| by Van ©2017
Dr. B and Suki
led the naked, bound, and gagged Opal from the tearoom to the
very end of the central hallway. Opal only got a quick
glimpse of Erin, Scout, and Daphne as they passed the yoga
studio. Her friends' helpless, dangling conditions were
unchanged, which was hardly surprising.
It was a straight shot of more than 100 feet from the front desk
to the very back of the service area. Dr. B pointed to the
hard vinyl-covered floor. "Down," she ordered.
"I assume you mean Miss Hanover," Suki said, nodding her hooded
head towards Opal.
"Yes," Dr. B drawled, "I mean Miss Hanover. Down," she
Opal dropped to her knees, then awkwardly flopped the rest of
the way to the floor.
Suki knelt at her side, opened the duffel, pulled out a coil of
rope. She'd already tied the elaborate web of ropes
binding Opal's upper body (including her crotch), and now, over
the next several minutes, she set about crafting an equally
elaborate frog-tie, bending Opal's legs at the knees and binding
each lower leg to its respective upper leg. She used the
ladder-tie running-hitch technique, looping and tightening
doubled rope strands around Opal's shins and thighs every few
inches from her knees to her ankles, each time cinching the
ropes between her calves and thighs.
Opal was now in an elaborate box-tie with her wrists crossed,
raised, and tied behind her back and against her spine, and
a frog-tie that more-or-less converted her legs into
semi-useless stumps. And now, Suki enhanced the naked
blonde's predicament into something of a hogtie by binding her
big toes together, then looping the free ends of the toe-rope
through the knotted ropes cleaving Opal's crotch. She
cinched the final knot, then climbed to her feet, stood beside
Dr. B, and took her hand. They watched Opal squirm,
wiggle, and explore her new bonds.
Opal had long since satisfied herself that she wasn't going to
escape from the box-tie (with crotch-rope), and that would be
true even if her hands and fingers weren't cocooned in
tight, multiple layers of white tape, which they were.
Reaching, much less untying the key knots of the ropes binding
her legs and toes was even more of an
impossibility. Also, the super-absorbent towel rolled
around a cable-tie and wedged in her mouth prevented her from
complaining about her condition—not with any degree of
Opal continued squirming and struggling... and Dr. B and Suki
continued enjoying the show... for about three minutes.
Finally, the utterly helpless blonde heaved a gagged sigh,
rested her gagged head on the vinyl floor, and stopped her
futile escape efforts.
Dr. B released Suki's hand and cleared her throat.
"Ahem. Now, congratulations Miss Hanover, you're going to
be the one to save the day. All you need to do is—"
"Hey!" Suki interrupted. "My plan. My execution (so
to speak). My gloating-slash-exposition scene."
"Oh, forgive me, darling," Dr. B chuckled. "You're
entirely correct, of course."
"Of course," Suki huffed, then cleared her throat.
"Ahem. Now, Miss Hanover," she continued, "you're
going to be the one to save the day." Suki sat on the
floor and crossed her legs in a half-lotus. "And it'll be
simple. All you have to do is wiggle all the way
down the hall to the front entrance."
Opal locked eyes with the short kidnapper. What?
Tied like this?
"Now," Suki continued, "we gave you a good look at your
friends—the three kids in the yoga studio and the two
old ladies in the tearoom—so at this point you shouldn't be
tempted to take side trips to try and free them, now that you
know it'd be completely wasted effort."
"Phones," Dr. B said.
"Oh, that's right," Suki giggled. "We pulled the plugs on
all the telephones and computers, and all your cell phones are
in your purses or jackets in the laundry hamper in the locker
room where you can't get at them, so... no dialing
nine-one-one or sending frantic e-mails, no levitating up to the
rafters and untying key knots, and no magically slicing through
ropes or layers of plastic."
"The alarm," Dr. B added.
"Do. You. Mind?" Suki growled at her boss
and lover, then turned back to Opal.
"The alarm," Suki continued. "We're going to make a final
cleanup sweep, then reset the alarm system as we make our final
exit." She pointed to the entrance of the storeroom and
its door to the back alley. "The back door has a contact
alarm, a very solid deadbolt, and two heavy throw-bolts
at the top and bottom, so it'll do you no good to try and wiggle
that way and escape down the alley." Suki pointed down the
hallway to the front. "On the other hand, the entryway has
a motion detector. If you wiggle all the
way down the hallway and around the front desk, you should
trigger the silent alarm. That said, the detector is up
near the ceiling and focused on the front doors and I don't know
how close to the floor the field extends. So, just to be
sure you trigger the alarm, I suggest that once you get out
there you slither to the doors and squirm up the glass
and onto your knees, if you can do it. I'm sure that
will interrupt the field. But remember, it's a silent
alarm, so you won't know when or if you've succeeded.
You'll have to hang in there and keep trying. Anyway, the
cops should arrive... eventually" Suki leaned
forward and patted Opal on the head. "I know it's gonna be
tough, kiddo, but you can do it." She climbed to her
feet. "Look on the bright side. You'll be a hero."
Opal stared up at her kidnappers and squirmed in her incredible
bonds. All the way to the front? Impossible!
Actually, she knew it would only be incredibly
difficult. She was in tiptop shape and not totally
immobilized by her bonds. She could wiggle,
squirm, perhaps roll, and eventually reach the entryway.
It would take a great deal of effort and would be unpleasant,
but she knew she could do it. She had to do
it. She had to save the others... and herself.
"Well," Suki said, "it's been a real pleasure being your
kidnapper today. Good luck! But don't start
squirming just yet. I'll be back soon."
Opal watched as the kidnappers strolled away down the
hall. She squirmed in her bonds as the black-clad and
hooded duo dwindled into the distance. One made a side
trip into the yoga studio from which Scout, Erin, and Daphne
dangled from the rafters... then rejoined her nefarious
companion with a second duffel bag. They continued to the
entrance to the tearoom... then the short kidnapper reemerged,
and strolled back down the hallway in Opal's direction, now
carrying a cardboard box. As she got closer, Opal could
see "Pompeian Extra Virgin Olive Oil" printed on the box.
Suki reached into the box and lifted out a 32-ounce bottle of
olive oil. She'd already removed the cap. She'd
removed the caps of all the bottles. About three feet from
Opal she began emptying the bottle onto the vinyl floor,
stepping back as the oil splattered on the floor in a zigzag
pattern. "Okay," she said as she returned the now empty
bottle to the box and pulled out a second, "feel free to start
squirming. We'll be out of your way shortly." She
resumed slowly stepping back and emptied the second bottle.
Opal watched as the evil monster backed down the hall, emptying
bottle after bottle. The oil formed a slowly spreading
sinusoidal slick on the hard, smooth floor. Coverage
wasn't total, but there was no clear path that would allow Opal
to avoid the slippery, ever-growing mess. Bitch!
Opal very much doubted the lubrication afforded by the oil would
help her squirm to her goal. If anything, it would impede
Now at the far end of the hall, the short kidnapper set the box
inside the entrance of the tearoom, joined her taller companion,
and they stepped around the front desk. The desk now
partially obstructed Opal's view of the distant kidnappers, but
she could tell they were donning lightweight coats of some sort,
probably to disguise their black outfits. They then
removing their hoods, turned them inside out, rolled them up,
then placed them back on their heads, now in the form of
stocking caps. The tall kidnapper had a tan coat, red cap,
and blond hair, and the short kidnapper a brown coat, blue cap,
and brown hair, but the distance was far too great for Opal to
make out their features or any other details. The villains
exited the front doors... and that was that.
Opal continued staring down the hallway to the front desk and
the entryway beyond, then heaved another gagged sigh.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She started
the long, slow journey across the hard, oily floor to the front
As part of her
mission planning Suki had mapped all the surveillance cameras
that focused on the streets surrounding the Harper-Ricci
Day-Spa & Tearoom and found routes that allowed them
to make their departure without leaving an electronic
trail. It was now late afternoon and the start of the
evening rush hour. Suki and Dr. B were just two among the
growing number of pedestrians striding down the sidewalks.
They made a turn... walked another block... and made another
Finally, Dr. B spoke. "Well done... partner."
"Ohhh," Suki sighed. "You would say that when
we're in public and in the middle of the mission
withdrawal phase so I can't squeal and jump yer bones."
"Well then, minion," Dr. B chuckled, "never mind."
"Oh, I mind," Suki giggled. "I'll jump yer bones
"Not if I jump yours first." Br. B leaned close and
planted a kiss Suki's cheek.
"Stop it," Suki huffed (and blushed), then indicated a small
cafe with a flip of the wrist. "Coffee?"
"I could use a cup," Dr. B purred.
They entered the cafe and took seats at a table in the back
(with a view of the front door and close to the kitchen and its
door to the alley). They set their duffel bags on the
floor beside their chairs. Actually, the cafe was a
pre-planned pause-point on this particular withdrawal
route. The waitress took their orders—coffee for Dr. B and
coffee and a slice of cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice
cream for Suki—then left. There was an elderly gentlemen
at a table near the window enjoying an early dinner and a pair
of middle-aged women chatting over coffee. Otherwise, they
had the place to themselves. It was still a little early
"Pie?" Dr. B purred.
Suki shrugged. "Villainy makes me hungry." She
unzipped a side pocket of her duffel, produced an iPad, folded
back its black leather case, and turned it on. She tapped
and slid her finger across the screen a few times, then placed
it on the table where Dr. B could also see the image on the
"Oh... poor thing," Dr. B sighed.
"She's so beautiful like that," Suki said quietly, almost reverently.
On the screen was real time video of Opal Hanover, naked,
box-tied, frog-tied, hogtied, gagged, and struggling to make
progress down the the entire length of the Harper-Ricci Day
Spa & Tearoom hallway to the front doors across
the oil-coated vinyl floor. It turned out squirming in
extra-virgin olive oil didn't make it easier to wiggle
and inchworm her way along. In fact, the lubrication was
making the process more difficult. Opal's tan body
became increasingly slick with oil as she struggled, twisted,
fought her way forward, and continued her rope-impeded journey.
Dr. B and Suki continued watching. They blanked the screen
as the waitress arrived with their order... then resumed
watching after she left.
Opal continued making progress down the glistening hallway...
but it was slow progress. Very slow progress.
They'd told Opal they'd pulled the cords of the spa's computers,
but that wasn't quite true. They'd left the WiFi server
and the desktop computer that served as the Harper-Ricci network
hub plugged in and turned on. They'd also deployed four
wireless video cameras, hiding them up in the rafters.
Camera number one focused on the three dangling damsels in the
yoga studio: Erin, Scout, and Daphne. Camera number two
focused on Kate and Leah in the tearoom. Camera number
three looked down the hallway, providing a view of Opal's naked,
bound, gagged, and slowly diminishing form. Finally,
camera number four focused on the entryway, patiently waiting
for Opal to arrive at the glass doors.
Suki had taken full precautions. The cameras were all
expendable and had never been handled with bare hands. The
video feeds from the server streamed to the cloud, and Suki had
left behind a software worm that on her command would repeatedly
erase, overwrite, erase, and overwrite the hard drive,
obliterating all routing information and anything else that
could conceivably lead the authorities back to one or more of
Dr. B's many geographically distributed computer systems.
Dr. B and Suki sipped their coffee... Suki ate her pie and ice
cream... and they watched the show.
getting the hang of it. She found a zigzagging inchworm
technique that allowed her to slide across the smooth, hard,
vinyl floor at a respectable rate—if one could call a half-inch
to an inch of forward progress per contortion as
respectable. Heaving herself onto her side and rolling all
the way over produced more of a gain, but at the price of the
tight ropes punishing her toes and crotch. She did it
every now and then anyway, but mostly it was endless repetitions
of the inchworm wiggle.
Opal passed the locker room entrance... followed by the yoga
studio with her dangling colleagues: Erin, Scout, and
Daphne. She paused to pant through her nostrils and gag
and share a commiserating look with her friends across the
length of the studio... then continued her excruciatingly slow
Eventually... she reached the entrance to the tearoom and paused
again to gaze at Kate and Leah, the remaining two bound and
gagged captives. This time, neither the plastic-wrapped
Kate nor the rope-bound Leah turned their heads to gaze back at
her. Opal knew that was probably impossible for Kate,
thanks to the bands of plastic and clear tape crossing her
forehead and tape-gagged mouth and pinning her head against the
yoga-board. And as for Leah, at the very least it would be
difficult to turn her head, thanks to the taut ropes loosely
looped around her neck, tied to the back of her upper body bonds
and around her gathered hair, then passed up and over the rafter
directly overhead. In any case, by all appearances Opal's
bosses were unaware of her presence in the hallway.
Opal heaved a gagged sigh... and continued squirming and
wiggling her way forward.
The entryway was slowly, steadily getting closer. Soon
(meaning after additional Herculean effort) all she had to do
was negotiate the turn around the counter-like front desk and
cross the entryway itself. The problem was... Opal was
exhausted. She rested the side of her gagged face against
the oil-slick floor and took a breather.
Her kidnappers had promised they'd reset the alarm system as
they departed. That would be Opal's chance to summon
help. All she had to do was trip the motion detector and
trigger the silent alarm—but what if they'd lied? What if
the alarms system wasn't armed. Opal would have
made the long, exhausting, agonizing slow journey across the
entire length of the building for nothing. Well, not
quite nothing, Opal thought. The front doors were
glass, so if—make that when—Opal finished her journey
and a passerby on the street happened to peer through the glass,
they'd see the spectacle of a naked, bound, and gagged Opal
Hanover. That someone would, of course, dial 911... and
they'd all be rescued.
She heaved another gagged sigh, then pressed forward (meaning
wiggled forward) to complete the home stretch of her oily
With flagging effort, Opal wiggled her glacially slow way around
the front desk. The front doors were closed, as expected,
but the steel security shutter beyond was rolled up. The
sun was setting and the entryway's overhead lights were off, but
she could see pedestrians passing on the sidewalk. None
seemed in any way interested in the closed and dark entrance of
the Harper-Ricci Day Spa & Tearoom.
Opal marshaled her remaining strength and surged forward.
If the motion detector triggered the silent alarm—which very
well might already have happened—there would be no audible
signal, flashing light, or any other sign, whether the system
was armed or not. And there was still the backup
plan. If one of the passing pedestrians noticed her
squirming, naked, bound, and gagged body, all the better, but
she hadn't seen any reactions yet.
Seconds passed... Opal continued squirming forward... then
finally touched the closed doors with her nose. She then
started struggling to wiggle her way up the glass.
This was for two reasons: (1) to make doubly sure she
interrupted the motion detector's sensor field (as the shorter
of the two kidnapping bitches had suggested) and; (2) to make
herself more visible from the street. It was a daunting
task. She repeatedly made a few inches of vertical
progress—punishing her toes and crotch as the ropes
tightened—then slid back down the glass to the floor. Once
again, the extra-virgin olive oil the short kidnapper had poured
on the hallway floor, some of which now glistened on Opal's tan,
naked body, was upping the degree of difficulty.
After five failed attempts, Opal rested her head on the floor...
then lifted her chin and gazed up at the door. Oily
smudges marred the glass, but otherwise nothing had changed...
and none of the men and women passing on the sidewalk beyond had
noticed her plight. Opal heaved another gagged-sigh and
tried again. This time the olive oil might actually be
helping a little. She'd managed to plant her weight on one
knee, pushed for all she was worth, and with her breasts
flattened against the glass, slid up the glass a few
inches. She shifted her weight to her other knee, tried
again, and slid even higher.
Suddenly, Opal heard a soprano scream through the glass.
She turned her face and found herself staring into the horrified
face of a young woman in a business suit. Nearby
pedestrians, male and female, young and old, were frozen in
place. They turned to stare at the young woman—then turned
to follow her gaze and stare at Opal! One of them, an
older gentleman, produced a cell phone and began placing a call.
Opal sighed in relief... and allowed herself to slide back down
the glass to the floor. It was done. They were going
to be rescued.
Still at the
cafe and sharing a table in the back, Dr. B and Suki were
watching the unfolding events on the iPad. Suki had long
since finished her cherry pie and ice cream, and now was
consuming a Reuben sandwich with a side of double-dipped fries,
bite by bite. Dr. B was picking at a Cobb salad.
The iPad's screen was now divided into four windows, allowing
Dr. B and Suki to see all four venues: the entryway, the
hallway, the tearoom, and the yoga studio.
A single police cruiser had arrived first... followed by
additional units, including a sergeant... then at least two sets
of EMTs. All six naked beauties were rescued, and none of
the cops tripped on the oil coating the hallway floor, although
one came close.
"I still think ya should have let me use the nipple-clamp
thingie," Suki huffed. "Why else cut little holes in the
plastic and expose Big Nose Kate's nipples?"
Dr. B smiled.
The "thingie" in question was an elaborate array of pulleys,
thin cords, and two sets of clover-clamps connected by thin
chains. Suki's brainstorm had been to place the clamps on
Kate and Leah's nipples and rig the pulleys and connecting
chains up to one of the rafters. The net effect would be
to make it even more imperative that Leah maintain an
upright posture and not move. Otherwise, the cord would
tighten—with a force multiplied by the pulleys—and both damsels'
nipples would be pinched.
"As I told you at the time," Dr. B purred, "there was always the
chance Miss Hanover wouldn't have the strength to complete the
journey to the entryway, which would mean we'd have to make an
anonymous phone call to get the damsels rescued. I don't
like making anonymous phone calls."
"I could have made the call," Suki pouted, then dipped a
fry in a puddle of ketchup and popped it into her mouth.
"Irrelevant," Dr. B purred. "Nipple-clamps would have been
mean. What we did was mean enough."
"Mean," Suki huffed. "Wouldn't wanna be mean."
"As for exposing Ms. Ricci's nipples," Dr. B continued.
"Why? For the same reason people climb mountains: because
"I don't climb mountains," Suki muttered.
"But you do pinch nipples," Dr. B chuckled. "We
made a deal. Either I let you rig your Rube-Goldberg
nipple thingie, or I let you oil the hallway floor."
"But not both," Suki huffed.
"But not both," Dr. B nodded, "and you made your choice."
"I like extra-virgin olive oil," Suki sighed. "With a
little chopped herbs and garlic it makes a great dip for bread."
"And a very good damsel slide," Dr. B chuckled.
"Big Nose looked good coated in oil," Suki sighed, referring to
the way she'd massaged Kat with oil before wrapping her in
plastic. "We should have coated all of them in
"Coulda, shoulda, woulda," Dr. B chuckled. "Don't start
crying over un-spilt olive oil and un-pinched nipples. It
was an excellent operation, and you've earned your promotion
from minion to co-villainess."
Suki grinned (and blushed). "Partner," she said, lifting
her coffee cup.
Dr. B lifted her cup and tapped Suki's cup. "Partner."
Meanwhile, on the iPad screen and a few blocks away, the
employees and owners of the Harper-Ricci Day Spa &
Tearoom were departing the establishment via ambulance,
covered by blankets and reclined on gurneys. Obviously
they were headed for the hospital. Detectives and
forensic-techs had arrived and were going over the scene of the
"I pity all of this gets charged to overhead," Dr. B noted.
"Being your own client can be expensive," Suki agreed,
then nodded at the iPad. "Time?"
"I think so," Dr. B agreed.
Suki picked up the iPad, tapped and swiped her way through
various apps and menus... then gave the screen a final tap.
Back at the spa, a program was triggered, the network computer's
hard drive spun, and Suki's worm began eating all trace of all
The iPad's screen went dark. The show was over.
ONE WEEK LATER
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
Special Agent, FBI
|Wants to catch
Dr. B & Suki
■ 5' 6"
Jordan Shaw returned to her office from a video conference with
the NYPD detectives tasked with investigating the bizarre in
situ kidnapping/assault/whatever-the-hell-it-was at the Harper-Ricci
Day Spa & Tearoom. She settled into her desk
chair and logged onto the FBI system. As promised, all the
digitized information gathered in the Harper-Ricci investigation
to date was waiting in her inbox. She opened the Computer
Forensics sub-folder and found the document that had been the
reason for the conference.
It was a printout of the compiled code from the home-board of
the homemade control box the perps had used to "entertain" Leah
Rockwell and Kate Ricci with vibrators, and a forensics tech at
One Police Plaza had discovered a string of characters hiding in
plain sight in the middle of an otherwise "random" block of text
The string read
Jordan glowered at the screen, her cheeks flushed and eyes
narrow. It wasn't much, not enough to waste the Behavioral
Science Unit's time on a formal consultation, but she recognized
the message for what it was, a taunt from "Doctor Bondage," the
serial kidnapper she'd been chasing for the last few years.
The Bureau had been slow (in Jordan's closely held opinion) to
recognize Dr. Bondage as a continuing criminal threat.
Only as links between a dozen international cases of kidnapping
and humiliation came to light did Assistant Director Scully
summon Jordan to her corner office and task her with bringing
Dr. Bondage and her Goth accomplice to justice..
The problem was, despite her best efforts, Jordan was making
zero progress towards that goal. Her diligent efforts had
confirmed the linkages between the various open cases,
international and domestic, but nothing constituting an actual
lead had emerged. And Jordan wasn't the only frustrated
law enforcement professional. She was now acquainted with
several investigators in Europe, Asia, South Africa, Australia,
and the Gulf States, all of whom were also tasked with chasing
their tails and trying to catch Dr. Bondage.
Zero progress, and therefore zero resources. Special Agent
Jordan Shaw was a task force of one with zero budget. She
was not alone in this situation. Most senior agents, even
up-and-comers like Jordan, found themselves tasked with
monitoring specific cold cases in their "spare time" and hoping
for a breakthrough. It wouldn't damage Jordan's reputation
if such a breakthrough never came, but it would definitely boost
her career if due diligence and hard work paid off and she did
the impossible, which in this case meant bringing Dr. Bondage
and her Goth sidekick to justice.
Just then, Jordan's system emitted a quiet bleep, the signal
that a priority e-mail had just dropped into her inbox.
She opened the message, read the contents, and her lips curled
in a smile. Her request for travel to NYC was
granted. That was quick, she mused. She
noted AD Scully's budget code in the accounting line. Dana
Scully had taken notice of the case, which wasn't
surprising. Prior to her promotion, Special Agent Scully
had carried a cross similar to the Dr. Bondage
investigation. In her case it was the so-called
"Bondarella" file. She'd since handed that particular
collection of dead ends off to Special Agent Gracie Hart, but
obviously Dana maintained an interest in any new kidnapping case
with gratuitous bondage elements suggesting a possible link to
either Dr. Bondage or Dana's personal nemesis, Bondarella.
Jordan picked up the phone and called the travel office.
She needed a seat on the evening Arcela Express. Her next
call would be to the New York Field Office, and the call after
that would be to let her husband know she'd be in the Big Apple
for at least a couple of days. She wouldn't be home to
tuck her daughter into bed and read her a story, but unexpected
and disappointing separations went with the job, and Jordan had
a serial kidnapper to catch.
|Fit 2B Tied
| Chapter 5