From the Many Thrilling Adventures of Jodi McJoy!
		by Van ©2024
		Chapter 7

Bryce Dallas Howard as... Brie Aspen Grant

Brie Aspen Grant is always busy.  She always has many irons in the proverbial fire and wears many proverbial hats.

For example, at the moment Brie and her people are in negotiation for an important directing job and reprising her roles in the next installments of two different and very popular film franchises; however, none of those gigs would enter their active phases for several months, and possibly more than a year in the case of one of the movies.  It was always like that with projects involving a coalition of different studios. 

Development is a delicate process, especially when the principles have so many different calls on their time.

Anyway, Brie had finally finished promoting her last film and was looking forward to a two or three week vacation... if she could decide where she wanted to go.  Maybe the Caribbean, or maybe Hawaii... one of the outer islands.  At the very least she'd check out of her Manhattan hotel and go home to California... in two or three days.

And then, late yesterday and out of the blue, Brie had received a call from Lisa Packshaw.  Apparently, there was a highly promising (and well-funded) multi-year development enterprise in the works involving big money, and Lisa thought she might want in on the ground floor.  Brie probably would have declined if it had been almost anyone else than Lisa.  Brie was not wanting for work; however, Lisa wasn't prone to exaggeration and had an uncanny ability to sniff out promising deals and had the savvy required to pull them together and nudge them in the right direction.  Her reputation as a person worth listening to and for not wasting your time was well earned.  So... why not?

The next morning...

Without telling anyone where she was going (at Lisa's insistence), Brie left her hotel dressed in a tailored dark Prussian-blue business suit (high-heeled pumps, pantyhose, skirt, blouse, and jacket) and, with the courteous but largely unnecessary help of the hotel's doorman, stepped into the back of the black town-car/limousine Lisa had promised would be waiting to whisk her away to a very hush-hush meeting with the mysterious project's senior executives at an undisclosed location.

The chauffeur behind the wheel was a smiling, handsome, brawny fellow in traditional uniform.  Brie slid into the back and secured her lap and shoulder belt—Click!—and the limo pulled away.  She noted the interior was exquisitely upholstered and there was the usual compact bar integrated into the back of the lower half of the partition separating her from from the front.  Brie had just enjoyed a light breakfast and was uninterested in coffee, tea, or whatever beverages might be waiting in the thermoses and crystal decanters.  The glass upper half of the partition was closed and the limo's side windows were heavily tinted.  Brie could barely make out the scurrying pedestrians on the sidewalks or details of the slow-moving vehicular traffic.

Brie settled in for the ride... then noticed a quiet hissing sound... and a vaguely chemical smell.  She frowned.  The scent was by no means overpowering... not even close... but it was there... probably.  It might have been residual leather polish.  Also, for some reason, Brie suddenly felt relaxed... very relaxed... even... sleepy?  That was ridiculous.  It was morning,  Brie was never sleepy in the morning.  Brie was always a dynamo in the morning.  She thumbed the button that should have opened the side window (although the traffic fumes might have been worse than whatever was tainting the limo's air conditioning)... but nothing happened.  She tried again.  Still nothing.

Brie tried the intercom button next... but it didn't seem to be working either, and the chauffeur was concentrating on his driving.  Knocking on the glass partition was possible... but seemed like a lot of trouble... and would be rude.  Brie hated being rude.  As a director she always cultivated a friendly leadership style and a happy set.  Brie liked a happy set, whether she was directing or acting.  Also... when she lifted her right hand and made an actual try to form an actual fist and rap on the glass, she found it... difficult.  Her muscles were heavy and weak.  And what was the problem anyway?  She couldn't remember.  She couldn't concentrate.  She was too relaxed to concentrate.

The traffic was moving... and getting sparse... or as sparse as it ever got this time of day in Manhattan... if they were still in Manhattan.  Brie gazed out the limo's windows (in a dazed manner) and through the dark glass could see... very few pedestrians... and only a few trucks and vans.  No cabs.  They were whizzing through a dingy industrial neighborhood with dingy warehouses and shop-type buildings.

Odd place to hold a meeting, Brie mused, but wasn't really all that concerned.  She certainly wasn't alarmed.  It was far too nice of a day and she was way too relaxed to be alarmed.

And then, the limo pulled into an alley, continued for another quarter of a block... then did a right turn and passed through an open vehicle door and into a large space with concrete floor (badly in need of sweeping), walls, and ceiling.  Barred cloister windows with wire reinforced glass and dimly shining bulbs in dangling industrial fixtures provided arguably adequate light.  A rolling steel door rattled down behind the limo, the chauffeur turned off the engine and opened his door, and at the same time the door next to Brie flew open and a pair of brawny men dressed in black who were not the chauffeur dragged her out of the limo!  And they were wearing gas-masks!

"W-what—Mrrrf!"  A rubber ball had been crammed into Brie's mouth, a strap buckled at the nape of her neck under her hair, and a strip of off-white medical tape stretched, plastered, and smoothed by gloved hands over her mouth and lower face!  She'd been gagged!  At the same time, the brawny hulks were controlling her feeble struggles with trained skill, and all the while unbuttoning, unzipping, and removing her clothes... all of her clothes!  "Mrrrpfh!"  Brie was being stripped to the skin!

The air in the shop or warehouse was somewhat musty, but there was no chemical smell like there had been in the back of the limo... except for a slight trace of what might have been machine oil.  In any case, Brie was no longer dazed or relaxed, that was for sure!  In fact, she was increasingly alarmed and her strength was returning fast—not that it was doing her much good.  Her captors had wrenched her arms behind her back and—Vripp-vripp-vripp!—were tightening plasti-cuffs, the kind the police used, around her wrists, elbows, and thumbs; and now they were using more plasti-cuffs to bind her knees, ankles, and big-toes!  Vripp-vripp-vripp!

Brie's mind was now crystal clear, her green eyes wide above her combination tape and ball-gag, and she was terrified!  "Nrrrrrf!"  She squirmed and struggled but her captors' continuing controlling her naked, bound, and gagged body with depressing ease as one of their number used a compact pair of steel clippers to snip off the dangling and rattling free ends of the plasti-cuffs!  Also, the chauffeur (who Brie realized was now also wearing a gas-mask like the brawny kidnappers (meaning like the other brawny kidnappers) was rolling forward an industrial packing case on wheels!

The black-clad kidnappers deposited Brie on her side on the cold and gritty concrete floor.  She squirmed and fought her bonds and watched as one of the kidnappers opened the lid of the case while another pulled a syringe and a small glass vial from his pocket and prepared an injection—and Brie realized it was probably for her!

Brie continued struggling.  "Mrrrrrmf!"

The other kidnappers loomed over her and watching her squirm and tug on her bonds.  The kidnapper with the needle nodded, then they lifted Brie's naked, bound, gagged, and writhing form and deposited her inside the open case, folding her into a fetal tuck in the close space.

And then—"Nrrrm!"—Brie received the feared injection in the side of her neck, the lid was closed and latched—C-click!  C-click!—and all was black!

Brie continued struggling, even though she knew it was a useless waste of her strength, and mewled through her gag.  "Mrrrpfh!"  Her voice was well-muffled but quite loud in her own ears and inside the closed case.  She blinked in the darkness and fought to remain conscious... but knew she was losing the fight.  Brie now realized she'd been gassed in the back of the limo... obviously with something intended to make her docile, and it had worked!  And now, thanks to the injection in her neck, she'd been sedated with something more powerful... and she couldn't stay awake!

Finally... Brie closed her green eyes... stopped struggling... and slipped into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, outside the box, the kidnap-team had removed their gas-masks.  They'd been wearing them to hide their faces from their victim more than as protection from the gas the chauffeur had liberated in the back of the limo.  That had long since dissipated.  The chauffeur climbed behind the wheel of the limo, the door to the alley rattled open, and he backed out and drove away.  Less than a minute later... a nondescript white van with windowless side-panels pulled into the kidnapping scene and the packing case with its naked, bound, gagged, and sedated contents was loaded into the back, and the van immediately backed into the alley and drove away in the direction opposite that had been taken by the limo.  The door rolled down as the rest of the kidnappers dispersed to the four winds.

Jodi, Maggie, and Abby's "hogtie demonstration" lasted for a full hour... a full and well-past-overflowing hour for Poor Jodi.

The Intrepid Investigative Reporter had been the first of the three gingers to be tied... which, given the redundant nature of her white paracord bonds, had taken a while.  Then, Jodi had wiggled and watched as first Maggie and then Abby received their "double-cross" and "floppy-arm/leg" hogties, respectively. Their rigging operations had also been redundant and time-consuming, of course, which added substantially more wait-time to Jodi's ordeal.

It was only when all three gingers were hogtied that Peggy declared that the "Instructional Languishing Period" had officially begun; then everybody not naked, hogtied, and tape-gagged left the room.

Struggling happened.

Languishing happened.

Then, after the mandated hour had passed (and possibly a few extra minutes as well), Sloane (and only Sloane) reentered the sitting room and untied the victims—and, of course—the smiling ginger-mega-hottie decided the appropriate release protocol would be first-tied-last-untied, which meant when you add it all together Poor Jodi it was actually hogtied for something close to three hours before she found herself standing next to her fellow ginger prisoners.

Oh-by-the-way, all three of the captives—Jodi, Maggie, and Abby—were still naked, tape-gagged, wearing shock-collars, and their wrists had been crossed and paracord-bound behind their backs while they were being released from their respective hogties!  That is, they were in the same state they'd been in before the hogtie demo.  Jodi was not happy.  In her opinion Sloane was being a ginger-mega-hottie-bitch, and if she hadn't been tape-gagged she would have told her so, straight to her smiling, beautiful, freckled, gloating face!

Next, Sloane pulled a cellphone from her apron pocket and stepped a few paces away from her charges.

The naked, bound, and gagged gingers watched as the the wicked, decidedly inconsiderate, and not naked, bound, and gagged ginger placed a very brief and completely inaudible call.  Jodi, Maggie, and Abby hadn't been able to make out a single word.

Jodi eyed the possible exits from the sitting room.  There were three, the wide set of double doors the Gibsons had used, and two single doors, one of which Sloane had used.  Also, there were three naked, bound, and tape-gagged captives but only one maid/handler.  If they each took a different exit and padded for the hills, one of them might succeed in escaping from her bonds, finding something to wear, discovering a way out of the penthouse, summoning the police, and gloating in victory alongside the other two ginger former captives as the Gibsons and Sloane and the rest of their small army of highly trained and beautiful but despicable maids were perp-walked to a high-security prison.  And that included Ms. Pendergast!

Alas, it wasn't to happen.  Two maid reinforcements arrived almost immediately.   Jodi didn't recognize either of the newcomers... although she conceded they very well might have been members of Ms. Pendergast's kung-fu class back in the gym.  She wasn't at all sure.  Anyway, the newcomer-maids (both brunettes) took charge of the actresses.

Jodi and Sloane watched as Maggie and Abby were led away... but as Jodi was turning her head to glower at her ginger nemesis, Sloane grabbed a generous handful of her tousled red hair (she seemed to like doing that) and led (dragged) her away.  "Mrrrmpfh!"

Not surprisingly (to Jodi, anyway) their destination was her crappy motel-room-cell, which wasn't nearly as spacious or magnificent as the actresses' digs that so far Jodi had only seen on the voyeuristic reality-TV show she'd involuntarily watched on the panoramic screen of her computer back in said crappy motel-room-cell.

Anyway, they arrived at Jodi's bedroom, and, with Jodi standing just across the threshold, Sloane deftly untied her wrists, then shoved her into the room and slammed the door behind her!  Wham!  Jodi spun on her bare heels, ripped the tape from her lips—Ow!—and glared at the closed door.  Jodi was now naked (except for the inactive shock-collar/choker still locked around her neck), completely unbound, supremely pissed off, and her glorious ginger hair was a tousled mess!  However, Jodi didn't throw another pointless tirade because it would have been... pointless... like last time.

Jodi glared at the door for several more seconds... then stomped (padded) into the bathroom alcove, drank a glass of water (meaning an unbreakable acrylic glass of water), then took a hot shower.  It would aid the already rapid fading of the paracord-marks dimpling her fair, smooth, flawless, peachy-pink skin (which had none of the ugly freckles afflicting that ugly ginger-mega-hottie-bitch Sloane).

When Jodi returned to the main bedroom she found a lunch tray had magically appeared during her absence.  She flopped into the straight chair in front of the small café table and wolfed down the food, not really noticing what she was eating.  Jodi was tired and needed a nap.  The last of the delicious but forgettable meal consumed, Jodi stood, stretched, padded to the bed, slid between the sheets, and closed her green eyes.

Zzzzzzzz...

Huh?  Jodi's green eyes popped open and she blinked several times.  Some sort of melodious but irritatingly insistent tune and/or alarm was sounding.  She sat up in bed, combed the tangle of ginger curls from her face with her fingers, and looked around.  The panoramic monitor of her computer was alive with amorphous blobs of multi-colored light flashing, churning, and pulsing on the screen.

"Alright already!" Jodi complained, slid from between the sheets, stood, and stomped (padded) to the desk.  She hit the space-bar on the ergonomic keyboard and, as she'd hoped, the "music" stopped, the screen cleared, and in place of the lights a simple text message announced that an "Important Program" was about to air, and beneath it was a digital countdown in minutes and seconds.

Jodi frowned.  She had time, plenty of time, to pad to the bathroom, splash water on her face, pat it dry, brush her hair, drink another glass of water, and make it back to the comfort of the office chair in front of the desk with plenty of time to spare... meaning several seconds.  The timer on the display reached zero, the screen cleared, and an array of multiple windows popped open, each depicting a different view of some sort of... conference room?  Yes, Jodi decided, it was a conference room.

There was a large, rectangular, glass-topped table surrounded by well-padded chairs, a typical corporate boardroom arrangement.  Five women were present.  Three were on one side of the table and were fully clothed—and the two opposite were naked and tied to their chairs!

The side-by-side pair of prisoners were gingers (like Jodi), and therefore constituted even more evidence that the Gibson Gazillionaires were out of control serial ginger-nappers!  They were naked (as previously mentioned and also like Jodi) their arms were behind their backs (and the chair-backs), their legs together, and they were tied from their big-toes to their shoulders with some kind of white (probably nylon) rope that was about three times the width of the white paracord that had been used for this morning's hogtie demonstration.  The various camera angles revealed the nature of their elaborate and well-cinched bondage, although from the waist down the glare of the overhead lights on the thick glass of the table interfered with Jodi's ability to catalog the fine details of the ginger conferees' rope bonds.  Anyway, the naked gingers were both  tied up and tied to their chairs, tightly enough that the ropes dimpled the chairs' padding.  Finally, the captives' heads were lowered and their faces obscured by their copper-red locks.  They might be... asleep? ...unconscious?  Jodi couldn't be sure.

The trio sitting across the table from the ginger prisoners, were—big surprise—the Gibson Gazillionaires and Lisa Packshaw.  They were sporting their usual custom-tailored, designer label, expensive business ensembles (obscenely expensive in the case of the mother and daughter), and were very much not naked, tied up and/or tied to their chairs.

"Let's begin," Peggy said, then nodded to Bethany.  Her daughter picked up a small touchscreen remote from the table, pointed it towards the ginger prisoners, and gave it a tap.

The naked and chair-tied captives flinched, then squirmed in their chairs, weakly tested their bonds, lifted their heads, and shook the copper-red hair from their faces.

Back in her bedroom, Jodi's green eyes popped to their maximum width in complete astonishment!  "What the hell!" she gasped.  Jodi instantly recognized both prisoners, despite the strips of Elastoplast/Microfoam tape covering their lower faces and sealing their lips!

The details of Maggie and Abby's return to their shared bedroom were similar to Jodi's (only without the petulant melodrama).  Naked and unbound (except for their still inactive shock-collars) the ginger actresses turned from staring (sadly) at the closed and locked bedroom door—Abby had actually rattled the doorknob to confirm that it was locked—then turned and immediately noticed there'd been a significant change in the decor of the bedroom during their absence: the two full-size beds they'd been using since becoming involuntary roomies were gone and had been replaced by a single gigantic bed.  It was at least "king-size," and possibly even larger.  The rest of the bedroom furniture was still present, but had been shuffled around to optimize the new arrangement.  Also, the flowers in the vase on the little table near the window had been changed.

"I guess we're sharing a bed," Maggie said, then focused on her fellow thespian and smiled her dimpled smile.  "Good thing I don't hate you."

"Yeah," Abby sighed, her green eyes focused on the new bed, "good thing."  She smiled.  "First dibs on the shower!" she announced as she scampered towards the bathroom.

"You don't want to share?" Maggie sighed in mock disappointment.

"Shut up!" Abby chuckled as she disappeared through the bathroom door.

Maggie giggled and padded after her fellow kidnap-victim/Gibson-employee..  The sound of running water started when she was halfway there.

Both incarcerated thespians made full use of the bathroom (serially and one amenity at a time), then returned to the main bedroom and discovered that during their absence lunch had been delivered by their room-service/jailers.  They consumed delicious salads, munched on tasty bread-sticks, and sipped delicious iced tea.

Next, they tested the new bed.  As had been the case with Jodi, they were tired from the hogtie demo and without consultation had independently decided on taking restorative naps.  They slid between the sheets... then Abby leaned close and whispered in Maggie's ear.

"This is nuts!"

"Bonkers," Maggie whispered back, "but what if it's all true?  What if we are in on the creation of a multi-billion dollar industry nexus that will eventually involve dozens of movie and TV deals?"

"Yeah," Abby sighed.  "What if?"

Maggie leaned even closer.  "If you think of a way to escape, let me know."

"I will," Abby promised, "and the same goes for you."

Maggie nodded, and with that they snuggled into the bedding (side-by-side but several inches apart), closed their green eyes (all four of them), and went to sleep.

Zzzzzzzz...

Sometime later a melodious and mildly obnoxious electronic ditty started wafting through the bedroom.  "...♪♫♪♪♫♪♫♫♪♪♪♪♫♪♪♫♪♫♫♪♪♪..."  Maggie and Abby snapped awake, sat up, and exchanged appropriately irritated pouting frowns.

Clearly visible across the foot of their gigantic new bed (which was very comfortable, by the way), the Impressionists' Greatest Hits screensaver on the colossal wall-mounted TV had been replaced by a text message.  Apparently, an "Important Program" was about to happen, and an active digital timer calibrated in minutes and seconds suggested it was going to happen quite soon.  After several seconds the "music" stopped, but the message remained and the timer continued ticking down.

"First dibs on the toilet!" Maggie announced as she scampered for the bathroom.

Abby was right behind her.  "Be quick!" she admonished.

They were both quick.  Bladders empty, thirst satisfied, faces splashed and patted dry, and their hair having benefited from quick brushings... the naked gingers returned to the bed, piled pillows against the headboard, and side-by-side settled in to wait for the start of the promised Important Program.  Why not?  They weren't really tired anymore, had nothing better to do, and maybe the Program would be "Important."

Finally—"00 min: 00 sec"—the text message disappeared and was replaced by a grid of several windows affording multiple views of a posh conference room.  Based on the general decor it might be somewhere in the penthouse, an impression reinforced by the presence of Peggy and Bethany Gibson and Lisa Packshaw.  They were on one side of the glass table, sitting side-by-side in what looked like comfortable padded chairs... and directly opposite sat a pair of redheads.  Peggy, Bethany, and Lisa were fully dressed... while the unknown redheads were very much not.

Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly, given recent events—the naked redheads were tied to their chairs with multiple well-rigged bands of white rope.  Their heads were down with their long(ish) copper-red hair draped across their faces.  Hence their unknown status.  They appeared to be asleep.

"They're tied up," Maggie noted.

"Ya think?" Abby huffed, then nudged Maggie with her shoulder.  "Sorry."

"No problem," Maggie responded.  They were both still staring at the screen.

"Let's begin," Peggy announced, then nodded to her daughter. 

Bethany picked up a small touchscreen remote from the table, pointed it towards the prisoners, and gave it a tap.

The ginger captives flinched, then squirmed in their bonds, lifted their heads, and shook the hair from their faces.

Back in the bedroom, Maggie and Abby gasped and bolted upright, their green eyes blinking in amazement.

"It can't be!" Maggie gasped.

"It is!" Abby responded.

Brie Aspen Grant snapped awake!  "Mrrr!"  She'd been jolted by a mildly irritating electric shock, directly across her throat!  She was naked and tied up and sitting in some sort of padded chair!  Her hair was across her face and she couldn't see much of anything.  She remembered being kidnapped back in that industrial shop or garage or whatever the hell it had been, but now her bonds were rope and not plastic.  Also, she was gagged with tape only... not a ball and tape combination.  She lifted her chin, shook the curtain of ginger curls from her tape-gagged face—and her eyes popped wide!

Sitting next to her was Judith Lavigne!  She was naked (like Brie)—tied to her chair with a matrix of white rope (like Brie)—gagged with a strip of medical tape (like Brie)—and was staring back!

"Mrrrpf!" Brie mewled through her tape-gag.

"Mmmf!" Judith mewled back.

Brie had met Judith (briefly) on... two different occasions?  At least two different occasions, both random encounters at award shows, but she certainly recognized her (even with the tape-gag)!  They'd never worked together, and although technically they were competitors there was nothing even remotely resembling animus between them.  There was plenty of room in the movie industry for talented actresses with glorious red hair.

In point of fact, and despite their minimal direct contact, Brie and Judith had something of a unique relationship.  Often (with depressing regularity, in fact) during fan encounters there was a statistically significant chance they'd be enthusiastically congratulated on each others' movie roles!  Apparently, a certain segment of the public couldn't tell them apart!  It was an actual internet meme and always got a good laugh during interviews and on late night talk shows.  Anyway...

"Nrrrfh!"

"Mrrrp!"

"Welcome, ladies," an arguably sexy alto voice stated.

Green eyes wide, Brie and Judith focused on the trio of fully-clothed and not naked, bound, and tape-gagged women sitting across the conference room table.  All three were expensively and attractively dressed for business, two of them were brunettes, one was a fellow ginger, and the ginger was Lisa Packshaw!  And to reiterate, Lisa was not naked, bound, and gagged!  Also, she was smiling!

"Mmpfh!"

"Mrmrrf!"

"I'm Peggy Gibson," the 50-something, beautiful speaker said, "and this is my daughter Bethany."  She gracefully gestured to the 30-something and equally beautiful brunette on her left... then gestured to the right.  "You both know Lisa, of course."

Lisa continued smiling.

Brie and Judith wiggled, squirmed, fought their inescapable bonds, and blinked at Lisa.

"We have an exciting opportunity we'd like to discuss with you," Peggy continued.