? she silently fumed.