| by Van ©2019
endured an additional hour of languishing in the Bastinado
& Tickle-torture Parlor when―Click! Thunk!
Creeeeeee!―the dungeon door was unlocked, the bolt was
thrown, and it swung open. And then... Rada strode across
the threshold. The statuesque blonde had changed out of
her Viking Dominatrix costume and into sneakers and anklets,
calf-length spandex workout pants, and a sports bra, all in Evil
Villainess Black. Her flaxen locks were still parted down
the middle and plaited in a pair of braids.
ensemble might be "normal," but it was still sinister, as far as
Penny was concerned. Despite the Norwegian's firm, toned,
richly-tanned, and very feminine physique―and despite
the way the spandex pants hugged her buns and the bra cups
elastically and enthusiastically embraced her generous boobs (with pokies)―Rada
was sinister. There were the issues of her
flat-but-sculpted and exposed stomach (and super-cute
bellybutton), strong arms, and gorgeous smiling face,
but Rada was Rada, so... sinister. Of course, at this
point, as far as Penny was concerned, Rada in a nun's habit
singing Greatest Hits From The Sound
of Music while playing with puppies and kittens would
Penny glared at the giantess as Rada unbuckled the
bench/lounger's thick, wide, leather straps, one-by-one... then
unbuckled the lambswool-fleece-lined leather cuff confining her
ankles... then untied the cord binding her big-toes together...
then untied the black hemp ropes binding her legs,
crotch, and waist. Only Penny's Rada-box-tie, steel
collar, and black ball-gag remained. Penny eased herself
off the hard wooden bench/lounger and rather stiffly stood
erect. It felt very good to be able to move her legs
again. She twisted her still upper-body-bound body, lifted
and flexed her legs, flexed her bare feet, and heaved a
Meanwhile, Rada had quickly and efficiently coiled all the
recently removed lengths of black rope and used the recently
removed toe-cord to bundle them together―all the lengths of rope
but one, that is. Still smiling her evil (gorgeous) smile,
Rada tossed the bundled ropes over her left shoulder like a rope
bandoleer, then looped one end of the rope through the ring in
the front of Penny's collar and tied a quick knot. Once
again, Penny had a leash.
Penny supposed she could have tried to resist, and might even
have managed to plant a swift kick between the towering
Norwegian's perfect legs and right in the muffin basket, but
she'd still be box-tied and scampering around the dungeon, and
she wasn't at all a sure thing she'd find her way upstairs
before Rada recovered from the kick enough to recapture
her. And what would happen then? Nothing good, Penny
was sure of that.
Rada took a firm grip on Penny's new collar-rope-leash, turned,
and strode from the cell, her rope-bandoleer swaying with each
Penny had no choice but to pad in Rada's wake. As they
walked, she took the occasion to continue ogling the blond
amazon's spandex-covered, dimpled butt, strong thighs, and tan
calves. It helped pass the time, but mostly Penny worried
about where Rada was taking her next. Was some novel and
insidious piece of dungeon furniture and/or torture engine in
her future? Or would it be another empty dungeon cell for
yet more languishing?
Penny's kidnapping-for-hire training included Enhanced
Situational Awareness, the art of noting and especially
remembering the details of her surroundings. And though
Penny's mental map of the dungeon was far from complete, if
forced to guess, she thought they just might be heading
back to the iron gate and the stairs leading up to the basement.
She was right! They came to the iron bars, there was a
pause while Rada unlocked and opened the gate. They
climbed the stone steps... then continued on, traversing the
Next to the stairs that led from the basement and up to the
kitchen was a deep-sink and a tall wooden stool. Rada
shrugged out of her rope-bandoleer and let it drop to the
concrete floor, then lifted Penny by the waist and planted her
butt on the stool.
"Mrrrf!" Penny complained, staring daggers at the grinning
Rada spoke for the first time since reappearing at the Bastinado
& Tickle-Torture Parlor to "rescue" Penny. "Time to
clean your dirty little Føtter, Kattunge," she
Penny surmised "Føtter" was Norwegian for "feet," and
while she was willing to concede that her feet probably did need
cleaning, Penny didn't want Rada to do it for her! She
looked down and noted a plastic bucket resting in the deep-sink,
then watched as Rada added a dollop of liquid soap to the
bucket, filled it with water, then lifted a scrub brush from a
nearby shelf. Gulp! Yes, A scrub brush!
Penny shook her head―"Nrrr!"―but before she could jump down from
the stool, Rada grabbed her left foot and lifted it into the
air! "Mrrmpfh!" Again, as always, despite Penny's
strenuous resistance, Rada's size, strength, and damsel handling
expertise carried the day. It wasn't even a contest.
Rada leaned close to keep her naked, squirming, bound, and
gagged captive on the stool, dipped the brush in the soapy water
with her right hand, then proceeded to give the sole of Penny's
left foot a thorough scrubbing!
Penny wiggled and kicked her right leg and mewled a steady
stream of complaints through her ball-gag. Thankfully, the
brush wasn't all that stiff; however, even with a soft brush,
when it's someone else doing the scrubbing, it tickles!
And it did! It tickled!
It also tickled when Rada switched feet and scrubbed the sole of
Penny's right foot! The smiling Tickle Monster
then used a ratty but clean towel to dry both of Penny's
feet. Truth be told, Penny found the humiliation of being
so easily handled to be the worst part of the ordeal, but the
brush had tickled.
Once again, Rada took Penny by the waist, lifted her off the
stool, and planted her now clean feet on the first step of the
stairs to the kitchen. She then pointed up to the closed
kitchen door. "Go, Kattunge," she chuckled.
Penny paused to deliver a... Stare of Profound Disdain... then
padded up the stairs, as ordered. After all, she wanted
out of the dungeon (a goal she'd achieved) and would just as
soon give the basement a pass as well.
Re-slinging her rope-bandolier, Rada followed, then opened the
door to the kitchen for the still pouting Penny. They
entered the kitchen, Rada dropped the rope-bandolier, again,
then renewed her grip on the end of Penny's leash and led her
"Time for your daily exercise, Kattunge," Rada purred.
Penny rolled her eyes and followed.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
this is a vacation?
Penny was rowing. Penny hated rowing.
Rowing was bad enough when she was rowing a boat. At least
when she was rowing a boat she was going somewhere.
And she was on the water. And there were seagulls and
clouds and waves and... all that other water
stuff. But Penny wasn't rowing a boat. Penny was
rowing a machine that was bolted to the floor, which
meant she wasn't going anywhere.
The setting was Roget Manor's fully, elaborately, expensively,
and somewhat creepily equipped gym. And she was rowing the
gym's elaborate, obviously expensive, and creepy rowing machine,
and it wasn't just any rowing machine. It was a Jules
Verne rowing machine. In fact, it was a kinky Jules
Verne rowing machine. It was a Twenty-thousand Leagues
Under the Sea by Kinky Rowing Machine rowing machine,
with Victorian ambiance and lots of curlicue decorations and
ornate brass parts.
Why kinky? Penny was naked, with her butt planted on the
machine's minimal but well-padded saddle/seat, a leather strap
buckled around her waist to keep her there, and her ankles and
wrists locked in steel fetters or cuffs or shackles or whatever
they called the damn things in the kinky rowing machine
catalog. Penny was sure Jules Verne would not have
approved. Then again, Penny mused, he was
French. Maybe he would approve.
The seat slid freely along a metal track, and to work the
machine Penny was required to bend her knees and lean all the
way forward, then lean all the way back, straightening her legs
and back while pulling a pair of "oars" to her chest with all
her might. The oars were really wooden poles attached to a
set of pulleys and/or gears and/or, uh, other mechanical stuff,
but they had oar-like handles. Also, the oars and seat and
foot pedals were all somehow interconnected and offered
resistance as she rowed.
Once Penny got into the rhythm, she could tell when she was
doing it right. And why should she care? If Penny
didn't get optimal effort out of any given stroke, rather than
being rewarded by a quiet, nearly subliminal ding-dong
at peak effort, she was punished by an electrical zap
delivered to her butt-cheeks by the copper pads embedded in
the saddle/seat's padding. It stung! Penny
rowed, and quickly learned how to get it right.
Electricity can be both a good teacher and a strong motivator.
Rada had installed Penny in the machine, defeating her
resistance with her usual depressing competence, then stepped to
a control console and started turning dials, flicking switches,
throwing levers, and doing other stuff that Penny assumed was
somehow programming the rowing machine. In any case, the
controls were mounted on a pedestal and mostly hidden from
Penny's view behind an unusual television monitor. Keeping
with the Jules Verne theme, the monitor's screen had an ornate
gilded frame, and once Penny started rowing (at Rada's urging
and to avoid getting her butt zapped) a movie started
flickering on the screen in sepia tones.
Eventually, Penny realized she was probably watching a series of
computer generated but photo-realistic scenes, all in the same
setting and with the same characters, randomly and seamlessly
spliced together to give the impression of an endless
narrative. And what was the plot of the screenplay?
A couple of hundred naked women were chained to the oars of a
futuristic galley of some sort and were rowing, much like Penny
was rowing. And rather than reacting to butt-zaps, they
were being encouraged in their efforts by a truly stunning woman
in a skimpy leather and bronze swimsuit with a big ol' bullwhip,
and she wasn't shy about using it, either!
The movie was a talkie, so Penny could hear the creak of oars,
the rattle of chains, and the moans and whimpers of her fellow
Also―Whacka!―she heard every snap of the bitch-woman's
whip, as well as the scantily clad beauty's continuous (and
monotonous) chant of encouragement: "In―out―in―out," etc.
Why 'in―out?' and not 'stroke―stroke?' Penny
wondered. She had no idea. But then, this was a kinky
Jules Verne slave galley, so maybe it did make sense.
Or maybe the chant had been mistranslated from the original
French. Penny was too busy rowing to worry about it.
The cast also included a pair of topless women gleaming with oil
and pounding on kettle drums to set the rhythm. They got
their own closeups now and then, but the bitch-with-the-whip was
clearly the star of the show. All the rowers were
extras... naked, sweaty, suffering extras. Penny would
have felt sorry for them if they weren't computer generated, she
wasn't busy rowing, and wasn't already busy feeling sorry for herself.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Penny was reminded of an old
movie she'd once watched. It had a scene like this... a
brief scene... but she couldn't remember the movie's name, or
the plot, or who had starred in the thing, or who had played the
Damn, Penny thought as she rowed. That's gonna
bug me 'til I think of it. I'll ask the others.
Mandy will remember. She's an old movie buff.
Penny would have asked one of the others now, of course, but she
was alone in the gym... and was still ball-gagged.
This was getting old.
Penny had been rowing for at least a half hour... continuously!
Penny blinked the sweat out of her blue eyes,
and―"Mrrrf?"―suddenly, realized Rada Grabhands was casually
standing to her right, smiling her evil (gorgeous) smile and
with her arms crossed across her chest, under her breasts.
Oh-by-the-way, she was naked! No Viking Dominatrix
costume! No evil black exercise clothes! No
"Mrrrpfh!" Penny complained, and thanks to the distraction of
Rada's sudden nude appearance, fumbled her stroke―"Mrrrk!"―and
was rewarded with a butt-zap!
Still smiling, Rada padded to the rowing machine's console and
threw a brass lever.
The machine's motors immediately stopped humming, the oars,
saddle/seat, and foot pedals locked in place, and the TV screen
Panting through her ball-gag, her breasts heaving and her body
dripping with sweat, Penny stared sharp, wicked, lethal daggers
at Rada. Rada smiled back. Obviously, Penny's visual
daggers weren't all that lethal, because the expertly
hurled visual knives bounced off the tall Norwegian's
disgustingly perfect body, clattered to the gym floor, and
disappeared in poofs of irate smoke.
"You'll get the hang of rowing, Kattunge," Rada
purred. "Next time I'll include a few intervals at ramming
speed. You'll find it to be quite strenuous."
Penny continued her hostile staring, panting, and sweating as
Rada unlocked the steel fetters, cuffs, or shackles from her
ankles and wrists and the collar from around her
neck. The Kinky Rowing Machine's restraints were all
padded on the inside and hadn't chaffed her skin as she rowed,
but she was certainly glad to be rid of the damn things.
Next, Rada unbuckled Penny's leather waist-belt. Then, she
lifted Penny into her arms―like a big, naked, sweaty,
ball-gagged baby―and carried her from the gym.
"Mrrrmpfh," Penny complained.
"Hush," Rada chuckled.
Penny continued glaring at Rada (and ignoring the feel of the
giant naked amazon's naked, skin against her naked,
sweaty skin), then slowly reached for the buckle of her ball-gag
with both hands.
Rada's radiant smile never wavered. "No," she ordered.
It was worth a try, Penny thought, then sighed and rested
her hands on her thighs. They were entering a tiled
space. She noted a cedar door with a little window at
viewing height, probably leading to a sauna―a shower area―a
long, narrow table padded with brown leather―and wooden cabinets and
lockers lining the wall farthest from the shower.
Oh-by-the-way, the table had padded cuffs at the top and bottom,
also of brown leather! But it was soon obvious the shower was
their immediate destination.
Penny heaved another sigh as Rada turned on the water... waited
for the stream to come to temperature, then carried her under
the steady stream of hot water. Rada made sure Penny got a
thorough rinse, turning and lifting her naked body as required,
but without ever letting her bare feet touch the tiled
floor. They were both drenched from head to toe, of
course, and Penny found it humiliating to be treated
like a naked toddler that needed a quick rinse. She
supposed if the height difference between herself and her
handler hadn't been so great, getting flipped around and
hand-scrubbed might not have been so easy. But then, Rada
Grabhands was a towering and muscular shield-maiden, so she had
what it took to
accomplish the wet, slippery task.
Next came the body-soap. Rada continued using her hands,
and her hands only, and made sure every square inch of Penny's
wet, naked body was thoroughly soaped, scrubbed, and
cleaned. Penny struggled weakly, but didn't really try and
impede Rada's efforts. Her squirming body and batting
hands were mainly a way to lodge her displeasure.
Another rinse followed... another through rinse... then
Rada turned off the water
and carried Penny to the table.
Once Penny noted their destination, her perfunctory struggling
shifted into high gear...
not that it did her any good... not that it ever did
her any good. She kicked and twisted, squirmed and
mewled―"Mrrrmf!"―but couldn't prevent Rada from planting her on
the table, face down, and holding her there while she buckled
the padded cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Penny was
now loosely spreadeagled on her stomach, naked, wet, and squirming.
Still smiling, Rada strolled away to a cabinet, opened a door, lifted a big
fluffy towel from a stack, and began drying her giant, perfect,
Penny squirmed, struggled, mewled―"Mrrrm!"―and tugged on her
bonds. Her pale body slid and squeaked against
the table's wet brown leather. It was hopeless. She
wasn't getting off the table until Rada decided to let her go.
Penny glared at the statuesque blonde as Rada padded back
to the table, still smiling and drying her depressingly perfect,
richly tanned form.
glaring while Rada used the now damp towel to dry Penny's
pinioned body, but the smiling blonde seemed mostly interested
in drying the leather surface of the table. Penny
transitioned from wet to damp to more-or-less dry almost as an
Penny continued tugging on her bonds and watched as Rada tossed
the towel in a hamper, opened another cabinet, and started...
doing something. Her gigantic, perfect, naked body was in
the way (including her well-muscled back, perfect buns, and firm
thighs), so Penny couldn't follow the details. Then,
having finished whatever she'd been doing, Rada turned and
gracefully exited the
Penny tugged on her cuffs, again. Yeah, you better
run, or... whatever. She heaved another ball-gagged
sigh and rested the side of her ball-gagged head on the soft
She could now see what Rada had been doing. Resting on a
waist-high counter built into the cabinet was an elegant glass
vessel with a spout and handle. It was half-full of some
sort of clear, amber-tinted liquid, rested on an iron stand, and
was being warmed by a small candle. Massage oil?
Penny decided the fluid was probably massage oil. It
made sense. She
was strapped to a padded table.
So... massage oil. Penny was going to get a
massage... eventually. That's a good thing, right?
Penny closed her eyes. Yeah... Why not? A
massage would be a good thing... but can we
just get on with it?
|The Perils of Penny Parr
Mandy was still
helplessly bound with black hemp rope in the exact same
Rada-box-tie that Rada had placed her in before dawn, was still
ball-gagged with the same black silicon-rubber, black
leather, and chrome-steel hardware ball-gag, and was still
naked. When Gwyn returned from her swim in Roget Manor's
indoor pool (still naked) the smiling brunette had extracted her
from the running machine, taken her to the shower in the Sauna
& Massage Room, rinsed her off (ropes, ball-gag, and all)
then dragged her kicking and mewling (meaning led her as she
padded with quiet dignity) to her bedroom―meaning Gwyn's
The naked pair were now sitting cross-legged on Gwyn's gigantic,
Gothic bed. Gwyn was behind her ginger friend (and
captive). She'd unraveled Mandy's braid and was using a
comb and brush set to gently brush her long, ginger hair.
Gwyn had already released her own braid and brushed her own
hair. Now it was Mandy's turn.
Gwyn smiled. "What?"
Gwyn set down the brush and comb, then parted Mandy's ginger
tresses, unbuckled the ball-gag, re-buckled the strap on its
first hole, then resumed brushing her friend's glorious red
Mandy worked her jaw, pushed with her tongue, and finally
succeeded in ejecting the black, silicon-rubber ball. It
dropped to the end of its strap and bounced against her pale,
lightly freckled, saliva-splattered chest.
"Lunch," Mandy demanded.
"Nope," Gwyn responded. "Mother's gonna have one of her
High Teas. We're invited."
"When?" Mandy demanded.
"Later," Gwyn replied (and smiled her dimpled smile).
Mandy heaved a sigh. "I gotta pee," she announced, then
(rather awkwardly) unfolded her legs, scooted to the edge of the
bed, stood, and padded to the bedroom suite's attached bathroom.
Gwyn continued smiling and watched her naked and Rada-box-tied
friend lean down, grope for the doorknob, fumble, and finally
succeed in opening the ornately carved door. She then
padded from sight. There was a pause... then the sound of
tinkling water (as Mandy tinkled)... followed by the flush of
the toilet... followed by the splashing sound of the toilet's
bidet function... then Mandy padded back into the bedroom.
Mandy watched as Gwyn placed the brush and comb on the right
bedside table, then slid between the covers and rested her head
on a pillow and closed her eyes. Mandy turned to gaze at
the closed bedroom door. Maybe I can make a break for
it, she thought.
"Locked," Gwyn announced.
Mandy heaved a disappointed sigh. Of course it is.
She padded to the bed, sat, lifted her lightly freckled legs,
and rolled against her friend (and current captor).
Gwyn pulled the covers over both of them, then snuggled her
pale, naked body against her bound friend's naked, lightly
"I take it we're taking a nap?" Mandy huffed.
"Yes, Captain Obvious," Gwyn purred, "we're taking a nap.
And unless you want your ball-gag back, you'll shut your yap."
Mandy heaved another sigh. "No need to be rude," she
muttered, then closed her green eyes. Actually,
Mandy decided, taking a nap is a stellar idea.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
her eyes. I fell asleep waiting for my massage, she
realized. Go figure. She was still naked,
ball-gagged, and loosely spreadeagled, face down, on the padded
massage table with her wrists and ankles still buckled in
inescapable leather cuffs. So... that hadn't
changed. Also, the glass vessel half-full of massage oil
was still warming over a tiny candle on its iron stand.
There was one minor change: a rather pleasant floral aroma hung
in the air. It wasn't strong, but it was definitely there.
Penny heard quiet footfalls, turned her ball-gagged head, and
watched Bethany Roget stroll in her direction. The
Mistress of Roget Manor was wearing a really pretty
spaghetti-strap sundress in a floral print (hyacinth and coral
on a black background) and her smile was radiant.
Penny was impressed... and wanted off the table.
"You're absolutely adorable," Bethany purred, then
opened one of the lockers and started undressing... or un-sundressing
in this instance. Soon, Bethany's attire was reduced to a
very pretty matching demi-bra and bikini-panties ensemble in
Again, Penny was impressed. Gwyn's mom was hot.
Pale skin, feminine but very fit physique, gleaming black hair,
and gorgeous face (with that cute little cleft in her
chin). In fact, the semi-elderly, fifty-something Bethany
was just as hot as Penny's semi-elderly, fifty-something cousin
Beebe, just not in the same way. Cousin Beebe was a Viking
shield-maiden (like Rada), whereas Bethany was a French
duchess... maybe even a queen.
Penny continued watching as Bethany covered most of her
semi-naked hotness with what amounted to a pink lab coat.
She closed the locker, buttoned most of the lab coat's buttons
(but left a decent amount of cleavage), then stepped to the
counter with the massage oil, draped a small towel over her
right arm, lifted the glass vessel, and carefully poured a small
dollop into the palm of her left hand. Then, still smiling
her radiant smile, she rubbed her hands together and strolled to
Penny and the table.
"Mrrrf?" Penny inquired. She really didn't have a
question, but felt she had to say something.
"Just relax, Kitten," Bethany purred, then began massaging
Penny's shoulders with her smooth, slick, oily hands.
Penny shivered in... distress? Actually, Bethany's hands
felt good. Actually, as the massage enlarged to include
Penny's back and ribs, she decided Bethany's hands felt really
good. Penny continued squirming, struggling, and tugging
on her cuffs, as well as mewling in outrage. Truth be
told, she was shivering and moaning with pleasure, but felt she
had to keep up appearances. Damsels-in-Distress struggle
and mewl. They don't shiver and moan.
The massage continued... with Bethany stepping away to replenish
the oil on her hands from time to time... and came to include
Penny's arms, butt, thighs, calves, and feet, as well as her
shoulders and back. And to Penny's surprise, the foot
massage didn't tickle. Bethany knew what she was doing...
and it felt good!
Penny realized Bethany was unbuckling her wrist-cuffs... then
"Turn over for me, Kitten," Bethany purred.
Penny stretched full length while still on her
stomach―"Mrrrrr!"―then rolled onto her back. Bethany
(still smiling, of course) held the right wrist-cuff open and
Penny helpfully placed her wrist in the padding and watched as
Bethany closed and buckled the cuff. Now why did I do
that? Penny wondered. She didn't know why she was
letting Bethany also capture (meaning recapture) and
secure her left wrist... left ankle... and right ankle.
Now, Penny was loosely spreadeagled on her oiled and
well-massaged back and just as naked and helpless as
before. "Mrrrf." And ball-gagged. Penny was
Bethany replenished the warm, floral-scented oil on her hands,
then set to work on Penny's breasts, stomach, and thighs.
Penny blushed. It was mildly embarrassing to have Gwyn's
mom squeezing her boobs and massaging her tummy. Okay, it
was very embarrassing. Bethany's oily hands
glided towards her inner things, and Penny decided she had to
say something. "Mrrrpfh!" Unfortunately, the
ball-gag was limiting her vocabulary.
Bethany's smile never wavered, but she did cease her
flesh-fondling and wiped her hands with the small towel.
She then leaned forward, reached behind Penny's head, and
unbuckled and removed the ball-gag, plucking the silicon-rubber
ball from Penny's mouth.
"Yes?" Bethany inquired.
Penny licked her lips, worked her jaws, and swallowed. Now
that the gag was gone, she found herself at a loss for words.
"Uh, thank you," Penny said, finally.
"You're welcome, Kitten," Bethany purred. "I think we're
"Uh... okay." Still blushing, Penny watched as Bethany
unbuckled the wrist and ankle-cuffs, one by one, then helped her
sit up and hop off the table. She rubbed her wrists (even
thought they didn't really need it) and continued watching as
Bethany opened a cabinet and returned with―Gulp!―what
Penny instantly recognized as a set of cage-cuffs, two hinged
hoops of chrome-steel set ninety-degrees apart on a common set
of hinges. They were just the right size and
shape to close around a pair of crossed wrists, and secured by
means of a small brass padlock.
Bethany spun Penny around, gathered her hands behind her back,
crossed her wrists, and quickly, deftly locked the cage-cuffs in
place―and Penny let her do it! One might say she even
cooperated, not even pretending to struggle while Bethany slid
the padlock through the appropriate holes and snapped it shut!
"There we go," Bethany purred, then stepped to the locker,
opened its tall, narrow door, unbuttoned her pink lab coat, and
hung it up. She then dressed in her
hyacinth-and-coral-on-black floral pattern, spaghetti-strap, very
pretty and flattering sundress.
Penny took the occasion to bite her lower lip and twist her
wrists, testing her new restraints. She knew about
cage-cuffs, of course. She knew about all sorts of
steel cuffs. But this was her first actual experience
"escaping" from cage-cuffs. The problem was, with her
wrists permanently crossed the way they were, she could just
barely touch the flipping, flopping padlock with her fingertips,
but even if Bethany was nice enough to loan her a set of lock
picks, Penny seriously doubted she'd succeed in picking the
lock. Even if Bethany handed her the key, she seriously
doubted she'd succeed in opening the lock.
And why did I let her do it? First the table cuffs, and
now cage-cuffs? Why? Penny fought like a
wildcat when Rada tried (and succeeded) it tying her up or
strapping her down, so why was she giving Bethany's mom a
complete pass? Why? It's a puzzlement, a real
And while Penny was standing there (naked, blushing, and lightly
oiled), Bethany scooped up Penny's old friend Mr. Ball-gag from
the table, took her by the arm, and led her from the
shower/massage room. Bethany's sandals tapped on the
tiles... then went silent when they reached the carpeted floor
of a hallway. Penny's bare feet were silent on both the
tiles and the carpet.
"You're invited to High Tea later this afternoon," Bethany
announced, "but in the meanwhile, why don't you take a nice
Penny opened her mouth to object... but actually, a "nice nap"
sounded good. Penny might have dozed off while waiting for
her massage, but found she was still not fully recovered from
her rowing machine ordeal. "Uh... okay."
"Excellent," Bethany purred, and the journey continued.
They passed parlor after parlor after library after drawing room
after parlor... climbed a set of stairs to the second floor...
then trooped down the hallway to an ornately carved wooden door.
Bethany released Penny's arm, turned her until they were
face-to-face, then―"Mrrrf?"―planted a warm kiss on Penny's
mouth! This was followed―"Mrrrf!"―by the arrival of Mr.
Ball-gag! Bethany thrust the silicon-rubber sphere into
Penny's startled mouth, spun her around, and buckled the strap
at the nape of her neck, under her blond braid.
Penny seriously considered throwing a naked, lightly oiled,
cage-cuffed, and now ball-gagged tantrum, but before she could
act on the impulse, Bethany had unlocked the door, gently pushed
her across the threshold, then closed and locked the door behind
her. Penny faced the door and stamped her right foot on
the carpet in frustration and betrayal. "Mrrrf!"
Then turned to face the room... and her blue eyes widened above
Penny was in a bedroom, a bedroom just as gigantic and luxurious
as her guest bedroom, and with the same over-the-top Gothic
decor. And half under the rumpled covers of the bedroom's
gigantic bed (with colossal, towering, and richly carved
headboard) were Gwyn and Mandy. They were blinking sleep
from their eyes and staring at the newcomer, meaning Penny.
Gwyn was naked (but not lightly oiled). She sat up in bed,
then combed her tousled dark hair from her face with her
fingers. "Oh... there you are," she mumbled.
Mandy was also naked but not oiled, and she was Rada-box-tied
with a ball-gag dangling around her neck. She didn't
bother trying to sit up or make an attempt to clear her tangled
ginger hair from her sleepy face.
"Mrrrf!" Penny complained, stamping her foot, again.
"Yeah, I know, tell me about it," Gwyn sighed, then patted the
surface of the bed. "Come."
Penny heaved an irate sigh, then stomped (padded) to the bed and
sat―"Mrrr!"―then squealed through her gag when
Mandy grabbed her by the waist and hauled her all the way onto
the mattress. She decided there was only one possible
response. She commenced a tirade of well-muffled
complaints, squirming, and kicking.
Gwyn's counter was to wrap her legs around Penny's waist and
cross her ankles over Penny's bellybutton. "Stop that,"
she ordered, untied the black cord securing Penny's braid, then
started unraveling her hair.
Once Penny realized what her naked but bondage-free friend was
doing, she stopped mewling and wiggling, but she wasn't
happy, and everyone on the bed knew it.
Penny remained a naked, cage-cuffed, ball-gagged, and pouting
captive as Gwyn reached for the brush and comb on the bedside
table, then put them to use. With stroke after gentle
stroke, Gwyn straightened Penny's long, blond tresses, pausing
now and then to use the comb to deal with any tangles she
encountered. When she was finished, Penny's hair was
slightly wavier than usual, but that was to be expected after
being braided, soaked, and allowed to dry while still braided.
"Mrrrf," Penny complained as Gwyn tossed the brush and comb back
on the bedside table.
"What's got your nonexistent panties in a twist now?"
"I think she's griping about the gag," Mandy suggested.
Penny found her ginger fellow-prisoner's smile infuriating, but
when Mandy was right, she was right.
Gwyn unbuckled Penny's ball-gag, re-buckled the strap on its
first hole, then released her legs from around Penny's
waist. "You probably need to use the bathroom," she
Penny spat the black silicon-rubber ball from her mouth as she
squirmed off the bed. "You can both bite me!" she huffed,
then stomped (padded) to what had to be the bathroom door.
She fumbled with her cage-cuffed hands, twisted the knob and
opened the door―realized the door actually led to Gwyn's walk-in
closet, slammed it shut―then stomped (padded) to the other bathroom
door, opened it, and stomped (padded) inside.
The bathroom fixtures were manageable―meaning Penny managed to
slake her thirst at the washbasin (which had an unusually tall
faucet), flush the commode after emptying her bladder, then
trigger and endure the commode's bidet function―all with her
wrists cage-cuffed behind her back. She stomped back into
the bedroom and glared at her alleged friends.
Gwyn grinned at Mandy. "She's cute when she gets like
that, isn't she?"
"Cute as a Kattunge," Mandy agreed.
"You can both. Bite! Me!" Penny
huffed, then stomped (padded) to the bed. "Well?"
"Well what?" Gwyn inquired.
"Scoot over!" Penny ordered.
Gwyn and Mandy exchanged another smile, then Gwyn pulled back
the covers and patted the mattress. "There's plenty of
Penny rolled her eyes, sat on the bed, and managed to scoot over
until her back (and cage-cuffed hands) were against Gwyn's body.
Gwyn pulled the covers over all three of them, then rested her
head on her pillow. Soon all three heads were resting on
Several seconds passed.
"So..." Penny asked quietly, "what, exactly, is this 'High Tea'
your mother invited me to?"
"We're all invited," Gwyn answered, "and its all kinds of
finger-sandwiches, various pastries, fruit, cheese... the
"And tea," Mandy added.
Penny couldn't help but smile. "When?"
"Whenever Rada unlocks the door," Gwyn sighed.
Penny considered broaching the subject of when and how the three
of them should mount a swarming attack to take down Rada
Grabhands, but decided she'd rather enjoy that nap Bethany (of
the stunning smile and magnificent, oily hands) had
suggested. She closed her eyes... and drifted off.
|The Perils of Penny Parr