| by Van ©2019
There's an art
to languishing in tight bondage. Penny had received formal
instruction in languishing as part of her ongoing
kidnapping-for-hire training from Cousin Beebe and Aunt Suki,
and she knew both sides of the issue, meaning proper methods of
rigging and the correct way to writhe in ropes.
Maybe "art" was the wrong term, seeing as the required skills
didn't involve much in the way of action. Can
something be called an 'art' when it's almost totally passive?
Penny wasn't sure. In any case, she knew physical
conditioning and mental preparation were fundamental to
Yoga classes and regular exercise (with pre and post-stretching)
took care of the physical part... mostly... usually.
As for mental preparation, meditation exercises helped,
especially if the languishing in question turned out to be
long-term (like when Aunt Suki was the instructor).
Another factor was the skill and especially the intent of
Suki had browsed the internet for "interesting" videos (for
intellectual/educational purposes, of course) and had seen
enough rigorous and highly elaborate rigging to know that at
least some people seemed to be into
torture-by-rope. The people in question usually tied up
their models with enough hemp or clothesline to rig a dozen
damsels, and in positions that had to be instantly
excruciating and clearly not conducive to long-term
languishing. Yes, some of them were real bastards―meaning
the riggers, not the poor models―but some of the
riggers in question were only pretending to be bastards.
They used a lot of rope, but skated to the edge of torture
without crossing the line. They were role-playing rope
In any case, Penny was quite familiar with overkill-bondage,
both as rigger and rigee. Is 'rigee' a word?
she wondered. Not important. Anyway, Penny
called it "ultra-bondage," Cousin Beebe called it "Überbondage,"
and Suki called it "bondage on days ending in Y." Whatever
you called it, the rigger's skill and intent were the keys.
Fortunately for Penny, Gwyn, and Mandy, Rada obviously had the
required skill-set for ultra-bondage but was not a
rope-torturer. Penny's bonds were elaborate, numerous
(meaning overly numerous), and tight enough to dimple
her skin; but her circulation was unimpaired and even the
knotted crotch-rope was punishing only when she tried to
move. That would change if she was left in her current
predicament for hours... but at least for now... Piece
To summarize (and what else did Penny have to do but summarize)
Penny herself was naked, ultra-hogtied, ball-gagged, and chained
by the neck to the wall of a dungeon cell beneath Bethany
Roget's basement, which, in turn, was beneath Bethany Roget's
gigantic Gothic mansion. And as for her friends, Gwyn was
naked, ultra-shrimp-tied, ball-gagged, and chained by the neck
to the wall of the very same dungeon cell. Mandy was
naked, ultra-ball-tied, ball-gagged, and chained by the neck to
the wall of the very same dungeon cell. Also, all three
damsels had their hair (blond, dark-brown, and ginger,
respectively) plaited in a tight braid and tied back in a manner
that required them to permanently lift their saliva-dripping
Penny noted that her fellow damsels seemed to be handling the
situation quite well. Also, Gwyn and Mandy both looked
really hot sporting their birthday suits (Snow White complexion
and peachy-pink pale with freckles, respectively) and
ultra-bonds (shrimp and ball, respectively).
It was a pity the ball-tie was hiding Mandy's breasts.
Mandy had very nice breasts, but she also had cute knees,
especially when they were tied together, lashed to her
Rada-box-tied upper body, and squashed against said unseen
breasts, and the same want for Mandy's lightly freckled, bare
feet (and tied-together big-toes).
Gwyn's pale breasts were visible, and were hanging a
little, thanks to her shrimp-tie-enforced crunch. The
ropes enforcing the crunch were in the way, partially, but Penny
could see (ogle) most of her pale, semi-pendulous boobs.
Had it been an hour? Possibly. It hadn't been long
enough for the languishing to become onerous; but then, despite
her training, prolonged languishing had never been high on
Penny's list of preferred "special entertainment
activities." Watching other damsels languish? That
was something else, but when Penny was sharing the
languishing experience, it lessened the impact. Penny
heaved a tragic sigh. Her fellow damsels noticed, but
didn't reply in kind. They just stared at her. Oh
Suddenly, they heard the sound of a key turning the lock of the
cell's heavy wooden door (with elaborate iron bands). Click!
This was followed by the sound of its heavy bolt being thrown
back―Thunk!―followed by the door itself swinging
Rada Grabhands entered the cell, still rocking her black leather
Viking Dominatrix outfit. She stood and smiled at the trio
of naked, ultra-bound, and chained-to-the-wall-by-their-collars
damsels, her strong, tan, and grabby hands resting on her
shapely, leather-clad hips. Penny had to admit, their
giant amazon captor was stunningly hot (and scary).
The naked, ultra-bound, and chained-to-the-wall-by-their-collars
damsels stared back. Penny noted that Rada's riding crop
was tucked down the top of her right knee-boot, its handle and
dangling retaining strap the only parts visible. It's
important for a naked, helpless damsel to keep track of things
like whips and riding crops, another lesson Penny had absorbed
from her kidnapping-for-hire training.
Apparently, having at least temporarily achieved her gloating
quota for the morning, Rada said nothing, but proceeded to
release Penny's wall-chain from the back of her collar, then
untie her hogtie. When the straw settled, Penny's collar
was still around her neck but chain-free, and Penny was able to
straighten her legs. She remained naked, ball-gagged, and
elaborately bound from her big-toes to her shoulders.
And then, still without saying a word, Rada picked Penny up,
slung her over her right shoulder in a fireman's carry, feet to
the front and head to the rear, and strode from the
dungeon. Penny's last sight of her naked, ultra-bound,
ball-gagged, and chained-to-the-wall friends was their sad blue
and green eyes. Then... Creeeeeee!
Thunk! Click! ...the cell door was closed,
bolted, and locked, and she was being carried down the dungeon
hallway. At least the end of her braid was no longer tied
to anything, which, in her scalp's humble opinion, was a very
Penny noted the passage of door after door on both sides of the
semi-dark stone corridor. All were made from heavy timbers
(with elaborate iron bands), and as far as she could tell, none
were labeled in any manner with signs or symbols.
Apparently, Rada had the floor plan memorized. They made a
right turn and passed more wooden doors (with elaborate iron
bands). Then, there was a pause... Click!
Thunk! Creeeeeee! ...as Rada unlocked,
unbolted, and opened a door.
Penny was carried inside, slung off Rada's shoulder, and
deposited on a hard wooden bench... or maybe it was a hard
wooden lounge chair. One end of the bench/lounger ended in
a slightly elevated wooden post, and mounted atop the post was a
single wide, thick, oversized cuff of brown leather, well-padded
with woolly lambskin. The other was a back-rest/support
that sloped upwards at something like 45°.
Rada lifted Penny's bound feet, quickly and deftly untied her
ankles, then placed her ankles in the padded cuff and buckled it
tight. Once she realized what Rada was trying to do, Penny
struggled and fought, but, as always, her resistance was
futile. Rada defeated her attempts to squirm free and/or
kick her toe-tied feet with trivial ease. Next, Rada
stepped to the other end of the bench and did something behind
Penny's back that she couldn't see. There was a series of
clicks and thunks, and the bench/lounger's back
slid forward and locked in place. Obviously, the thing was
adjustable. The clicks and thunks repeated
themselves in reverse order... then Rada stretched, tightened,
and buckled broad, thick straps of brown leather across Penny's
lower legs, just below her knees, across her mid-thighs, and
across her waist. Two more straps followed, across her
upper body and arms, above and below her breasts.
Penny squirmed (wiggled) and bucked (quivered), then focused her
blue eyes on her smiling captor and glared for all she
was worth. Penny was already rope-bound and totally
helpless, and now she was strapped to the damn bench/lounger and
barely able to move. It was ridiculous! (Penny made
a mental note to document the apparatus in her
things-to-do-to-damsels idea journal at her earliest
And then, Rada used a length of black cord―probably the same
cord she'd used to link Penny's tied toes to the end of her hair
braid―to link her tied toes to the crotch-rope (with knots)
still cleaving and "entertaining" her private parts whenever she
moved. Then, smiling evilly (and gorgeously), Rada pulled
out the slack 'til Penny's toe-tied feet were stretched back as
far as they could go!
"Mrr-Nrmf-Rrr-Frmmf!" Yes, it was a rude
thing for Penny to say, but Rada deserved it!
Rada knotted the end of cord... smiled down at Penny for a few
seconds... then, without saying so much as a single gloating
word, turned and left the cell, closing, bolting, and locking
the heavy wooden door (with elaborate iron bands) behind
her. Creeeeeee! Thud! Click!
You better run! Penny fumed, squirming in her bonds―Ow!―but
only very briefly. The toes-to-crotch cord was an
effective counterargument to pointless struggling. 'You
better run,' Penny reflected, then heaved a ball-gagged
sigh. I need to think up a better parting shot... even
for when I'm gagged and can only hear it myself.
Penny looked around and discovered she was in another
fifteen-by-fifteen-foot cell, similar to the Languishing Parlor
she'd just left and where Gwyn and Mandy were still
languishing. Her former cell had afforded the amenity of a
carpet of loose straw, but this new cell was straw-free.
The closed, bolted, and locked door (with elaborate iron bands)
was directly opposite her toe-tied and strapped down feet.
To her right was a pair of chairs with a small table in
between. They were of solid timber construction, keeping
with the established dungeon decor, but looked downright comfy,
with cushioned seats and backs, and the table would be the
perfect place to rest a tray with a complete tea or coffee
service. Obviously, the grouping was for hypothetical
observers of whatever was happening to the damsel strapped to
the bench/lounger (which in this case was Penny).
To Penny's left―Penny's eyes widened in alarm―was a comfortably
padded stool, another small table (this one slightly lower) and
a tall basket resting on the floor. The basket was full of
a dozen or more long, slender, upright canes! And resting
on the low table was a wooden tray holding a wooden cup full of
large feathers and a second cup holding a blunt steel probe, a
Wartenberg wheel (a free-spinning pinwheel with needle-sharp
points), a steel fork with bent tines, and several camelhair
brushes of various sizes.
The nature of the hypothetical floor-show was now obvious!
Canes for Bastinado! Insidious tickle-tools for
tootsie-teasing! And all Penny could do was sit and
stare! Squirming was both futile and punishing!
Mewling complaints and/or forcing pleas for mercy past her
ball-gag were/was equally pointless! (Also, at the moment
she lacked an audience!)
All Penny could do was stare... and drool... and sweat.
The chamber was a tad overheated.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
The door to
the basement opened and Rada, Gwyn, and Mandy trooped into the
Mandy was in the rear: naked, Rada-box-tied, ball-gagged, and
steel collared. In other words... same ol' same ol'.
Gwyn was next: naked, but not Rada-box-tied,
ball-gagged, and steel collared. She was free! Also,
the end of Mandy's collar chain was in her left hand and the
handles of Rada's black duffel in her right.
Rada was in the lead, still resplendent in her black leather
Viking Dominatrix outfit and blond braids. The riding crop
was still tucked down her right knee-boot.
"Have a seat, ladies," Rada suggested (ordered), indicating the
small table and chairs the household used for casual kitchen
dining. "I'll fix you some breakfast."
Gwyn dropped the duffel, then pulled out a chair for Mandy's
use. The nude, bound, gagged, collared, and obviously
grumpy redhead settled her naked rump in the seat. Gwyn
then padded to the coffeemaker, began brewing a pot of coffee,
and selected a pair of mugs from the kitchen cabinet
overhead. Once the machine's small pot was full, she
filled the mugs and carried them to the table. She
deposited Mandy's mug in front of her, sat in a neighboring
chair, and gave her mug a sip. "Good stuff," she sighed.
"Mrrr!" Mandy complained, staring daggers at her fellow student
and former fellow damsel-in-distress.
The naked former damsel in question smiled, leaned over, and
unbuckled Mandy's ball-gag, re-buckled the strap on its first
hole, then plucked the black silicon-rubber sphere from the
ginger's frowning mouth and let it drop to her saliva spattered
chest. She then picked up Mandy's mug and held it so the
only prisoner in the kitchen could take a careful sip.
"You're welcome," Gwyn purred, favoring the still manifestly
unhappy Mandy with a dimpled (gloating) grin.
Mandy turned her head and focused on Rada's back. "Tell
her I'm not talking to her," she huffed.
Rada turned and strolled to the table with two bowls of müseli
(rolled oats, grains, nuts, and seeds) mixed with fresh
peach slices. "But you are talking to me?" the
amazon giantess chuckled as she set the bowls in front of the
"Good point," Mandy muttered, then said nothing more.
"Thank you, Rada," Gwyn said, still directing her infuriating
but devilishly cute dimpled grin at the pouting redhead.
Mandy's response was to stick out her tongue at Gwyn, then
Rada returned to the table with a bottle of soy milk and a pair
of spoons. "You girls enjoy your breakfast. I need
to feed the little blond Kattunge still down in the
dungeons." She then returned to the counter, picked up a
tray with a single bowl of müseli and peach slices, a
spoon, napkin, and a small pitcher of soy milk. Then,
deftly balancing the tray in one hand, exited through the
"Kattu-whata?" Mandy inquired.
"I believe 'Kattunge' is 'kitten' in the language of
Norwegian she-trolls," Gwyn explained as she poured milk over
both bowls of müseli (with peach slices), then picked
up one of the bowls and a spoon and shoveled a generous bite
(including one peach slice) into her grinning mouth.
Mandy watched (and pouted) as her naked, alleged friend chewed
and chewed, obviously enjoying the yummy mixture. She knew
her turn would be next. Gwyn wouldn't let her
starve. Also, hand feeding her innocent, virtuous friend
when she was naked and bound would be simply too much fun to
|The Perils of Penny Parr
(and Gwyn had fed Mandy her half of the müseli),
Gwyn led the naked, bound, and re-gagged Mandy through the manor
by her collar-chain. Her goal was the gym. Gwyn knew
Rada would expect her to get her daily exercise, and that
included any guests in residence. Penny would be Rada's
responsibility, as she was still Rada's prisoner, but Mandy's
captivity had been transferred to the daughter of the house, so
exercising the grumpy redhead was Gwyn's responsibility.
Gwyn was still naked, of course. Maybe, once she took care
of her ginger friend, she'd scoot upstairs and get
dressed. Maybe not.
They arrived at the gym―and both Gwyn and Mandy froze in
place―stared―then continued forward. Mandy's green eyes
were wide in amazement. Gwyn's blue eyes sparkled and her
lips were curled in a saucy smile.
The Roget Manor gym was home to many expensive and somewhat
curious exercise machines. All were highly functional, and
None of them were the
commercial models found in commercial gyms, but were either
custom made or radically altered. All exuded a
Victorian/Gothic/Steampunk vibe, with brass gears, steel chain
drives, brass frameworks, and decorative engravings and
embellishments. In other words, the technology was all
modern, even state-of-the-art, but the ambiance was like
something out of a Hammer Studios horror film.
- A rowing machine.
- A treadmill for
- A Nautilus-style
machine for resistance training in various positions.
- And other machines
designed for other forms of exercise.
One of the machines was a stationary bike (appropriately
Victorian) that required the user to pump the foot-pedals and
repeatedly push and pull a pair of long, curved arm-levers with
rubber hand-grips, and it was occupied. The occupant's
ankles and wrists were buckled in padded leather cuffs,
preventing her from either stepping off the pedals or releasing
And the occupant in question was... Bethany Roget!
Oh-by-the-way, the mistress of Roget Manor was naked (like Mandy
and her daughter), sweating like the proverbial horse, and
pumping the pedals and working the arm-levers at a frantic
pace. In addition:
Mandy was familiar with
all aspects of the machine in question from her visit last
summer, although she'd never ridden the diabolical thing.
(Thank God!) The console had a prominent
semi-circular dial with numbers, an elaborately decorative
pointer, and was labeled "Miles per Hour" in an elegant
font. A row of tiny light bulbs (which were actually tiny
LEDs) arced across the top of the dial. The bulbs (LEDs)
glowed green in the range of speeds acceptable to the machine's
active computer program, and red below, designating slower,
unacceptable speeds. And obviously, Bethany was working
hard to keep the pointer above the red and in the green
zone. Why? The nipple-clamps were electrified, and
punished Bethany's tits with stinging zaps if she
allowed the dial's pointer to drift into the red zone. Her
problem was the red/green boundary periodically shifted as the
program shifted between normal pedaling and pumping―sprint
periods requiring strenuous effort (like
now)―and "rest periods" requiring only minimal effort.
- A black leather
"safety belt" kept her rump firmly planted on the machine's
- Her nipples were
captured by copper alligator clips, each with a pair of
long, fabric-covered wires trailing to the console of a
control pedestal in front of the bike.
- She was gagged
with a black leather panel-gag with a pair of somewhat
stiff, segmented, black rubber hoses that were also attached
to the control pedestal.
- A steel clip with
black rubber pads pinched her nostrils closed.
The nose clip meant Bethany could only breathe through her
mouth, so the machine could accurately record her O2
consumption and CO2 production.
Gwyn led Mandy forward until they were both standing in front of
the machine and her nude, sweating, furiously pedaling and
"Oh, mom!" Gwyn huffed, shaking her head, "that's gross!
I just ate breakfast. Yuk!"
Bethany blushed furiously. Of course, her pale, glistening
skin was already flushed in several places, so it was difficult
to tell. She said (or attempted to say) nothing.
Mandy stared at Gwyn's flushed, sweating, furiously exercising
mother. Bethany's boobs bobbled as she worked the
arm-levers, causing the punishment wires dangling from the
copper nipple-clamps to swing and sway. Bethany was in
good shape, Rada saw to that. Naked, bound, gagged,
sweating, and furiously exercising, the Mistress of
Roget Manor was... mesmerizing.
Gwyn turned to her naked, captive, ginger friend. "Do me a
favor and check and see if Rada used... the egg. I'd look
myself, but..." A delicate shudder shook Gwyn's
form. "You know... yuk!"
The "egg" in question was an egg-shaped vibrator of ivory
plastic, with a hefty but flexible attached cable, also in
ivory. It plugged into the saddle, the egg was inserted
into the cyclist's vagina, and the safety belt buckled to make
sure it stayed there.
Mandy padded a step closer, stooped, and gazed between Bethany's
thrashing thighs at the padded saddle. As the Mistress of
the Manor pedaled, the very end of the cable came and went from
view. Mandy stood erect, turned her gagged head to Gwyn,
Gwyn shuddered, again. "Gag me with a spoon!" she
muttered, then shook her head and padded towards the gym's
Mandy had returned to ogling Bethany―her amazing bobbling boobs,
pumping arms, thrashing thighs, and bare, pedaling
feet―"Urrk!"―then her collar-chain snapped taut and she was
dragged in Gwyn's wake.
Gwyn positioned Mandy on the running machine's rubber treadmill,
then clipped snap-hooks dangling at the ends of various "safety
chains" dangling from the ceiling through the shoulder-yoking
ropes of Mandy's Rada-box-tie. After she finished
programming and activating the machine, the now loosely dangling
chains would tighten up. Smiling sweetly, she turned knobs
and flicked switches on the control console, none of which Mandy
could see from her position on the treadmill. Then,
favoring her glaring ginger friend with a dimpled grin,
Gwyn pushed a final button.
The machine hummed, the safety chains tightened, and then...
Mandy blinked at her friend/tormentor.
"You just ate," Gwyn explained, "therefore, I programmed a
half-hour pause. After that, you can start getting your
Mandy blinked, again. How long will I have to
run? How many miles? She knew the running
machine had a variety of programs, including simple walking, a
mix of running and walking (with and without periodic sprints),
and with and without "hill work," during which the treadmill
canted up and down ten or fifteen degrees. What's the
program? What have you done to me?
Gwyn smiled but didn't answer any of the obvious questions, and
she was well aware that from her position on the treadmill,
Mandy couldn't see any of the console settings.
Mandy heaved a disgusted sigh, then returned to angrily staring
at her naked friend.
"Don't be like that," Gwyn purred. "I could have
deployed the clips and pads, ya know."
Mandy sighed, rolled her green eyes, but forced herself to stop
glaring. All the machines in the gym had provisions for
punishing their users if they slacked off. In the the case
of the running machine, that included nipple-clamps, as well as
TENS pads that could be adhered to strategic locations, all of
which would ZAP the runner if the tension-meters built
into the winch-motors overhead sensed the runner was letting the
chains take her weight. Gwyn hadn't used them, which Mandy
decided qualified as being "nice."
"Arr-oo," Mandy forced through her gag.
"You're welcome," Gwyn answered with a dimpled grin.
Across the gym, the rhythmic sounds generated by the stationary
bike had reduced in volume and frequency. Also, Bethany
had significantly reduced her pedaling and pumping
efforts. Apparently, she'd made it to one of the program's
"rest periods." She was panting through her gag/breathing
monitor and was still dripping with sweat, but now she was also
shivering and shuddering. Also apparently, the program
dictated "egg entertainment" with all rest periods.
"Rada's being a real bitch this morning," Gwyn sighed.
Both youngsters were watching Bethany's "ordeal." A
delicate shudder of deep disgust shook Gwyn's body, as
before and for the same reason. "Yuk!"
Mandy shrugged her rope-yoked shoulders, causing her tethering
chains to shake. They were too taut to rattle. Not
sharing a familial relationship with the Mistress of Roget
Manor, she found the older damsel's naked, pale, sweaty, gagged,
nipple-clamped, and vibratory predicament to be kinda hot.
Gwyn frowned at her ginger friend in disgust, but she
understood. She then smiled, heaved a sigh, turned, and
padded towards the door that led to the indoor pool.
"Well, enjoy the rest of your morning, or day, or whatever I
programmed into that thing," she called back over her
shoulder. "I'm gonna take a nice swim."
Mandy and Bethany watched the naked little brunette make her
exit... then locked eyes across the gym and shared a
commiserating sigh. They were sisters in naked,
involuntary exercise and inescapable bondage, so
despite their age difference, commiserative sighing was the
right thing to do.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
... Languishing-languishing-languishing. ...
Penny heaved a deep, truly tragic, ball-gagged sigh. I
am going to give this place a blistering Yelp rating,
she silently fumed... then raised an eyebrow. Does
Yelp have a category for Spooky Gothic Mansions?
Probably not... unless the Rogets have a business license and
this place is actually a hotel.
Anyway, being naked, elaborately and artistically bound with
black hemp rope from big-toes to shoulders, strapped to a
cushion-free, hard wooden bench/lounger by wide, thick, tight
leather straps, and ball-gagged was getting old... very
old. And having her tied-together big toes linked to her
crotch-rope (with knots) by a length of black cord pulled as
taut as the proverbial fiddle string was getting colossally
old. Her feet, including her soles, were completely
immobilized. What if I get a cramp? It'll be...
torture. She stole a glance at the "Bastinado-basket"
full of canes and the wooden cups full of tickle-torture-tools
resting on the low wooden table. Torture!
Just then―Click! Thunk! Screeeee!―the door
was unlocked, unbolted, and opened, and Rada Grabhands strode
into the cell, still rocking her Viking Dominatrix drag and
smiling her evil (gorgeous) smile. She was holding a tray
with (as far as Penny could see) a bowl and a small pitcher.
"Ready for breakfast?" Rada inquired.
Penny glared at her captor. Breakfast? Am I
ready for breakfast? Let me think. YES! Talk
about your stupid questions.
Rada repositioned the padded stool from between the
Bastinado-basket and tickle-torture-tool-table to Penny's right
side. She'd placed the tray with the cups of
tickle-torture-tools on the stone floor and was using the table
to support the alleged breakfast tray, and Penny could now see
that the bowl held a serving of cereal (of some disgustingly
healthy variety, with peach slices), and in addition to the
little pitcher there was also a folded cloth napkin and a
spoon. Apparently, Rada was serious about this breakfast
The Viking Dominatrix leaned forward, reached behind Penny's
head, unbuckled her ball-gag, and re-bucked the strap on its
first hole. She then poured milk from the pitcher into the
bowl and stirred it with the spoon.
Eventually, Penny managed to work her jaws, push with her
tongue, and force the black silicon-rubber ball from her
mouth. The ball-gag flopped to her saliva-splattered chest
and became a kinky fashion statement. She licked her lips
and continued working her jaw―"Mrrf!"―then "accepted" the
spoonful of cereal Rada had abruptly shoveled into her mouth.
Penny chewed... then swallowed. Healthy or not, this
stuff's good. She licked her lips and stared daggers
at her captor/rigger/servitor. "You're a good rigger," she
conceded, then accepted a second spoonful of cereal.
"Thank you," Rada purred, stirring the remaining cereal.
Penny chewed and swallowed, again. "Let me go," she
requested in a calm voice.
"No," Rada grinned, and fed her blond little captive a third
Penny chewed, and chewed, and stared at Rada. She finally
swallowed. "Why not?"
"Each day of your first week as Mistress Bethany's guest will
include at least six hours of serious bondage," Rada explained,
"so I can evaluate your fitness―both physical and
emotional―and assess your familiarity with bondage techniques
and best practices."
Penny blinked, considering her best response. She opened
her mouth, intending to point out that she had certainly not
agreed to undergo any such evaluation, and Rada took the
opportunity to shovel a fourth spoonful of cereal into said
mouth. Penny glared... and chewed... and swallowed.
"And if I say no?"
Rada chuckled. "Oh, Kattunge..." She fed
Penny the last remaining spoonful of müseli (with peach
slices). "That's so adorable. This is how
we do things at Roget Manor."
Penny glared, chewed, and swallowed, then graciously allowed
Rada to tip the bowl and empty the remaining cereal and peach
flavored soy-milk into her pouting mouth.
Rada smiled. "Mandy survived her assessment, last
summer. Are you afraid you will not?"
Penny's glare intensified. That was a low blow,
insinuating that Mandy was more of a courageous
damsel-in-distress than Penny Parr! The very idea!
"Okay, but you stripped me naked and tied me up before
dawn. Enough is enough. Mrrrpfh!" Rada had
lifted the ball-gag and deftly shoved the black ball into
Penny's mouth, and now she was buckling the strap at the nape of
her neck, under her blond braid! The ball-gag was
back! And it was as tight as before, meaning before
breakfast. How rude!
"I said at least six hours," Rada purred, then returned
the table and stool to their former positions. She then
placed the breakfast tray on the floor, next to the cell
door. Next, smiling evilly (and gorgeously) she returned
to Penny, prisoner of the insidious wooden bench/lounger, leaned
down, and untied the slip-knot securing Penny's big-toe cord to
her crotch-rope (with knots). The cord went limp, Rada
untied its other end, then coiled and stuffed the cord in the
pocket of her black leather Viking Dominatrix pants.
Penny heaved a sigh of relief (before she could stop herself),
then resumed glaring at Rada.
"Oh, Kattunge," Rada purred, "you should be more
grateful." Continuing to smile her evil (gorgeous) smile,
she leaned forward and firmly (but gently) gave Penny's left
nipple a playful tweak.
"Mrrrk!" Penny complained. Then blinked and glared
at the smiling giantess.
"I could have used clover-clamps to tie your cute
little Brystvorter to your cute little Tær,"
Rada suggested. "But I did not. Rada was kind."
From the context, Penny surmised Brystvorter and Tær
were Norwegian for nipples and toes. If that was the
case, then yes, Penny fervently agreed that Rada had,
in fact, been kind. She swallowed, blinked, and nodded.
"I'll be back," Rada announced, then―Creeeee!
Thud! Click!―made her exit, closing, bolting, and
locking the cell door (with elaborate iron bands) behind her.
So... Penny thought. Back to languishing.
... Bummer. At least I can move my feet.
She flexed the feet in question. Ow! Her
toes were still tied together. She decided her feet would
be enjoying only very limited flexing until she was
Wait a minute! Did she say 'your first week?' She
did! Seven days? Maybe five, if she's means a work
week! Anyway, a week? Penny squirmed in her
bonds, as best she could. Everything was still snug and
tight, both the black hemp rope and the broad, thick leather
straps. Bummer. She heaved a sigh. Still...
if Mandy survived her first week... it can't be that
bad... can it?
|The Perils of Penny Parr