by Van ©2015
		Chapter 5

Frankie awoke as Nurse Kim first unwound the bands of slightly sticky tape mummifying her lower face, then plucked the cloth stuffing from her mouth.  Kim then went to the foot of the bed and untied Frankie's ankles.  The drapes were open and Frankie could see a breathtaking vista of the snow covered mountains.  The position of the rising sun confirmed that it was morning.  Still only half awake, Frankie was led to the bathroom alcove.  She was encouraged to empty her bladder—that is, she was plunked down on the commode/bidet.

Frankie's mouth was rather dry from the gag stuffing and she hoped the washbasin/drinking fountain was next on the itinerary.  It was.  Once the bowl was flushed and her nether region rinsed by the bidet function, Kim helped her to the washbasin and Frankie drank from the stream of cool, clean water triggered by the foot pedal.

Finally awake and ready to face the day, Frankie was also ready to assert her authority as an investigative journalist.  "Look," she said, glowering at Kim, "you're going to be in a lot of trouble if you don't—Mrrrf!"

It was another ball-gag, this one with a steel ring protruding from the front of its mouth-plugging red rubber ball.  Frankie stomped her bare feet and continued complaining—"Nrrrrrm!"—as Kim buckled the ball-gag's strap at the nape of her neck, under her hair.  Next, Kim took a grip on Frankie's tousled locks and led her to a stretch of bare wall opposite the door.  Frankie had time to focus on a steel clip dangling from a ring set in the wall, and then—Click!—all she could stare at was the wall and the clip.  It now linked the ring in Frankie's gag to the ring in the wall.  She wasn't quite up on her toes, but her chin was raised, her boobs touched the cool wall, and her ability to do anything other that simply stand there was severely limited.

"I'm afraid you're last in line for Breakfast," Nurse Kim purred as she checked the knots of Frankie's box-tie, "but Nurse Clark will be along... eventually."

"Mrrrpfh'mrrn'pfff!"  In addition to her gagged tirade, Frankie considered trying to kick Kim where it would do the most good, but her position was unfavorable and Kim seemed to have already stepped back.  And then, Frankie heard the door open, close, and a key turn in the lock.  Too late, she thought, heaving a gagged sigh.  Maybe next time.

All Frankie could do was stand there.  Her rope box-tie was as inescapable as ever... and she was going nowhere.  Time passed as seconds became minutes.  The service in this place sucks, Frankie decided.

Most of an hour passed before Frankie heard the door being unlocked and opened, and true to Kim's word, it was Clarke, pushing a stainless steel cart with several dirty bowls, spoons and covers on its second shelf and a single covered bowl and spoon on the top shelf.  Frankie could see none of this at first, of course, but confirmed it all after Clark first tied her ankles together, then released the ball-to-the-wall clip and "helped" her hop to the bed.  So much for kicking somebody, Frankie fumed as Clark unbuckled and removed her gag.

The bowl contained oatmeal with raisins and cream.  It might have left the kitchen nice and hot, but by this time it was barely above room temperature.  Frankie glared at Clark as the grinning nurse delivered spoon after spoon of the warm mass to her pouting mouth.  Truth be told, it wasn't bad, as oatmeal went.  It had been sprinkled with a little brown sugar.  Frankie decided to wait until she'd emptied the bowl to try convincing Nurse Clark that she was her best chance to avoid spending the next few decades in prison if, and only if, she helped Frankie escape from Quaking Aspens.

"You're new to the daily routine," Clarke said as she delivered the last spoonful to Frankie's mouth, "so I'll explain the rules this one time."

Frankie chewed or masticated or did whatever it is you do with soggy oatmeal, and listened.

"You will speak only when spoken to," Clark continued.  "No threats or begging or whining.  If Doctor Stanton asks you a question, you will answer.  If a nurse gives you an order, you will obey.  If not..."  Her smile turned sinister.  "We have established behavioral modification methods that are quite effective."

Frankie swallowed the last of her oatmeal and pondered a response as Clarke returned the spoon and now empty bowl to the cart.  Then, Kim breezed into the room with a tinkling mass of black leather, dangling straps, and steel buckles.

"Doc wants this one out of those ropes," Kim explained to Clark.

"She is due for a change-up," Clark nodded.

Frankie stared at the leather jumble.  "What's that?" she demanded.  "What are you gonna—Mrrrmpfh!"

Acting in concert and with practiced precision, Kim and Clark proceeded to force a rounded rubber plug into Frankie's mouth and secure the first of many attached leather straps designed to keep the plug in place.  A wide panel of soft leather soon covered Frankie's lower face as tightly as a hand-gag and narrow straps crisscrossed under her chin, traveled across her forehead, passed to either side of her nose, and anchored what was effectively a head-harness behind her head.  As the straps were tightened and buckled, the nurses had gathered Frankie's hair into a ponytail and passed it through a gap in the straps.  It cascaded down her back, held away from her gagged and angry face.

"Mrrrfh!"

Next, Kim and Clark forced Frankie to the floor and replaced her rope box-tie with a single-sleeve armbinder.  As always, Frankie's handlers knew what they were doing, and while her struggles were energetic and sincere, they did little to impede progress.  All too soon, the ropes were gone and Frankie's arms were behind her back, her hands were palm-to-palm, her elbows almost touched, and her arms were tightly sheathed from finger tips to just below her armpits.  The sleeve closed first by means of a double row of grommets and a long, thin lace, then with narrow straps encircling Frankie's wrists and her upper arms just above her elbows.  A pair of straps yoked her shoulders, crisscrossed over her chest, dove under her armpits, and buckled to the top of the sleeve.  Finally, a single horizontal strap passed through tabs in the top of the sleeve, passed around Frankie's torso, just under her breasts, and buckled in the back.  A steel ring dangled from the fingertip end of the sleeve, but was unattached to anything... for the moment.

Clark untied Frankie's ankles, the nurses helped her to her feet, and Frankie took that as her cue to throw a tantrum.  "Mrrrpfh!"  She mewled through her gag, twisted her body and fought the armbinder and its straps, and tried her best to kick Kim between her white stocking-clad legs.

"That will be enough of that, young lady," Clark scolded.  She embraced Frankie from behind and held her steady as Kim tightened a leather strap around her thighs, binding them together.  She finished by using a double-ended clip to join the back of the strap to the armbinder's terminal ring.  This enforced an erect posture, effectively hobbled Frankie's steps, and put an end to any more kicking.  However, that wasn't the end of the issue.

"You were told to be obedient," Clark said quietly, still embracing Frankie from behind.  Her smiling lips were only an inch from Frankie's left ear.

"Sometimes patient management requires a firm hand," Kim purred, reached up and cupped Frankie's breasts, then began massaging her nipples between her forefingers and thumbs.

"Nrrrm!"  Frankie tried squirming out of Clark's embrace, but it was impossible.  The thigh strap confirmed its effectiveness in limiting all resistance from the waist down to the shuffling of her bare feet.  "Mfff!"

Kim's smile was now truly evil, and Frankie's nipples were fully erect.  Kim reached into her pocket and—"NRRRF!"—a clamp of some sort closed on Frankie's left nipple!  Frankie shivered and moaned through her gag, then screamed, again—"MRRRK!"—when her right nipple met a similar fate.

The nurses released their patient and took a step back, and Frankie continued shivering and squirming in her bonds.  The clips were stainless steel alligator clamps with light, two-inch chains with terminal rings attached.  The rings and chains danced as Frankie continued to struggle.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...

Frankie continued rolling her shoulders and struggling, then gave up.  The chains swayed as she panted through her flaring nostrils and her breasts heaved.  The bite of the clamps had gone from bee-sting... to never-ending pinch... and was settling towards sunburn.  The damn things hurt!  She glared at Kim, continued panting through her gag, and endured.

Meanwhile, Clarke had knotted the end of a rope through the ring in the front of Frankie's plastic-covered steel collar, her "Patient ID" collar.

"Be a good girl and I'll take them off when we get to the Day Room," Kim chuckled.  "Be a really good girl and I'll warn you before I do it."

Frankie didn't know whether to throw a tizzy fit or simply stare daggers.  She was still undecided when Clark gave her rope leash a tug and stepped off.  Soon, they'd left Frankie's room and were strolling down the hall.  Actually, Frankie was mincing.  The thigh strap was hobbling her steps.  Kim brought up the rear.

The Day Room turned out to be a large open space with several groupings of comfortable easy chairs, sofas, loveseats, coffee tables, card tables, and straight chairs.  All were Institutional Modern in style, upholstered in earth-tone fabrics or constructed of laminated wood.  The floor was tiled in more of the ubiquitous linoleum.  A wall of windows admitted brilliant morning light and a breathtaking view of the mountains.  Also...

Frankie's eyes widened as she minced into the room.  Three naked women were present, and they were all bound and gagged!

First was "J," Frankie's brunette next door neighbor she had seen hogtied on her bed the previous evening.  J's arms were behind her back and her legs together, and a series of horizontal and vertical rope hitches bound her body from her shoulders to her big toes, rendering her completely helpless.  Her bonds were a unified whole, cinched between her limbs and body where possible, and pulled tight enough to dimple her firm, tan flesh.  Frankie assumed her wrists were lashed together, but J was sitting in a plush easy chair and her back and arms were buried in the cushions.  Also, she was lashed in place by additional rope.  Finally, her lower face was covered by a single taut, wide strip of medical tape.  The outline of the prisoner/patient's lips was clearly visible in three dimensions, and she stared back at Frankie with very pretty and unmistakably inquisitive brown eyes.  Her wavy brown tresses were loose about her shoulders, framing her tape-gagged face.

Next to J was a redhead, a flaming redhead, what some people call a "ginger."  She had freckles, a lot of freckles, on her face, shoulders, and the tops of her full breasts, but most of her smooth, firm, peach-pink skin was freckle-free.  The redhead herself, however, was anything but free.  She was tied to a straight-back chair with yard upon yard of rope.  Her wrists were lashed to the chair on either side, even with the chair's seat, her legs together, and a symmetrical web of rope bands bound her in place from ankles to shoulders.  The ropes were hitched between her limbs and the chair at regular intervals, and like J's bonds, dimpled her flesh.  Also like J, she was gagged, but not with tape.  A large wad of cotton gauze was stuffed in her mouth and multiple tight layers of thin cotton bandage cleaved her coral lips and white teeth and kept it there.  She stared at Frankie with gorgeous green eyes and also seemed curious.  Oh-by-the-way, a quick glance on Frankie's part at the patch of ginger curls between her legs confirmed that the captive was a natural redhead, not that there was ever any doubt.

The third captive was a blonde.  She was wearing a natural canvas straitjacket that forced her to hug herself in the traditional manner.  The jacket wasn't as tight fitting as the canvas and leather little number Frankie had worn earlier, but looked to be just as inescapable.  Secondary straps encircled her upper arms, pinning them against her sides, and another strap pinned her crossed arms against her waist.  Finally, the blonde's jacket had a crotch strap, rather than the thigh-straps of Frankie's jacket.  The tight strap was narrow enough to cleave the prisoner's pussy, but wide enough to hide about a third of her dark-blond, neatly trimmed pubic thatch.  Her legs were bound together with one continuous hitch of rope from her thighs to her ankles, cinched every few inches, and she was comfortably reclined at one end of a sofa.  A rope passing through the ring in her patient's ID collar, cinched through her leg bonds, and hitched around the sofa held her in place.  A ball-gag plugged her mouth, its strap buckled tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.

Clarke plunked Frankie down on the opposite end of the same sofa as the blonde, and she watched (they all watched) as Kim knelt and buckled a narrow strap around her ankles, a second strap around her feet, and a third strap around her big toes.  All three straps were linked, forming a... foot harness?  Frankie had no idea what to call the thing.  In any case, it certainly rendered her feet useless, just as the rope Clark was using to bind her to the sofa would keep her in her seat.

"This may sting a little," Kim said quietly.

What's she talking about? Frankie wondered, and then—Ow, ow, ow!—Kim's meaning became abundantly clear.  The nipple-clips hurt worse coming off than they had going on!  Frankie glared at Kim with watering eyes as the nurse pocketed the clips.

And with that, both nurses favored Frankie and the others with a gloating smile, turned, and left the Day Room.

Frankie watched the Sinister Nightingales depart, then regarded her fellow captives.  Well... this is awkward, she thought squirming in her bonds.  And just as she was examining J, the redhead, and the blonde, they were examining her.  Frankie felt a blush color her cheeks.  Of course, her cheeks were probably already flushed by the pressure of the gag's mouth panel, but she was embarrassed by her fellow captives' attention, nonetheless.

To Frankie, three things were certain:

(1)  Her fellow "patients" bonds might all be different, but the nurses had been just as professional in their application as they'd been with Frankie.  All of them were totally helpless.  They could free neither themselves nor their fellow patients.  None present were pretending to be prisoners.

(2)  J, the redhead, and the blonde were all lookers.  That is, they were beautiful, gorgeous, athletic, curvaceous, and very pleasing to the eyes, even naked and in bondage.  Frankie considered herself attractive.  Okay, she was equally beautiful, gorgeous, etc.  Probably.  But it was clear that Dr. Stanton had accumulated quite a harem for herself, a harem of which Frankie was, apparently, the newest member.

(3)  Something exceedingly strange was going on at Quaking Aspens, and Frankie was no closer to figuring out what it might be than ever... or how she was going to escape to write a story about it.

Time passed.

Frankie's initial embarrassment passed, but she still felt very much the newcomer.  A pity they couldn't compare notes or share their stories, but gagged conversation was impossible... not to mention ridiculous.  I wonder if they know Morse code, Frankie wondered.  We could blink our eyes... only I don't know Morse code.

J really was pretty.  So were the redhead, and the blonde.  They were all beautiful, in fact, something even their gags couldn't disguise.  They also had great bodies, good muscle tone, narrow waists, flat tummies, etc.  J's breasts were about the same size as Frankie's, while the redhead's were bigger and fuller.  As for the blonde, she had breasts, but they were under the straitjacket (and trying to get out), but didn't appear to be all that huge.

More time passed.

It was a little strange, but none of Frankie's fellow patients seemed to be particularly freaked out by the situation.  Of course, Frankie wasn't freaked out either... at the moment.  Had they been prisoners as long as Frankie?  Longer?  Frankie heaved a frustrated sigh and tested her bonds, just for something to do.

Then, they heard the tap of approaching heels on the linoleum, turned their gagged heads in unison, meerkat fashion, and watched Dr. Stanton and the two nurses enter the Day Room.  Both Kim and Clark were pushing empty wheelchairs.

"Good morning, ladies," Stanton said as she drew near.  She was wearing yet another stylish and very flattering dress, a crisp white lab coat, and her red hair was loose about her shoulders, also as usual.  She focused her lightly freckled smile on Nurse Clark.  "Were introductions made?" she inquired.

"No, doctor," Clarke answered, also smiling.

"Then allow me," Stanton purred, then smiled at Frankie.  "Patient F, allow me to introduce Patients J, K, and T, although I believe my staff refer to them as 'Jaybird,' 'Red,' and 'Blondie,' respectively.  Ladies, Patient F."

The two brunette and the red-haired and blond captives gazed at one another, then focused on Stanton.

The doctor had pulled an iPad mini from her lab coat pocket and was consulting the screen.  "Let's see now... This morning Patient J is scheduled for fellation therapy.  She'll be assisted by..."  Stanton smiled at Frankie.  "Patient F."

Clark nodded and turned to Kim.  "You take Jaybird and I'll take Feisty."

Great, Frankie fumed, now my name is 'Feisty.'

Kim wheeled her chair close to Frankie and began untying the rope keeping her on the sofa while Clarke positioned her wheel chair beside "Jaybird" and started releasing the ropes binding her to the easy chair, but leaving the ropes binding her limbs and body intact.

"When you're finished," Stanton continued, "take Red and Blondie for their daily exercise."

"Yes, doctor," the nurses responded.  Ropes continued sliding and slithering in their expert hands as they readied their patients for departure.

As Frankie focused on her fellow brunette, she had a vague and unsettling idea what "fellation therapy" might entail, but absolutely no idea how she might be equipped to "assist" in the process; however, from the expression on Jaybird's tape-gagged face, she knew exactly it meant, and she wasn't happy.

Frankie was panting through her gag.  It was the aftermath of her vigorous attempts to prevent Kim and Clark from installing her on and in yet another of Stanton's twisted machines.  They were in another second story room, painted salmon-pink like Exam-1, the nearby room with the insidious vibrating saddle that had repeatedly rung Frankie's chimes... yesterday.

Was it really only yesterday? Frankie wondered.

Anyway, the current machine had no saddle, but it did have a phallus, a double-ended phallus.

Frankie was more-or-less sitting upright in midair with her legs splayed to either side in something close to a full split.  Numerous straps enforced this position, binding her against the padding of a stainless steel armature in the shape of an upside down "T."  Her crotch was completely unsupported, but the straps more than made up for this deficiency.  She wasn't going to fall.  She wasn't going to do anything but squirm.

Jaybird was decidedly lower, kneeling between Frankie's splayed legs with her head even with and about a foot from Frankie's crotch.  She was still bound in the same ropes from shoulders to toes, but in addition she was now strapped to a second padded armature.  Jaybird's position was more or less a hogtie, but balanced upright on her knees.  Like Frankie, the straps gave her more than adequate support.  Neither captive was what they would call comfortable, but for the moment, their bonds and postures weren't issues.

The aforementioned double-ended phallus, however, was an issue.  It was mounted to the top of a steel post between Frankie's crotch and Jaybird's face.  One end of the phallus was inside Frankie's pussy, and the other end was in Jaybird's mouth!  It was held there by a leather strap buckled at the nape of Jaybird's neck, under her hair.

Kim was off to one side, standing before a console of buttons and LED lights atop a pedestal similar to the one that had controlled the operation of the Salamandras-3100, and on the pedestal's front panel were two small logos.  The first was the salamander and winged staff Frankie had seen before.  The second was a shield-shaped coat of arms with the letters "H" and "G" prominent.  Engraved text read "S/HOG BST-4/DDD," all of which Frankie found quite fascinating, of course, but not particularly informative.

"I'll put Red to work on the treadmill," Clark announced as she strolled to the chamber door.  "When you're done here, would you put Blondie on the stationary bike?"

"Sure," Kim answered.  She was pushing buttons and throwing switches on the console.

Clark favored the brunette patients with her gloating smile for a few seconds, then was gone.

"Now, Jaybird," Kim said as she threw a final switch and turned a key in a lock on the console, "according to your treatment record, you've participated in fellation therapy twice before, but only in the 'assisting' capacity.  This will be your first active session, so..."  She withdrew the key from the console, dropped it in her uniform pocket, then smiled at Frankie.  "For Patient Feisty's benefit..."  She left the console, stood close to Frankie and Jaybird, then leaned close and nudged one of a pair of small, circular pads with trailing wires she'd pasted to either side of Jaybird's left nipple.  Jaybird's right breast and upper thighs sported similar pads, and their wires trailed to the base of the control console.  "These are electrical contacts," she lectured, then tapped the base of the half of the phallus plugging and emerging from Jaybird's mouth.  "And there's a pressure sensor inside this little beauty to gauge the enthusiasm of Jaybird's sucking efforts.  Should she slack off at some point, the pads will deliver encouragement."

Frankie's blue eyes were locked with Jaybird's sad brown eyes.  Damn, Frankie thought.  Poor Jaybird.

Next, Kim tapped a pair of red and green LED bulbs atop the phallus' central mount.  "The lights will reinforce the feedback," Kim purred.  "Red means try harder, and green confirms that she's in the zone.  Also, the phallus moves, meaning both ends move, sliding in your mouth, Jaybird, and in your pussy, Feisty, respectively.  And by the way, Feisty, there are copper studs in your half of the arrangement, wired into the same circuit as the lights and Jaybird's motivational pads.  I've set the controls so that when and if the circuit closes, you'll be motivated to find a way to provide Jaybird with additional feedback and encouragement.

Frankie and Jaybird watched, as best they could, as Kim strolled to the door.  She paused in the threshold with her hand on the doorknob.  "By the way, Feisty, your end of the phallus also vibrates.  Five minute countdown," she added, nodding towards the console, then closed the door.

The captives of the machine heard a key turn in the door lock, and they were alone.  They locked eyes, again.

Poor Jaybird and Feisty, Frankie thought, amending her earlier assessment.