by Van © 2015
		Chapter 4

Breakfast was at a charming little restaurant about a block and a half from Bibliophile Books.  It wasn't exactly the store's staff haunt, but Finley and her employees were regular customers.  Finley ordered for them both: California Omelets (crumbled bacon, shredded jack cheese, diced tomatoes, diced onion, and sliced avocado), hash browns, white toast, and coffee.  Agatha would have preferred the English Muffin bread option, but she wasn't stupid enough to speak.  The food was delicious, but unfortunately, Agatha's meal came with a generous side-order of crow.  All she could do was sit there, eat (she was hungry), and listen in abject silence as Finley read her the riot act.

Between fork-loads of omelet, Finley emphasized her Deep Personal Disappointment at Agatha's betrayal of her privacy and her embarrassment at her childish shenanigans with Karli.

That last part was absurd (in Agatha's humble opinion) as her so-called "shenanigans with Karli" had been completely involuntary.  Also, what about Finley's shenanigans with Catherine?  Agatha wasn't about to bring any of that out into the open, of course.  She just took her medicine... and ate her omelet.

Thankfully, there was no discussion of terminating Agatha's employment (Thank God!) but her boss made it quite clear that every onerous and/or undesirable task that came up at the store from now until The End of Time would be Agatha's responsibility.  Also, if and when Catherine and/or Karli came into the store, Agatha was to drop whatever she was doing and wait on them personally, and she better do a good job!  Finally, Agatha was not to discuss anything that had happened at Sinister Stirling Mansion with anybody.  There hadn't previously been an Official Secrets Act/Total Nondisclosure paragraph in Agatha's employment contract, but there was now!  One word about the "book club" to anyone, and "bad things" would happen.  Finley wasn't specific, but Agatha got the point.

Agatha doubted she'd remain in Finley's personal doghouse until the nuclear furnace of the last star in the universe burned out and everything everywhere cooled to absolute zero, but she wasn't stupid enough to be anything but abject and contrite.  She kept her eyes on her plate, ate, and nodded at the appropriate times during the "conversation."  She also blushed.  Boy how she blushed.

Finally (Thank God!) the meal was over, Finley paid the bill, and they trooped to the store.

Agatha went about her duties, wondering if it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.  Her blouse was white and the fabric somewhat thin, but her complexion was naturally fair (when and where she wasn't blushing) so she thought she was probably okay.  She had found an opportunity to brush her hair in the staff bathroom right before the store opened.  She hadn't realized that her short, fine, brown locks had been something of a tousled mess at breakfast and all during the journey from Catherine's place.  She blamed Karli, of course.  The Shieldmaiden should have brushed her hair for her back in the bathroom, before presenting her to Catherine and Finley in the mansion's entryway... topless and bound... with spiky hair.

The mail arrived and included three boxes of new books and one of new comics, which Finley ordered Agatha to personally haul to the back, open, and check the contents against the enclosed invoices and the ordering records, and she was to "be quick about it and stop dawdling!"  Agatha liked receiving new comics.  She liked the smell of the ink and paper and enjoyed getting first crack at reading the latest issues, but this was different.  She was stuck in the back of the store processing newly arrived books and languishing in Finley's metaphorical doghouse.

"Well?" an all too familiar voice inquired.

Agatha paused in the act of using a box-cutter to slit the tape sealing the last of the boxes and frowned at Chibi, her BFF.  She waved the blade in Chibi's direction.  "Go away."  She then clicked the blade closed, placed it on the worktable, and began unloading the box.

"Don't be like that," Chibi giggled.  "Dish!"

"I've been ordered to keep silent," Agatha sighed.

"Oh, I see," Chibi said gravely.  She turned and made a show of peering into the store to make sure neither Finley, Edwina, nor any of their customers were anywhere near.  "The coast is clear," she whispered.  "Dish!"

"No!" Agatha huffed.  "I promised Finley.  Besides... not here."

Chibi's smile widened.  "You're coming to my place tonight for dinner."

Agatha heaved a sad sigh.  "I'm tired, and I'm gonna be exhausted by closing time.  All I'm gonna want is a hot shower and bed."

"My place," Chibi chuckled.  "Dinner.  That's an order."  And with that, she returned to the main store.

Agatha heaved another sigh.  "Everybody's giving me orders," she muttered to herself under her breath, then began verifying the titles and quantities of the books against the enclosed invoice.

Catherine had a small deck off what she called her back parlor.  It was big enough for a small barbeque grill, a table for four, a couple of lounge chairs, but not much else.  When you factor in flowerbeds of mostly perennials and flowering shrubs, the entire remaining yard wasn't much bigger, with less than 400 square-feet of manicured lawn.  Trees and a dense hedge provided privacy from the neighboring townhouses.

At the moment, Catherine was taking advantage of a short, carefully regulated interval of the two or three hours a day when direct sunlight graced the deck.  Totally nude, her body glistening with sunscreen, Catherine was reclined on her back on one of the lounge chairs.  Next to her on a side-table was a tall glass of lemonade (with ice and a slice of lemon) and her iPhone.

Out on the lawn, Karli was on her knees and busy weeding one of the flowerbeds.  Like her mistress, Karli was nude; however, she wasn't totally nude.  A steel collar was locked around her neck, her wrists were manacled about two feet apart, her ankles shackled and hobbled a similar two feet, and a vertical chain connected the collar to central rings in the wrist and ankle chains.  All elements of the restraints were stainless steel, polished chrome bright and with smooth edges.  Karli was also wearing a straw sunhat with a wide brim, leather work gloves, knee-pads, and sneakers.  Her toned, tan body glistened with sunscreen and sweat.  In fact, her body was dripping with sweat, including her face.

Just then, Catherine's iPhone sounded a melodic ringtone reminiscent of cathedral bells.  Catherine sat up and took a drink of lemonade, then reclined, again, and rolled onto her stomach.  At the same time, Karli heaved a long-suffering sigh, removed her gloves, stood, stretched to the extent her chains would allow, then clinked and clanked her way to the deck.  She anointed her hands with sunscreen, then began massaging it into the tan, smooth skin of Catherine's shoulders... back... thighs... calves... and feet.  She eyed the lemonade on the side-table, but didn't presume to try sneaking a drink.  She didn't have permission.

"You're being horribly unfair," Karli muttered as she used a small towel to clean her hands.

"What's that, darling?" Catherine asked quietly.

"You're being unfair," Karli reiterated.  "You could tell just as well as I could that Munchkin wanted to play.  It was obvious."

"Yes," Catherine chuckled.  "The only one who didn't know was the Munchkin, herself.  I suppose I am being unfair."

"Grossly unfair," Karli huffed.

"Tell you what," Catherine said, "finish weeding that flowerbed, I'll finish my sunbath, and you can help me take my afternoon nap... down in the basement."

A happy smile curled Karli's lips.  "I can live with that," she purred, then left the deck and returned to the task at hand.

Bibliophile Books closed at the usual time.  Chibi waited for her BFF to finish dusting the shelves and sweeping the floor—a task that from now on would be Agatha's and Agatha's alone whenever she had the closing shift, either until hell froze over or Finley forgave her for being a nosy-parker—then the friends made their way to Chibi's apartment.

"What's for dinner?" Agatha asked, suppressing a yawn.

"You are tired," Chibi chuckled.  "Dinner will be my world famous 'Chibi Chiba's Chunky Chili,' with fresh tortillas and lots of cerveza."

Agatha found the strength required to exhibit the appropriate enthusiasm.  "Yippee."  Actually, Chibi's chili was delicious.  She'd perfected a recipe that let her dump the ingredients into her mini crock pot in the morning so everything could simmer to perfection on "lo" and be ready when she got home.  Chibi bought her tortillas at a neighborhood bodega, as well as her "secret ingredients," various varieties of fresh and dried chilies.  Agatha had no idea if the resulting dish was "authentic," but it sure was good.

Chibi's apartment was one flight up, over a somewhat mediocre pizza restaurant, and had a spectacular view of the uninteresting façade of the building across the street.  In terms of decor, the adjectives plain, sparse, and spartan always came to Agatha's mind, also tasteful and pleasant.  It wasn't clear whether Ikea or the traditions of Japan held sway, but Agatha had always admired the lack of clutter and clash.

The aroma of the simmering chili filled the apartment, and Chibi and Agatha wasted little time with the final preparations.  Chibi fired up her stove top and prepared to toast tortillas on the largest burner while Agatha set the table.  Soon, the BFFs were enjoying heaping bowls of thick chili, bites of warm tortilla, and swigs of ice-cold Corona Light, straight from the bottle.

"Okay, dish," Chibi ordered between bites of chili.

"I love the way the chunks of beef just fall apart in your mouth," Agatha said.  "I suppose it's the low, slow heat that makes it so—"

"Agatha!" Chibi barked.  "Focus.  And dish."

Agatha affected what she liked to call "grin-smirk #3."  It was equal parts smugness and beguilement.  She took a swig of beer, then began telling the tale of Agatha Schmeling, Girl Detective and The Secret of Sinister Stirling Mansion.  Chibi already knew all the players involved, of course, so Agatha didn't have to dwell on Catherine or Karli's appearances—except when it came to Karli's breasts and flat tummy.  Chibi had never seen Karli-the-Shieldmaiden au naturel.  Agatha also dwelled on the various ways Karli had tied her up, and (presumably) that Catherine had tied up Finley.

"I think they're into bondage," Agatha said at the conclusion of her narrative.

"Obvi," Chibi chuckled, "but I don't know how much they're into Kinbaku.  From what you describe, the ties were pretty simple."

Agatha rolled her eyes and emptied her bottle of Corona Light, her second bottle of Corona Light.  She usually wasn't much of a drinker, but storytelling is thirsty work.  "I suppose you know all about Kimba... whatever you said."

"Kinbaku," Chibi corrected, "which means 'tight binding.'  The art form is Kinbaku-bi, 'the beauty of tight binding.'  My brothers found some books on the subject and used me as their practice dummy."

Agatha frowned.  "Art form?"

"You know the Japanese," Chibi chuckled.  "Anything worth doing is worth obsessing over."

"They tied you up?" Agatha sighed.  "That sounds mean."

Chibi smiled.  "Not to worry.  I got to practice on them, too.  None of us formally studied the art, but we got pretty good."  She gathered their bowls and plates and headed for the kitchen.  "I'll show you after I clean up."

Agatha blinked in surprise, then gathered the beer bottles and carried them to Chibi's glass recycling bin.  "Show me?"

"I usually get two meals out of one pot of chili," Chibi said as she loaded the dishwasher.  "You owe me a dinner."

"Okay," Agatha agreed, "but... show me?"

Chibi smiled at her BFF.  "I've got a few hundred yards of rope squirreled away around here someplace."

At about the same time Bibliophile Books was closing for the day...

---

The basement of Catherine's mansion was about what you'd expect.  The original construction had included a bulky coal furnace and heating ducts, so after the old system was removed and replaced there was plenty of headroom.  That said, the ceiling was nothing but exposed floor joists and load-carrying beams with the usual heating ducts, electrical runs, and plumbing lines tucked between.  The floor and walls were poured concrete.  Steel support columns distributed the weight of the house among themselves and the walls, but there was lots of floorspace.  Lighting was courtesy of several plain, rather industrial-looking fixtures dangling from the rafters.  There were the usual utilities: heat-pump, water heater, electrical panel, and municipal water and sewer tie-ins; as well as a deep-sink, washer, and dryer.

A total of five small windows set high in the walls were spaced around the room.  The glass panes were all painted with a frosting compound, for privacy's sake, the exterior window-wells were kept trash-free by plexiglass bubbles, and the interiors were protected by cast-iron anti-burglar bars solidly bolted into the framing.  Overkill?  Yes.

Opposite the stairs leading to and from the kitchen was a small alcove with concrete steps leading up to a steel bulkhead door.  The door was solidly bolted on the inside and secured with a high-security padlock.  In addition, a gate of iron bars closed across the basement side of the alcove and was also secured with a high-security padlock.  More overkill.

Clutter-wise, Catherine's basement was reasonably neat.  Steel shelving screened the laundry area and main stairs.  The usual boxes and plastic bins full of seasonal decorations and junk too "valuable" to discard were neatly arranged on the shelves, and immediately behind the shelves black canvas privacy curtains were suspended from a horizontal steel cable.  Beyond the shelves and curtains was a large open area, two-thirds of the basement, in fact.  Along the walls of this impromptu space were three of the basement's five windows, the bulkhead door alcove, and a pair of old, mismatched wooden cabinets.

Centered in the space was a table, but the residents of Sinister Stirling Mansion referred to it as the table.

The table in question was about thirty inches in height, two feet wide, and seven feet long.  It was entirely of thick hardwood timbers, constructed with well-braced, compound joinery and heavy, countersunk bolts.  A full-grown elephant could have used it for a bench without causing damage.  All of the table's edges were rounded and its surface sanded smooth.  It was a fine piece of carpentry, but with a rustic, utilitarian look.  There was one unusual detail: steel pad-eyes with dangling steel rings were solidly bolted to all four edges and spaced every few inches apart, below the level of the tabletop.  Obviously, they were lashing points for securing things to the table.  The uninitiated might still believe they were looking at some sort of work table, but in point of fact, "the table" was a highly functional and well-designed bondage table.

At the moment, the table was serving its intended purpose as well as being the site of Catherine's "afternoon nap."  Still naked from her sunbath, her tan skin glistening with a slight patina of sunscreen and sweat, the Mistress of the Mansion was flat on her back with her arms at her side.  Her wrists were tied to her upper thighs, her lower and upper arms to her torso, and her legs tied together from thighs to ankles.  Catherine's bonds were comprised of quarter-inch white nylon rope, and were cinched between her limbs and body as well as lashing her to the table.  Her bonds were plentiful, neat, symmetrical, and tight enough to slightly dimple her smooth, coconut-scented skin.

Karli had been the rigger, of course, and had accomplished the task with her usual competence.  As a concession to comfort, she'd placed a small pillow under her beloved Mistress' head, and for security reasons, had plastered a strip of Elastoplast tape over Catherine's smiling lips.  They wouldn't want to disturb the neighbors, now would they?  Of course, down in the basement, Catherine could have screamed her head off for hours and the neighbors wouldn't hear a sound, unless they had their ears pressed against the window-well covers, but that was beside the point.  Any gag, even a single strip of tape, enhanced the experience.

Both Catherine and Karli had been known to take "afternoon naps" on the table, naked and lashed in place for their security and "comfort."  These naps were usually one or two hours in duration and often culminated with a transfer upstairs to one of the bedrooms and/or a little nookie in place.

Oh-by-the-way, Karli had tied Catherine to the table more than three hours ago.  Mistress' nap was now going on four hours.

Catherine squirmed and wiggled and did her absolute best to escape her tight, numerous, exquisitely well-crafted bonds.  Everything was well-cinched, the elements interlaced, and all knots several feet beyond the reach of her fluttering fingers.  All Catherine could manage was a tiny fraction of temporary slack here or there, but always at the expense of complementary increased tightness elsewhere.  She also tested her gag—"Mrrrrpfh!"—with predictable results.  She knew exactly what was going on.  Karli was in a snit, protesting her perceived mistreatment.  Of course, the delectable blonde had logged many long hours toiling away at her onerous domestic duties naked and in slave-chains, but restrained service wasn't the issue.  Catherine was being mean, so Karli was being mean.  That was half of it.  The other half was Karli topping from the bottom, manipulating and escalating the situation so when she finally did decide to release Catherine from the table, Mistress would have no choice but to retaliate.

Catherine realized she should have realized something was up when Karli acted like such a drama queen while binding her to the table.  "These chains are sooo heavy!"  "How am I supposed to get my work done?"  "I can barely reach far enough to tie your wrists to your thighs."  She'd really laid it on thick.  Catherine should have realized what was up... not that she could have done anything about it at the time.  Karli had been prudent enough to start her whining slave routine after she'd applied Catherine's tape-gag and tied enough rope to render her beloved Tyrant/Mistress helpless.

Catherine heaved a gagged sigh.  Just wait 'til Karli finally released her from her "nap."  The naked, chained, slightly sunburned blonde would rue the day she decided to torment and/or manipulate her beloved Mistress... again.

So... what to do?  And by that, Catherine meant what to do to Karli after her release.  In terms of Catherine's present predicament, wiggling and squirming were her only options.  But regarding her impending torture of Karli, Catherine had lots of options, and (apparently) plenty of time to think about them.  So...  Frustration or nonstop orgasms?  It's too soon to tell.  Überbondage?  Well... that sounds like a lot of work.  Überbondage was Catherine and Karli's name for using ridiculous amounts of rope to lash the subject-of-the-moment in a ridiculously contorted position.  After all, they didn't practice yoga for their health.

Actually, Catherine and Karli did practice yoga for their health, but flexibility was a useful side-benefit with respect to their "hobby."

Anyway, Catherine thought, tugging on her bonds, again, I'll think of something.

Meanwhile, back at Chibi Chiba's Chili-Parlor & Crash-Pad...

---

"Okay," Agatha said, "first of all, your chili was amaze-balls, as always."  She paused to take a sip from her third Corona Light of the evening.  "And second of all, you are not going to tie me up."

Having finished loading the dishwasher, turning it on, and wiping down the table with a damp rag, Chibi favored her BFF with her patented Pout of Profound Disappointment.  "Jeez," she sighed, "poop on the party much?"

"I was tied up last night," Agatha reminded her hostess and alleged Kinbaku semi-expert.

"Taped up," Chibi corrected.

"Whatever."

Chibi grinned.  "Aren't you just the least bit curious about the Beauty of Tight Binding?" she asked.

"Yes," Agatha answered after taking another swig of beer, "the least bit, as least a bit as you can get with there still being a measurable bit.  Maybe less.  In other words, no."

"I've got it," Chibi said as she joined her guest in the living room.  (Actually, Chibi's apartment was a studio, but there was a designated non-sleeping lounge area, complete with TV and futon.)  "We'll play Truth or Dare."

Agatha was dubious.  "Truth or Dare?"

"And to save time, we'll cut to the chase."  Chibi sat next to her BFF on the futon.  "I go first.  The question is... 'Are you curious about Kinbaku?'  The dare is I tie you up as a demonstration."  She climbed back to her feet and headed for the coat closet next to the front door.  "You refuse the question and accept the dare."  She opened the closet door and rummaged inside.

"Just like that?" Agatha said with a smirk.  "Why don't we play chess?  Don't bother setting up the board, of course.  Just assume you beat me in thirty-seven moves."

Chibi had produced a fourteen-gallon Rubbermaid plastic tote, removed the cover, and was pulling out coils of quarter-inch hemp rope.  Or maybe it was jute.  Agatha wasn't an expert in natural fibers.  "Chibi!" Agatha whined.  Apparently, the Kinbaku Express was leaving the station, she was already on board, and Chibi was the conductor.

Chibi was returning to the futon with a distressingly looong coil of rope in her hands.  "Okay," she said as she sat next to her guest/victim, released the coil and shook out the rope, then doubled it and found the center.  The apparently soft and flexible rope slithered through her hands with practiced familiarity.  "She-who-is-to-be-bound pays the proper respect to the Kinbaku master with a submissive bow, there is an interval of meditation and contemplation, yadda-yadda-yadda.  Take off your top."

Agatha's response was frantic blinking and an inquisitive squeak.  "What?!"

"You're supposed to be wearing a kimono," Chibi explained, "but I only own one and I don't want to mess it up."

Agatha blushed and protectively crossed her arms across her chest.  "I-I'm not wearing a bra!"

"And whose fault is that?" Chibi giggled.

"Karli," Agatha pouted.

Chibi rolled her eyes in mock disgust.  "Are you a domesticated ground-dwelling fowl of the order Gallinae?"

"I am not a chicken," Agatha huffed, then heaved a long-suffering sigh and began unbuttoning her blouse.  It wasn't like Chibi hadn't ever seen her boobs, or Agatha hadn't seen Chibi's boobs.  They were members of the same gym and it had a shower and a steam room.

"And speaking of kimonos..." Chibi purred.  With Agatha's passive cooperation, she tightened a doubled loop rope around Agatha's chest and under her arms, above the boobs in question.  She then yoked Agatha's shoulders, forming a figure-eight from armpit to armpit.  The strands met in a nexus more-or-less between Agatha's shoulder blades.  "This is a simple kimono-tie," Chibi explained.

The sensation of the rope strands tightening around her body, slithering through the nexus in the back, and especially Chibi's intimate adjustments as she reached around Agatha's body from behind to position the ropes was... interesting.  "Oh!" Agatha gasped.  Chibi had grabbed her hands, folded her arms behind her back and up, and was lashing her crossed wrists against the nexus.  "T-that's tight," Agatha sighed.

"But not too tight," Chibi noted.  "Your circulation will be just fine.  I can tell."

Agatha could feel her doing something with the remaining rope, wrapping it around and through the other bindings in some way.  Aside from neatness, which Agatha supposed was the point of that part of the exercise, it also served to tighten all the bindings.

"There," Chibi said, then rose to her feet, padded to the Rubbermaid tote, and returned with a second coil of rope.  "Kinbaku-bi values both symmetry and asymmetry, and most ties are decidedly elaborate and complex.  There are established forms, like the kimono, box, turtle, shrimp, and many others."

"Shrimp?" Agatha squeaked.  Chibi had doubled and found the center of the second coil, and now was threading it through her wrist bonds and the kimono-tie nexus.

"Hush," Chibi giggled.  "Don't interrupt teacher.  Anyway, there are established forms, and established variations of each form, but the artist is free to mix and match.  It's the beauty of the final composition that's important.  For example, I'm now going to expand the kimono-tie into a kimono-box-tie."

"A what?"

Chibi heaved a deep sigh and rolled her eyes.  "You are not going to let me tie you up in peace, are you?"  She reached into her hip pocket, pulled out a neatly folded white handkerchief, shook it out and formed a loose wad, then reached around and stuffed the wad into Agatha's unsuspecting mouth.

"Mrrrpfh!"

"I said hush," Chibi giggled, kept the hankie in place with her left hand, and used her right to pull a folded scarf from her other pocket.  She refolded it, first point to point, then into a bandage.  "And stop squirming," the grinning Kinbaku teacher added.

Agatha did not stop squirming, but she was unsuccessful in either wiggling out of her BFF's embrace or forcing the wad from her mouth.  Soon, Chibi was tying the now narrowly folded scarf as a cleave-gag, compressing and anchoring the hankie in Agatha's mouth.  She planned this, Agatha realized as Chibi cinched and knotted the scarf at the nape of her neck.  "Mrrrrrf!"

"Now," Chibi said, "where was I?  Oh yeah.  Kimono-box-tie."

Agatha heaved a dramatic and heartfelt sigh as Chibi tightened horizontal doubled bands of rope around her upper-arms and torso, passing above and below her breasts!  Her hostess/BFF/kidnapper-of-the-evening then passed the remaining rope over her left shoulder, down through the arm-pinning ropes and between her breasts, then up and back over her right shoulder, thus forming a "V" and pinching the horizontal ropes into an "X."  More wrapping and knot-tying ensued.

"All-rightie-then," Chibi giggled.  Agatha was more or less sitting in her lap.  She scissored her legs around Agatha's waist, then reached around her squirming body from either side and began unbuttoning Agatha's jeans.

"MRRRF!"

"Settle down," Chibi chuckled.  "We agreed to make this a sleepover, and you'll have to get rid of at least some of that beer at some point."

"Mrrrf?" Agatha inquired.  When did I agree to a sleepover? she thought.  I'm not that drunk.  In point of fact, given the adrenalin rush of being naked (and soon to be totally naked) and tied up by her BFF, Agatha was stone-cold-sober, with her heart beating like crazy and her rope-framed (and slightly squeezed) breasts heaving.  "Mrrrf!"

"I've been wanting to show you the ropes for a long time, Munchkin," Chibi giggled as she unzipped Agatha's jeans and eased them down her squirming guest's hips.

"Nrrr!"

"I'm sorry, Munchkin," Chibi cooed, "but you told me your new mistress, Karli, named you 'Munchkin,' and now you gotta live with it."

Karli is not my mistress, Agatha fumed as Chibi stood and pulled her jeans from her legs and feet.  She stared daggers (terrified daggers) at her hostess.  And neither are you!

"I'll put these in the hamper," Chibi said as she tossed Agatha's blouse and jeans towards her bathroom, "then I'll help you relieve yourself, we'll adjourn to the bed, and I'll show you my combination kikkou and ladder leg-bind."

Two nights in a row?  Agatha blinked in awestruck surprise.  I'm going to be naked, bound, and gagged two nights in a row?  And what's a 'kikkou?'

Hands on her denim-clad hips, Chibi smiled down at her naked, helpless, and soon to be even more helpless guest.  "Don't worry about work tomorrow.  I'll find something for you to wear.  We're both the same size."