by Van ©2019
		Chapter 6

The Roget Girls arrived home from their breakfast and shopping expedition, exchanged warm, mother/daughter kisses, then retired to their respective bedrooms to change.

Gwyn had no idea what Mandy and Penny might be up to at the moment (meaning she had no idea what unspeakably cruel but ultimately harmless thing Rada might be doing to them) but she wasn't stupid enough to hunt down the giant blond shield-maiden and ask her.  Gwyn smiled.  At least Rada's giving me a pass... for now.

Next, Gwyn removed the tags from the two new dresses she'd bought (meaning Mother had bought for her) and hung them in her walk-in closet.  She then de-tagged the three new panty-and-bra sets she'd also purchased and dropped them in the laundry hamper.  They required gentle washing to remove the sizing still clinging to their delicate fabrics.

Gwyn decided to take a quick shower, change into a bikini, and swim a few laps in the indoor pool (just to keep Rada-the-trainer off her back).  After that, she'd retire to a lounge chair under the shade of the oak near the outdoor pool and read.  She stripped naked, tucked her hair under a black latex swimming-cap to keep it dry during her shower and subsequent swim, laid out a black bikini on the foot of her bed, then padded into the attached bathroom and turned on the shower.

Rada, Gwyn thought as she luxuriated under the cascade of hot water.  Mandy knows her from last summer, and Penny is just getting to know her... but they both have no idea.  They don't know Rada the way I know Rada.

Gwyn had just turned eleven when Mother hired Rada Nørgaard, and the impressively tall, athletic Norwegian had instantly become Gwyn's best friend and confidant.  Their relationship was... unique.  Rada hadn't treated Gwyn like her employer's child, but like her little sister.  In turn, Gwyn considered Rada the big sister (really big sister) she'd never had, and Mother was okay with it.  Bethany Roget had never been snooty with her servants or other employees.

Gwyn remembered Rada telling her stories about growing up in Norway, as well as sharing with her Norse fairy tales and... "The Sagas."  In turn, Gwyn had helped Rada perfect her American, meaning she helped Rada navigate the mysteries of American idioms.  And once Gwyn started attending the Saint Priggette Academy for Girls, when she was home for the holidays Gwyn would share with Rada all the latest gossip (even the juicy stuff she wouldn't tell Mother).

And then there were the wrestling matches... the decidedly uneven wrestling matches.  Again, with Mother's approval, Rada had added Gwyn to her list of physical training clients, bringing it to a grand total of two.  Rada already supervised Mother's exercise program, and now―by Maternal Decree―she developed and implemented a program for Gwyn as well.  Some persuasion was required, but actually, the persuasion in question was more like play than a struggle to overcome genuine resistance on Gwyn's part, and they both knew it.  Anyway, whenever Gwyn resolutely refused to swim the number of required laps, go for a mandatory run, row on the rowing machine, or do whatever Rada ordered her to do... wrestling ensued.  Also tickling, squirming, and a great deal of giggling.

And then there was the bondage.

It started one memorable evening when Gwyn and Rada were watching an episode of Xena: Warrior Princess in the sitting room that had long since been converted to the Manor's media room.  At one point in the episode, Xena's sidekick, Gabrielle (Renee O'Conner), was bound and gagged, and Rada remarked that given half a chance she could have done a much better job of tying her up (meaning Gabby).  Gwyn (who was 14 at the time) agreed, but boasted that she'd be able to escape from any such bondage, no matter who was tying the knots.  Rada smiled... Gwyn smiled back... and wrestling ensued.  When the metaphorical dust settled, Gwyn found herself with her wrists crossed and tied behind her back, her ankles crossed and tied together, a wadded handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, and a narrowly folded scarf tied as a cleave-gag to keep it there.  Rada gave Gwyn 'til the end of the closing credits to escape.  She didn't, so Rada carried her upstairs to her bedroom and gave her further time to hone her escapology skills.  Gwyn squirmed and struggled on the bed for an hour... until Rada returned and set her free.

That was the first time.  There had been many other "lessons" since, and as soon as Gwyn turned 18, Rada began insisting that her student should be naked while "learning the ropes."  And given the mismatch in size and strength, Rada always got her way.

Also, Gwyn wasn't stupid.  It was an open secret that the Roget family had been into bondage since... forever.  Gwyn was heiress to a legacy of kinky bondage fun, and she'd known that since she was tiny, well before she knew what "kinky bondage fun" actually meant.

For one thing, Gwyn had noticed the "subtle" straps and/or padded clamps on all the exercise equipment in the gym, all strategically placed to ensure that whoever was using any of the machines could be restrained in the appropriate position.  Gwyn, herself, regularly used all of the machines in question, but Rada had never insisted that she employ the "safety straps."

And then there was the time Gwyn had been home from school, passed the gym on her way to the pool, and found her mother strapped to the Nautilus-style universal resistance machine and executing a series of leg-lifts.  Mother was wearing a pair of black, thigh-length spandex shorts, a pink, sleeveless leotard, and a ball-gag!  Also, the machine's padded leather restraints had been deployed and buckled around her wrists, ankles, and waist.  Bethany's exercise clothes were significantly sweat-stained, her flushed, pale skin dripping with sweat, and her ball-gagged face grimacing as she strained to lift her straightened legs and bare feet.  Thankfully, Mother's eyes were clenched tightly closed, so she didn't notice her bikini-clad, wide-eyed daughter standing frozen in the doorway in amazed silence.  Rada's back was turned and she was concentrating on her employer's performance, so she didn't notice Gwyn either.  Gwyn watched for several seconds... then tiptoed away.  Wow!  Yuk!

And then there was the BIG clue that, as a family, the Roget's were kinky: The Dungeons.

Gwyn knew the manor had dungeons―she'd always known the manor had dungeons―but she'd never been allowed to explore said dungeons, no matter how hard she begged.  Mother was adamant: "No children in the dungeons!"  The iron gate was always kept locked, only Rada had the key, and no amount of whining and cajoling on Gwyn's part would make the grinning Norwegian budge an inch.

That was another thing that changed when Gwyn turned 18.  On one memorable summer day, while Mother was away from the house and attending what Gwyn was sure was a very boring luncheon in town with a gaggle of her semi-elderly friends, Rada pounced!  She stripped Gwyn naked, tied her up (Rada-box-tie, crossed and bound ankles, and ball-gag), hoisted her over her shoulder, carried her through the manor to the basement... then down to the dungeons!

Rada unlocked the iron gate―Click!  Creeeeeee!―then carried her naked, bound, and wide-eyed burden through the gate and across the fully equipped torture chamber beyond!  Gwyn kicked, squirmed, and mewled through her ball-gag!  Rada wasn't slowing down!  She wasn't giving her a chance to get a good look at all the fun furnishings!  And then, Gwyn was carried down a stone corridor and past a seemingly endless series of heavy wooden doors, all elaborately banded with iron.

Their ultimate destination was a fifteen by fifteen foot cell Rada apparently chose at random.  She unlocked, unbolted, and opened the door―Click!  Thud!  Creeeeeee!―then carried Gwyn inside, deposited her on the thick layer of dry straw covering the stone floor, then locked an iron collar around her neck!  Click!  One end of a ten foot chain was attached to the collar, and the other to an iron ring solidly embedded in the wall!  Gwyn was sure she'd never forget what Rada said next, not as long as she lived.

"Your mother doesn't know I'm doing this, but I think it's time, my precious little Valp.  And if you're wondering why you're tied up, when the collar and chain alone are enough to keep you where Rada has placed you... and why you're gagged, when no one can possibly hear you scream, no matter how loudly you try... the ropes and gag are like the icing on an already delicious cake."

Gwyn watched in "horror" (ignoring the thrill quivering between her legs) as Rada strolled across the straw to the open door, turned, paused in the threshold, and smiled.

"Once your mother returns home, I wonder how many hours will pass before she asks me where you are.  I'll tell her you mentioned you might go hiking this afternoon.  That will probably satisfy her until it begins to grow dark.  After that..."

And then, Rada took a step back and closed, bolted, and locked the door.  Creeeeeee!  Thunk!  Click!

That was Gwyn's first extended stay in the Family Dungeons, and it was certainly memorable.  There had been countless visits since, of course, but Gwyn still didn't have her own key, nor had she been allowed to fully explore the entire dungeon.  There were still many mysteries waiting down below, even for the daughter of the household.

Gwyn smiled as she turned off the water (and ignored the delicate shiver quivering between her legs).  Time for that swim.  She used a fluffy towel to dry herself... then padded into the bedroom.  The bikini was waiting for her right where she'd left it.  Gwyn padded to the bed―"Mrrrpfh!"―and a hand clamped over her mouth and she was grabbed from behind!

It was another perfectly executed Rada ambush, of course.  Gwyn stopped struggling and stood perfectly still in Rada's warm, strong, restraining embrace.  "Mrrr?"  ("Well?")

"Do you want to do this the easy way, Valp... or the hard way?" Rada purred, then released her hand-gag.

Gwyn heaved a sigh and frowned.  "Easy way or hard way" meant that whatever Rada had planned in her devious and dominant mind required at least some cooperation on Gwyn's part.  It also implied that if she failed to cooperate, the final result would be worse.

"Easy way," Gwyn sighed.

"Good girl," Rada chuckled, kissed the top of Gwyn's black latex swim-cap, then released her hold.  "On the bed," she ordered.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, turned, and noted that her attacker was wearing an abbreviated version of one of her black exercise outfits: black spandex exercise shorts (mid thigh length) and a black sports bra.  Her perfect, gunboat-sized feet were bare and her blond hair parted down the middle and plaited in twin braids.  Gwyn heaved a slightly worried sigh.  Rada often gave herself "Viking braids" when she was feeling especially frisky.

Since Gwyn's only other choice would be to renege on her promise to cooperate (and thereby suffer the dire consequences), she reclined full-length on her bed, then watched as Rada retrieved a black nylon gym-bag from where she'd stashed it before executing her Rada Attack, unzipped the zipper, and pulled out a rolled bundle of black material.  Smiling her usual predatory smile, the giant beauty unrolled the bundle, revealing what Gwyn recognized as a sleepsack made from Darlex, a thin layer of neoprene rubber sandwiched between layers of spandex.  It was more-or-less the result of a mating between a tight-fitting mummy sleeping bag and a rather restrictive diver's wetsuit.  Gwyn was familiar with various versions of both the fabric and the "garment" in question.

This sleepsack was new, as Gwyn's previous sack had been royal blue, much to her chagrin.  At least this one's black, she sighed as Rada pulled the sack over her feet.  I always look better in black.  She heaved another sigh and lay perfectly still.

This was the true start of the cooperation Gwyn had promised.  She suspected it would probably be exceedingly difficult to incarcerate a struggling damsel in a sleepsack without her cooperation, even for The Amazing Norwegian She-Hulk.  Of course, beforehand, the damsel in question could have been tied up so tightly and elaborately she couldn't even squirm.  That would certainly have made Rada's job easier.  And now that she thought about it, that was probably the "hard way" option of the bargain she'd struck with her grinning captor,  Oh well.  Gwyn sighed, again.  She was sure she'd made the right choice.

The sleepsack had long, tight-fitting sleeves sewn into its interior, to encase and hold the occupant's arms at her sides from fingertips to armpits.  And if sliding an uncooperative damsel's feet into the sack's lower region would have been difficult, sliding her arms into the sleeves would have been doubly so.  In any case, it was a moot point.  Gwyn was cooperating.  She slid her fingers, hands, wrists, and arms into the sleeves in question.

Soon, the sack was stretched all the way over Gwyn's body from toes to shoulders, and Rada closed the long, vertical zipper that ran from her mid-thigh region and all the way up to her throat.

Oh-by-the-way, prior to closing the zipper, Rada had inserted a plastic vibrator the size and shape of a small chicken egg inside Gwyn's vagina!  This had required a modest dollop of lubricant, some mortified blushing on Gwyn's part, and had proved a serious test of her will to cooperate... but Gwyn persevered... meaning she allowed Rada to slide the cool, smooth egg into her pussy.

Once the zipper was all the way up, Rada clicked the spring-loaded fob down on itself, thus ensuring the zipper would remain all the way at the top, no matter what.  Gwyn executed the required and expected "courtesy struggle."  She twisted and squirmed for a few seconds, thus confirming that she wasn't going to be able to wiggle her way out of the sleepsack.  It was a really tight fit.  The black, ¹/₈"-thick material hugged her entire body as if she'd been cocooned by a giant spider.  Apparently, Mother (or Rada) had found a manufacturer that carried custom fitting beyond the usual small, medium, and large and all the way to height and dress size.  From the neck down, every square inch of Gwyn's body was being uniformly squeezed.

"Excellent!" Rada gushed, then reached back into the gym-bag and pulled out a pink, 4" Nerf ball!

"Rada!" Gwyn whined.  "I hate those things."

"Hush, Valp," Rada chuckled, then compacted the ball in her fist and eased it into Gwyn's pouting mouth.  "Hold that for Rada," she requested (ordered).

Gwyn clenched her jaws, following Rada's instruction, and watched as Rada pulled a pair of bandage scissors and a roll of Microfoam tape from the bag.

Gwyn's blue eyes widened with interest.  The tape was black.  Where did Rada find black medical tape?  Gwyn had no idea and would have liked to ask, but at the moment her entire mouth was stuffed (in anatomical detail) with a ball of re-expanded, medium-density, pink foam.

And then, Rada snipped free and stretched a wide, generous strip of the black tape across Gwyn's entire lower face, from her nose to her chin and from ear to ear.  She then smoothed the tape with her strong, tan fingers, ensuring the adhesive had a good grip, sealing Gwyn's lips, and rendering the expulsion of the Nerf ball quite impossible.

Next, Rada reached back into her black nylon cornucopia of bondage goodies and produced a "Gwen-hood," the kind that completely cover its wearer's head and leave only an oval opening that exposes her upper face, specifically, the lower half of her forehead, her eyes, and her nose.  This particular Gwen-hood was black Darlex and matched the new sleepsack.  Gwyn assumed they were both made by the same manufacturer. Getting the thing on Gwyn's head took a little doing on Rada's part.  Gwyn continued cooperating by holding still, but Rada had to stretch and tug and stretch and tug until she was satisfied with the hood's skintight fit.

And then, Gwyn stared in amazement as Rada giggled and clapped her strong, tan hands together with uncharacteristically girlish glee.  "Oh, fantastisk!" the amazon gushed.  "I was afraid the tape or your swimmer's bonnet might show, but both are completely hidden.  Utmerket!"

Yeah, it's 'utmerket' as hell, Gwyn silently fumed, then watched as Rada reached into the gym-bag, once again... and this time pulled out a rattling bundle of black nylon webbing and black plastic snap-buckles.  Gwyn knew exactly what the thing was, wasn't at all surprised by its appearance, and could do nothing to prevent Rada from putting it to its intended use.

It was a full-body-harness!  And when Rada had finished rolling Gwyn's Darlex-encased body on the bed, as required, arranging the webbing straps, clicking the many snap-buckles closed, and tightening its many straps by vripping them through the friction clamp portions of the buckles, Gwyn was Darlex-encased and fully harnessed from her shoulders to her ankles.  A row of ten steel rings separated by short, vertical lengths of webbing ran down the front, a pair of diagonal straps yoked her shoulders and were attached to the top ring, and all ten rings had horizontal straps that encircled her body at regular intervals.  Specifically, around her...

1. Chest, above her breasts;
2. Chest, below her breasts;
3. Waist;
4. Hips;
5. Upper thighs;
6. Mid thighs;
7. Lower thighs, above her knees;
8. Lower legs, below her knees;
9. Mid lower legs;
10. Ankles.

In the back, the free ends from the friction-clamps of the snap-buckles all tucked into convenient sleeves in the straps, for neatness sake.

Also, the snap-buckles were special, in that they could be (and now were) locked.  Rada had inserted a small key/tool into disks set in each buckle, and given them a twist.  Each time, the disk rotated, there was a quiet click, and the buckle locked.  This was for security's sake, of course.

Gwyn decided another courtesy struggle was in order.  She squirmed, bucked, rolled from side to side, and tried to bend her knees and her waist, all with decidedly limited success.  Adding an elaborate web harness that was tight enough to dimple the outer surface of an already inescapable Darlex sheath was gross overkill!  But, of course, that was entirely the point.

And speaking of overkill...

Rada returned to the gym-bag, again, smiled, and pulled out a steel collar!

Gwyn's eyes popped wide!  It was one of those scary cable-collars: six horizontal hoops of steel rope separated by vertical steel spacing bars and closed by means of a pair of curved, vertical plates.  The collar locked by means of a curved hasp/double-pin that slid through a pair of holes in the front plates and snapped into the flush-mounted body of a brass padlock!  And this particular collar had a steel ring in the front, obviously for the purpose of tethering its wearer!

"Mrrrpf!" Gwyn complained.

Rada continued smiling (of course), unlocked the padlock and removed the hasp/pin, fit the collar around Gwyn's neck, slid the hasp/pin back into the front plates, and snapped the padlock closed.

Gwyn's neck was now encased by three layers:

1. The Darlex collar of the sleepsack;
2. The Darlex collar of the Gwen-hood;
3. The steel cable-collar.

"The collar is so you can't unzip yourself," Rada explained.

Gwyn stared at her grinning captor in incredulous disbelief.  Unzip myself?  The only way Gwyn could possibly unzip herself would be by suddenly developing telekinetic powers.  Apparently, Rada wanted to safeguard against just that possibility.

Surprisingly, the cable-collar was comfortable, although Gwyn conceded that 'comfortable' probably wasn't her best choice of words.  It was restrictive, but not tall enough to qualify as an actual posture collar.  Also, Rada had selected the precise size appropriate for a petite damsel already wearing two layers of Darlex.  Another example of her legendary competence as a rigger.

"Fantastisk," Rada sighed, smiling down at the Darlex-cocooned, harnessed, gagged, Gwen-hooded, and cable-collared daughter of the House of Roget.

Gwyn stared up at her tall, tan, gorgeous captor.  I suppose she's entitled to gloat, Gwyn mused.  As 'entertainment scenarios' go, this one is pretty good.

Rada continued smiling... and gloating.

Just great, Gwyn sighed.  She's gonna leave me here to roll around on my own bed for the entire day.  Gwyn was very much aware of the egg Rada had lodged in her pussy.  And she's gonna 'torture' me with that thing... via WiFi.

Still smiling, Rada leaned forward and scooped Gwyn's cocooned, harnessed, gagged, hooded, and cable-collared form into her arms, turned, and carried her from the bedroom, the way a groom carries a cocooned, harnessed, gagged, hooded, and cable-collared bride across the threshold.

Gwyn blinked in surprise.  Or not.  Obviously, she wouldn't be languishing in her bedroom.

Their destination was...  Mother's bedroom!  Gwyn began struggling and mewling through her tape/Nerf-gag.  "Mrrrrrf!"  Rada's only reaction was a wry twist added to her smile.

It was a little awkward, but Rada managed to control the squirming but totally helpless Gwyn while she unlocked and opened the bedroom door.

Rada's eyes popped even wider and she stared in disbelief and horror!

Bethany Roget's bedroom was appropriate for the Mistress of the Manor.  It was large enough to hold group meetings and was decorated with the same Gothic excess as the rest of the mansion.  The bed was both titanic and Royal, meaning it had the kind of elaborate carved headboard and ridiculously expensive and tapestry-like silk bed-skirts and canopy as the beds European monarchs used to have custom built for their State Bedrooms.  The mattress was a "Californa King"... or bigger... and comfortably reclined on said mattress, her upper body cushioned by a pile of pillows and bolsters, was Bethany Roget, herself!

Oh-by-the-way, Gwyn's mom was cocooned, harnessed, Gwen-hooded, and cable-collared in an identical manner as her daughter, with the same black Darlex, black nylon webbing, and shining steel!  "Mrrrgh!"  And apparently, she was also gagged under her hood.

Now both cocooned, harnessed, gagged, hooded, and cable-collared Roget Girls were squirming, struggling, and mewling as Rada carried Gwyn across the cavernous expanse to the bed... then gently deposited her burden.  Now, Gwyn was on her back with her gagged, hooded, and wide-eyed head resting on her mother's Darlex-encased and nylon-webbing-harnessed lap.

Gwyn and Bethany stopped struggling and mewling and locked eyes.  Gwyn stared up at her helpless mother, and Bethany stared down at her identically restrained and equally helpless daughter.

"Yes, it is a good day for mother-daughter bonding," Rada explained.  "Don't you agree, ladies?"

Mother and daughter turned their heads to stare at the smiling, gloating, statuesque Norwegian.  Rada's smile was evil, predatory, and strikingly beautiful.  Her arms were crossed under her black spandex-covered breasts, which were sporting a prominent pair of pokies.

Pokies and Viking braids, Gwyn mused.  Rada's frisky and horny.  This isn't good... for anybody... except Rada.

Still smiling, Rada padded to the right bedside table and picked up the small tablet-remote Bethany used to control her bedroom's lighting, sound system, and the gigantic flat-screen HDTV currently hiding behind a hanging tapestry across the room.  The Roget Girls watched nervously as Rada started tapping and sliding her way through menus on the remote's small touchscreen.

The two pairs of worried blue eyes continued watching from the bed as Rada's smile turned mischievous and she shifted her smile to her prisoners.  "Dear me," Rada purred, "I've quite forgotten which egg is in which damsel.  I can't remember who is 'Control Channel A' and who is 'Control Channel B.'"  Her smile shifted from mischievous to wicked.  "But does it really matter?"  She tapped the screen a final time, then returned the remote to the bedside table.

And then, Rada turned on her bare heels and padded gracefully from the bedroom.

Mother and daughter stared at the now closed bedroom door (and its over-the-top, elaborate carvings), there was a pause... then they heard the click of the door being locked.  They heaved simultaneous sighs... and their eyes locked, once again.

Well... this is new, Gwyn thought as she stared into her mother's beautiful blue eyes.  She noted Mother's forehead was glowing, meaning was shining with a patina of sweat.  Mine probably is too, Gwyn reasoned.  This was the first time mother and daughter had shared one of Rada's predicaments.  Gwyn had seen her mother in bondage before, many times, and Mother had certainly seen her, but this was their first shared experience.  And Rada had said Mother was also sporting an egg!  Oh, yuk!

Suddenly, Bethany's eyes popped wide and she flinched in her bonds.  At the same time, Gwyn became aware of a exceedingly quiet and barely perceptible vibrating hum!  Whatever it was, it was humming against the back of her hooded head, and she knew it could only be one thing: Mother's egg!  Oh, double yuk!  The vibrations arrived in pulsing waves... and her mom was starting to shiver and squirm... and it didn't show any sign of stopping!  Yuuuuk!  Like mother, like daughter!  Yuk-yuk-yuk!

Bethany continued shivering and squirming and the egg kept pulsing.  Gwyn knew the insidious ovoids were Bluetooth devices and that somewhere, one of the manor's servers was executing an "entertainment program," and there was nothing either one of them could do about it!  Also, ominously, it was only a matter of time until―"Mrk!"

It happened!  Now Gwyn's egg was vibrating!  And she was feeling the full effects, firsthand, as opposed to the secondhand effects from Mother's egg that were being transmitted through her mother's thighs, sleepsack, and web-harness!

Now, both Roget Girls were wiggling and squirming, as well as sweating and panting.

Too far! Gwyn silently fumed.  This time she's gone too far!  We have to do something about Rada!

The mechanical rack machine had stretched poor, naked, helpless, and suffering Penny precisely... several times.  Truth be told, she wasn't even trying to keep track of how many times the drum had slooowly turned and stretched her poor, naked, helpless body to its very limit... then relaxed... then stretched her in the exact same way... over and over again!  It was horrible!  And she didn't care one fig if Beebe scolded her or Suki punished her for not bothering to keep count.  Not!  One!  Fig!

Anyway, it had been going on for... hours!  (Time was something else Penny wasn't bothering to monitor.)

Poor Penny didn't know how much more of this mechanical torture she could take.  She was seriously considering fainting, swooning, passing out, or even developing an advanced case of the vapors... but so so far her brain wasn't cooperating.

And worst of all, the only plans she was coming up with for capturing Rada Grabhands involved stealing from Beebe's extensive collection of pharmaceuticals suitable for rendering kidnap targets unconscious.  Dr. Bondage (and Aunt Suki) had various formulations of "sleepy-gas" and quick-acting anesthetics suitable for blowgun or pistol darts at their disposal... but none of that stuff was available to Poor Penny at Spooky Roget Manor.  Of course, there was always the possibility that Gwyn and Mandy would suddenly reveal themselves to be highly trained ninja-kidnappers, but that was a fantasy, not a plan.  Anyway, Penny was getting nowhere... literally.

Suddenly―Click!  Thunk!  Creeeeeee!―the chamber door (with elaborate iron bands) opened and Penny turned her gagged and sweaty head.  Was Rada returning to the scene of her crime for more gloating?  Maybe Gwyn's mom was arriving to give her another massage.  Actually―"Mrrrf?"―and surprisingly, it was Mandy, and she was alone and naked, but neither bound nor gagged.

"I'm Luke Skywalker!  I'm here to rescue you!" Mandy proclaimed, then blushed and giggled.  "I always wanted to say that," she confessed.

Penny blinked at her smiling "rescuer."  That was all very well and good, but Penny had issues―Click-clunk!―like the mechanical rack currently stretching her naked, glistening, straining body to its very limit.

"Mrrrpfh!"  ("Get on with it!")

"Sorry," Mandy chuckled, then scampered to the rack's control panel.  Penny noticed that her ginger savior had a ring of keys in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other.  Mandy unfolded and consulted the paper, shifted her green-eyed stare to the panel, then back to the paper.  "I think this is the right one," she muttered.

Actually, Mandy was pulling Penny's chain (so to speak).  There was only one prominent T-shaped lever on the panel labelled 'MASTER OFF.'  "Wish me luck," Mandy sighed, then threw the lever.

Penny's eyes widened.  Wish YOU luck?

Apparently, Mandy had made the correct choice, because―Click-rattle-whirrr-thunk-click-clunk-snap!―the rack returned Penny to the unstretched/beginning/loosely-spreadeagled position... then stopped moving completely.

Mandy sorted through the keys and unlocked both Penny's suspension padlocks and the pillory, then unbuckled the cuffs, lifted the pillory's the top beam, freeing her ankles, helped the victim-of-the-rack sit up, then parted Penny's blond locks and unbuckled and removed her ball-gag.

"That was not fun," Penny groused.

"I know," Mandy replied.

Penny turned to her rescuer with a quizzical expression, then sighed.  "Last summer?"

Mandy nodded.  "Been there, done that."  She took hold of Penny's right hand.  "Up you go."

With Mandy's help Penny managed to stand without her wobbly knees collapsing out from under her.  She was tingling all over, especially in her joints, but wasn't particularly sore... yet.

"Sauna," Mandy suggested (ordered).

"Sauna?" Penny inquired.

"It'll help."  Mandy led her unsteady, sweaty, wincing friend from the Auto-Rack Chamber.  "And stop being such a drama queen.  It's only being tortured on the rack."

"Well excuse me!" Penny exclaimed as they padded through the dungeon... then up the stairs... then across the basement.  They paused only long enough to clean their feet at the deep-sink, not wanting to track dungeon-dirt all over Bethany's carpets, then continued up the stairs to the kitchen and on to the Massage/Sauna Room off the gym.

Mandy had planned ahead by powering up the sauna before her trek to the dungeons to rescue her blond friend, so, after a quick rinse under the shower, they opened the cedar door and were met by a wall of hot, dry air.  They used the sauna's bucket, ladle, and wood-handled water faucet to wet an upper tier of cedar benches, then reclined against sloping backrests in opposite corners.

"You sure I shouldn't be soaking in an ice bath?" Penny inquired.

Mandy smiled.  "I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but the Auto-Rack doesn't really stretch your joints to the limit... just almost to the limit."

"That's easy for you to say," Penny muttered.

Mandy's smile took a wry twist.  "Last summer, remember?"

"Oh," Penny conceded.  "I guess it is easy for you to say."  She nodded at the cooler built into one of the benches.  "I don't suppose..."

"Yes, I stocked it," Mandy replied, then leaped down, opened the lid, and tossed Penny an ice cold plastic bottle of "Cool Breeze" Gatorade.

"Perfect!" Penny grinned, twisted off the cap, took a generous chug of the blue beverage, then gasped!  "Arrrgh!  Brain freeze!"

"Serves you right," Mandy chuckled as she returned to her seat, twisted the cap off a green bottle of "Lemon-Lime" Gatorade, and took a careful, refreshing sip.

The two friends continued basking in the dry heat, replenishing their electrolytes, and sweating like proverbial horses for several minutes, then...

"Mandy?" Penny inquired.

"Penny?" Mandy replied.

"We need to talk."

Mandy smiled.  "We are talking."

"Shut up.  It's about Rada."

"The tall Norwegian who strips us naked and ties us up?" Mandy suggested.

"The very same," Penny solemnly confirmed, "although lately she hasn't had to do much stripping."

"True that," Mandy agreed, then took a green sip from her now nearly empty bottle.

Penny took a blue sip from her also nearly empty bottle before continuing.  "We need to do something about Rada."

Mandy drank the last of her Gatorade, restored the cap, set the empty bottle next to her lightly freckled, glistening thigh on the bench, then closed her eyes.  "We're like a pair of mice discussing how to put a bell on the cat," she sighed.

Penny smiled.  "True that, but it needs doing.  We need to take her down."

Mandy opened one eye.  "You're not having fun?"

Penny rolled her eyes.  "I'm having a blast.  I just want to have different fun."

Mandy closed her eye, again.  That sounds like my Penny.  "I'll think about it... meaning taking down the Norwegian Troll."

Penny chuckled.  "'Norwegian Troll.'  I like that.  Of course... we'll have to get Gwyn with the program."

"Positively," Mandy agreed.

"Yeah."  Penny drank the last of her Gatorade, restored the cap, and set her bottle next to her pale, sweaty thigh.  She then gazed at her ginger-haired rescuer/friend... and frowned.  "Are you getting more freckles?" she demanded.

Dinner that night was delivery pizza.  Penny supposed that was reasonable.  Rada couldn't be expected to cook elaborate meals and torture Bethany's house-guests all day every day.  Even Norwegian Trolls need a break now and then.  And it was nice to discover the Roget's could let their hair down and enjoy pizza and beer (and salad) without making it a State Dinner with formal place settings and napkins of fine linen.

Anyway, it was delivery pizza from an establishment that emblazoned "Halcyon Lake Pizza" on their boxes, and it was delicious.

The name reminded Penny of something else.  "Tell me about this lake you guys went to for breakfast," she asked Bethany and Gwyn.  She pointed to one of the three large, slightly greasy, open cardboard boxes on the table.  "Is that it?  Halcyon Lake?"

"The same," Gwyn confirmed, then took a bite from her slice of Veggie Special.

"Do they rent boats?" Penny inquired.

"Looking for something to row other than the Magic Christian?" Mandy purred.

Penny rolled her eyes and took a bite of Pepperoni and Italian Sausage, chewed, and swallowed.  "Anything but the Magic Christian."  (Penny remembered that 'Magic Christian' was the established nickname of the sinister, kinky, Jules Verne rowing machine bolted to the floor of the Roget Manor Gymnasium & Damsel Torturing Parlor.)

"I believe there is a place that rents canoes, kayaks, and rowboats for fishing," Rada purred.  She was dining with the family (and Bethany's guests) as it was her night off (from cooking).

"But no slave galleys," Gwyn chuckled, smiling sweetly at Penny.

"Very funny," Penny huffed.  By the way, she'd noticed Gwyn and her mother exchanging what might be embarrassed looks all evening, but had no idea why.

Rada was dressed in one of her black exercise outfits, which apparently was her go-to look when she wasn't a Viking Dominatrix.  Bethany and Gwyn were in jeans and blouses, and Penny and Mandy were in their birthday suits.

"Why?" Mandy inquired, looking at Penny.

"Why what?" Penny responded, then took a sip from her beer (Sam Adams Light).

"The lake," Mandy clarified.

Penny shrugged.  "I thought it might be fun to see something around here other than the dungeons."

"You don't like my dungeons?" Bethany chuckled.  "Oh, Penny.  You wound me."

Penny smiled at her hostess.  She couldn't help it.  "They're very nice dungeons.  I was just hoping to get out a little."

Gwyn and Mandy shook their heads while Bethany and Rada smiled.

"Hazing Week," Gwyn noted.  "Remember?"

"Five days," Mandy added. "Hazing Week."

Penny was secretly thrilled to learn that her "Hazing Week" would be a mere five days, as opposed to seven, but she still wanted to get out a little.

Apparently, the others could tell Penny was disappointed.

"I know!" Mandy said, turning to Rada.  "You could bind and gag her, pop her in the trunk of one of the sedans, and take her for a drive around the lake."

Rada smiled.  Everyone smiled except Penny.  "Maybe she would like some company, Fox," Rada suggested.  "Maybe I bind and gag and pop you in the trunk as well."

"No thanks," Mandy responded, then took another bite of pizza.

The informal pizza feast continued without Penny being granted even a temporary reprieve from Hazing Week... and she still needed an opportunity to enlist (or conscript) Gwyn in her conspiracy to take down Rada Grabhands, the Norwegian Troll.