by Van ©2019
		Chapter 8

During their journey to... wherever the hell Poor Penny Parr was being dragged by Rada Grabhands the Norwegian Troll, her handler was considerate enough to stop at a first floor bathroom so Penny could empty her bladder.  The naked, bound, ball-gagged, and head-bagged captive assumed it was a "Powder Room," placed there by the architect for the convenience of the Roget family's party guests―and the commode didn't have a bidet function.  That allowed Penny to add having her nether region scrubbed clean by a giant blond amazon with a cold, wet washcloth to her list of life experiences.

It was humiliating―as was being naked―as was having her wrists crossed and lashed to the small of her back by a tight wrist/belly-rope―as was being ball-gagged―as was being blindfolded by the light-proof black bag currently covering her head―and as was having her nipples pinched by clover-clamps.

And speaking of those damn clover-clamps...

Penny was no longer sure the clover-clamps Rada was using to keep her (and especially her nipples) under control were real clover-clamps.  Penny (and especially her nipples) already had experience with real clover-clamps.  Real clover-clamps were spring-loaded, and the springs were strong enough to maintain a proper grip on her nipples, even when somebody wasn't tugging on their connecting chain.  But when somebody was tugging on the connecting chain, they really tightened.  Real clover-clamps burned a little all the time, but they did a lot more than burn when force was applied.  In fact, they hurt like hell when somebody (Aunt Suki, for example) pulled on their chain.

The tit-jewelry currently pinching Penny's nips had the appropriate weight and feel of clover-clamps, they flopped around like clover-clamps, and they did hurt when Rada pulled on the chain, but they didn't hurt like hell.  Either they'd been cleverly modified or purposefully designed to hurt less than real clover-clamps.

Not that Penny minded that her nips weren't being abused, of course, it was just something she noted.  Also, it was supporting evidence for a hypothesis Penny was forming about the state of affairs at Spooky Roget Manor.

Bethany's amazing collection of BDSM toys and play-furniture was unarguably impressive, but Penny was coming to believe it had all been purchased and/or custom designed and manufactured with a carefully defined limit in mind, and that limit was below Penny's upper limit.

And that was not to imply that back in the townhouse Penny shared with Gwyn and Mandy during the academic year they tortured each other 'til the bottom du jour screamed in agony.  Nor did it imply that, during her kidnapping-for-hire training at the hands of Cousin Beebe and/or Aunt Suki, Penny was tortured 'til she screamed in agony.

In the first instance, Penny, Gwyn, and Mandy's off-campus housing didn't come equipped with dungeons and torture engines.  Penny and her friends played with rope and duct-tape.  Two ball-gags and exactly one panel-gag was the full extent of the girl's shared bondage gear collection.  And while being a meanie was part of the game, Penny and her friends were playing for fun, not to cause pain.

In the second instance, Beebe and Suki's various lairs were well-stocked with tons of clever and expensive BDSM toys (including real clover-clamps), and while Beebe and Suki took things to a much more intense level than anything that ever happened at either the townhouse or Roget Manor (so far), Dr. Bondage had brought the do no harm rule of her Hippocratic oath with her when she started her second career as a kidnapper-for-hire.  No blood.  No permanent marks.  No harm.  Not.  Ever.

The point was, in Penny's ever-growing experience, the townhouse was at one level, Cousin Beebe and Aunt Suki were at a higher lever, and Roget Manor was somewhere in between, and the clamps currently gripping Penny's nipples were not up to Aunt Suki's exacting standards.

And then, Penny had a chilling thought (which did not counteract the burn of the clamps in question).  She'd forgotten the time factor.  Beebe's rule was that real nipple-clamps were to be inflicted on kidnap-victims/playmates for no longer than 30 minutes.  One hour, tops.  So, if her current clamps were "wimpy," did that mean it was "okay" to wear them for longer periods?  Maybe Bethany (and by extension, Rada) weren't being nicer, just different.

I need a more complicated system for categorizing my play-venues, Penny decided, something complicated.  Something... multi-dimensional.

Anyway... Penny's tit-squeezers might be wimpy, but they were more than enough to insure her obedience―"Mrf!" ("Ow!")―like now, with Rada dragging her through the mansion and into what she decided was almost certainly the kitchen.

Rada planted Penny's butt in a chair, then folded up the lower part of the head-bag until Penny's chin, ball-gagged-mouth, and nose were exposed.  Somehow, the bag could be secured in place, making it both a combination skullcap and effective blindfold.  Penny wasn't sure how that happened, but Velcro may have been involved.  A clever design, she conceded.  I'll have to steal one of these things and send it to Cousin Beebe.  She's always on the lookout for well-designed gear.

Breakfast followed, and once again, the only thing on the menu was the same disgustingly healthy cereal (rolled oats, nuts, fruit, etc., swimming in soy milk) as before.  Penny had never been a big fan of breakfast cereal, and if asked she'd deny it, but she was developing a taste for the stuff.  She made a mental note to ask Gwyn what it was called.

As for breakfast conversation... there was none.  Penny might be blindfolded, but she knew without any doubt that Rada was smiling and gloating as she shoveled spoonfuls of disgustingly healthy, yummy goodness into Penny's pouting mouth.  What the Norwegian Troll wasn't doing was talking, and Penny wasn't either.  Penny had nothing to say.  Should she demand to know what Rada was gonna do to her?  Accuse her of being a literally gigantic pain in the butt?  Threatening dire but unlikely and unspecified consequences if Rada didn't release her immediately?  What was the point?  All of that would be a complete waste of breath, and worse yet, it would be unforgivably cliché.  Penny hated being cliché.  Cliché gloating was another matter.  Cliché gloating was just fine.  But cliché whining?  Never!

Eventually, as the saying goes, all disgustingly healthy but yummy breakfasts come to an end.  Rada tipped the bowl so Penny could slurp the remaining cereal-contaminated soy-milk into her mouth.  Then―"Mrrrf!"―the ball-gag was back in place and the head-bag cinched around her neck.  Penny sat in her chair and listened while Rada rinsed the bowl and spoon at the kitchen sink, then―"MRK!"―responded to the tug on her semi-wimpy clover-clamps by leaping to her bare feet and "allowing" her overly tall bitch of a captor to lead her towards the door to the basement.

Rada made sure Penny negotiated the basement stairs safely... they crossed the basement... Rada made sure Penny negotiated the dungeon stairs safely... then continued through the dungeon.  Either being blindfolded/head-bagged was messing with her perception, or this was Penny's longest dungeon trek yet.  The repeated owies when Rada signaled left or right turns by tugging on her tit-jewelry might also have been influencing her ability to concentrate.  They certainly weren't improving her mood.

Finally, they stopped and―Click!  Thunk!  Creeeee!―Rada unlocked a door, threw the bolt, and opened the door on oil-hungry hinges.  And then―"Mrrrf!"―Rada scooped Penny's naked, bound, gagged, and head-bagged body into her arms and carried her across the threshold into... wherever they were.

Over the next couple of minutes―"Mrrrpfh!  Mrrrm!  Nrrrk!  Mrrrf!"―Penny squirmed and fought, but couldn't prevent Rada from untying her hemp rope bonds (which she actually wanted to happen), nor could she prevent Rada from securing her on her back with steel manacles binding her wrists and steel shackles binding her ankles (which she did not want to happen)!  The clinking and clanking that accompanied she struggles suggested attached chains.  The result was Poor Penny Parr bound in a relatively stringent spreadeagle on a hard wooden surface.  Granted, the edges of the steel restraints were smooth and rounded and fit her relevant anatomy with precision, but Penny was not a happy camper.  "Mrrrrrrrf!"

There was a pause while Rada gloated (at least that was what Penny assumed was happening).  Then, Penny heard the clinking and clattering of a dangling chain, as well as repeated metallic clicking and clacking noises from somewhere overhead.  She surmised Rada was hauling on the chain in question.  She'd done the same thing while cranking up the main counterweight and "priming" the self-tightening torture rack that had been the main event of Day Two.  Was Penny spreadeagled on another automatic damsel stretcher?  No way.  Penny would be very disappointed if that was the case (as well as terrified and distressed), but there was no way Bethany (or whichever Roget ancestors had procured the current fun-time entertainment device) could possibly be that unoriginal.  No way.  This had to be something else, maybe something equally complicated and mechanical, but not another auto-rack.

The clattering continued... and now Penny realized Rada was grunting as she hauled on the chain (assuming that was what was happening).  If Rada was, indeed, lifting a counterweight, it had to be a big-honking counterweight, heavy enough to challenge the strength of even a Norwegian Troll!

Finally... Ping!  The clattering stopped.

There was another pause.  (Apparently, Rada could never get enough gloating.)  Then, the drawstring was loosened and the bag jerked from Penny's head.

As Penny's blinking eyes adjusted from total darkness to semi-darkness, she shook her ball-gagged head in a vain effort to restore something resembling order to her tousled blond locks.  By the time she was finally able to focus, Rada had crossed the threshold, the chamber door was closing―Creeeeeee!―the bolt was being thrown―Thunk!―and the lock locked.  Click!

It was time for a stunningly clever albeit silent Parting Shot to send Rada scurrying on her way with her tail between her legs.  Unfortunately, You better run! was still the best Penny could come up with.  She heaved a sigh, then made a mental note to put more effort into formulating a list of appropriate biting witticisms.

Penny looked around and confirmed that, as she'd suspected, she was spreadeagled on her back on a table made of massive wooden timbers.  The chamber was a classic Roget Manor Dungeon Cell, with the usual stone floor, walls, and vaulted ceiling; however, it was an unusually large cell and the ceiling was unusually far overhead.  The only explanation was that this particular chamber continued up through the basement level and possibly into ground floor as well.

Oh-by-the-way, there was, indeed, another massive and complicated mass of nested gears and dangling counterweights, this time directly overhead.  And part of the mechanism was truly ominous!  Penny had no idea how the machine overhead actually worked, but she knew exactly what it was for.  Only one reaction was appropriate:

"MRRRRRRRF!"

Gwyn's efforts to "catch up" were largely successful.  She'd licked and probed Mandy's pussy until the early morning orgasm count was more or less equal.  Given the circumstances, precision was difficult.  And that last time, when Gwyn suspended her efforts and unilaterally called an end to the festivities, Mandy may or may not have peaked.  Urgent business was being neglected.  Specifically, answering the morning call of nature.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Gwyn strolled back to the bed and was nice enough to "free" Mandy so she could scamper into the bathroom and do the same.  The ginger's freedom was qualified, however, because Gwyn untied her friend only to the point of mobility.  Mandy's upper-body-bonds remained intact.

While Mandy tinkled, Gwyn dressed in panties, bra, black jeans, a navy-blue tank-top with a cartoon image of a smiling puppy, anklets, and sneakers.  She needed a shower (as did Mandy), but decided it could wait.  Gwyn was hungry and had no doubt her naked, bound, ginger-haired boink-buddy was equally famished.

Mandy returned from the bathroom still naked, her crossed wrists still lashed against the small of her back to a belly-rope, and with additional doubled strands still pinning her upper-arms to her sides, crisscrossing between her boobs, and yoking her shoulders.  In other words, with the exception of the now loosely dangling vertical crotch-rope element, Rada's original rigging remained intact.  Also, the ball-gag that had plugged Gwyn's mouth through most of the hours of the night and later—and, after the Rada-attack, had stifled her moans while Mandy licked her pussy—then had been transferred to Mandy's mouth while Gwyn licked Mandy's pussy—was now loosely dangling around the redhead's neck with its buckle secured on the strap's first hole.

The previously mentioned crotch-rope element served as a convenient leash for Gwyn to lead her ginger prisoner downstairs to the kitchen.  They had the place to themselves.  Apparently, enough time had passed for the Mistress of Roget Manor to consume her breakfast, place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and withdraw to elsewhere in the mansion.  So... that was one awkward encounter that could wait 'til later.  Likewise, Rada and Penny were nowhere to be seen.

Mandy sat at the kitchen table and watched her captor and newly acknowledged girlfriend cook a traditional breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee.  Gwyn continued being considerate in that she brewed a cup of coffee and repeatedly shared it with her prisoner, one sip at a time, while she prepared the meal.  She then fed Mandy and herself and cleaned up afterwards.

It would appear the couple had silently agreed that a discussion of being awkwardly outed to Gwyn's mother was premature.  Discussing Penny, however, was another matter.

"Ya think she knows?" Mandy said as she padded behind Gwyn to one of the first floor sitting rooms.  "Ya think she knows we're a couple?"

"I'm sure Rada knows," Gwyn muttered.  "Otherwise, she wouldn't have tied you between my legs the way she did."

"No, Penny!" Mandy clarified.  "Do you think Penny knows?"

A few seconds passed before Gwyn answered.  "I wouldn't bet against it."

"Me neither," Mandy agreed.

They arrived at the sitting room, Gwyn flopped down on a soft, comfy sofa, and took Mandy with her.  It was easy.  The loose crotch-rope/belly-rope leash was back in her hand and it made a compelling argument.

"Hey!" Mandy complained (and smiled).  Soon, the fully clothed and rope-free brunette and the naked and rope-bound redhead were snuggling together with Gwyn's hands around Mandy's well-roped upper-body.  "What do you"―Smooch!―"think you're"―Smooch!―"doing?" Mandy demanded.

What Gwyn was doing was raining kisses on Mandy's blushing, lightly-freckled, and smiling face, of course.  Gwyn didn't answer, other than by continuing to rain kisses of Mandy's blushing, lightly-freckled, and smiling face.

"Really?" Mandy purred.  "You wanna make out?"

"And you don't?" Gwyn purred back, then resumed exploring Mandy's lightly-freckled face and smiling lips with her lips and tongue.  She was also kneading Mandy's lightly-freckled breasts with one hand and sliding her other hand over Mandy's lightly-freckled and rope-bound arms, as well as her lightly-freckled tummy, hips, thighs, etc.

Mandy shivered (with delight), but didn't return Gwyn's kisses.  "Aren't we supposed to wait half an hour?"

Smooch!―"Swimming"―Smooch!

"W-what?" Mandy chuckled.

Smooch!―"You wait a half-hour"―Smooch!―"before swimming"―Smooch!

"Oh," Mandy responded.  "In that case..."  Mandy began squirming her naked, upper-body-bound, lightly-freckled body against Gwyn and matching her kiss for kiss.

The early morning make-out session continued.

Thus far, Penny's experiences at Spooky Roget Manor had been more or less within the aesthetic realm of John Willie, and yesterday's automatic rack might have been something Jeff Gord would have come up with (if the late, great proponent of "ultra tight bondage" had been into mechanical engineering, as opposed to electro-mechanical engineering); but what Penny found herself staring at brought someone else to mind.  Specifically... Edgar Allen Poe!

The device overhead included several nested gears, the largest of which was something like four or five feet across.  There were also dangling chains and counterweights, as she'd deduced by listening to Rada haul on a chain and hoist the largest weight into the air.  That was the chain that was still swaying, so it had to be the one.  Also, there was a long, wooden shaft or spar or whatever it was called, projecting up through the middle of the gears.  A lot of the shaft was above the machine, but most of it was below, and it was canted at an angle to Penny's left and was kept from swinging by an iron clamp.  And oh-by-the-way... at the end of the shaft... at Penny's end of the shaft was... a semi-circular blade big enough to dice a full grown buffalo!

 "MRRRRRRRF!" Penny reiterated.

Clearly (although Penny very much hoped she was mistaken). the gears and counterweights and shaft and blade were a Pendulum Torture Device!  If the clamp restraining the shaft was released, the shaft would swing, the gears would grind, and slowly... ever so slowly... the blade would swing lower... and lower... and lower... until...

Granted, the chamber was semi-dark, lit only by a few LEDs flickering like candles in assorted niches, the distance up to the machine was too great for Penny to make out a lot of the mechanical details, she didn't have an ideal viewing angle, and was lacking an engineering degree... but that had to be the point of the thing.  Right?  Swinging lower and lower and lower, until...  Otherwise, what was the point?  Swinging and swinging and swinging and... swinging?

And what was that irritating dripping sound?  Penny looked to her right (away from the ominously clamped shaft and wickedly curved blade) and beheld a large wooden bucket suspended from a chain, and several feet above it was another wooden bucket, and this one had a spout.  The higher bucket was dripping into the lower bucket―Doink.  Doink.  Doink.―which Penny didn't find at all ominous and disturbing.

Doink.  Doink.  Doink.

Suddenly―Ker'clunk!―the lower bucket dropped one chain length.

Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Obviously, as the weight of the lower bucket increased, it was... doing something.

Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  What that might be―Ker'clunk!―Penny had no idea, but―Doink.  Doink.  Doink.―there had to be some point to the buckets-and-chain device, or sub-device, or ancillary mechanism, or whatever it was.

Doink.  Doink.  Doink.

This continued for some time―Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Ker'clunk!  Doink.  Doink.  Doink.―while Penny confirmed that her steel bonds were, indeed, 100% escape-proof by squirming her naked body on the hard wood of the table and kicking and tugging on her shackles and manacles, respectively.  She also stared up and to her left at the ominous and obviously razor-sharp and menacingly glinting blade of the pendulum.  And then...

Doink.  Doink.  Doink.  Ker'CLUNK!  The bucket dropped again, there was a creaking sound― "Creeee!" ―followed immediately by an authoritative metallic sound to Penny's left―KLACK!―and the clamp restraining the pendulum snapped open!

The pendulum swung to the right―directly across, but thankfully several feet above, Penny's clamped nipples―Swoosh!―then swung back to the left!  At the same time, the gears of the overhead mechanism began to grind and turn!

Swooosh!  The blade literally whistled as it sliced through the air!  And at the end of each swing it paused... perceptibly―Swooosh!―before swinging back.

"MRRRRRRRF!"

Swooosh!

The thing WAS a Pendulum Torture Device!

Swooosh!

Or at least a ridiculously over-complicated example of the pendulum principle.

Swooosh!

And then...

Clack-cack-cack-cack-cack-cack-Klunk!

Something happened, something involving the gears immediately surrounding the shaft's pivot-point!

Swooosh!

The distance was far too great for Penny to visually confirm anything, but she had her suspicions.

Swooosh!

Logically, if the blade was there to do more than roil the atmosphere...

Swooosh!

The mechanism had to lower itself...

Swooosh!

Or the shaft had to lengthen...

Swooosh!

Or something had to happen to bring the blade swinging lower and lower and closer and closer to Poor Penny Parr!

Swooosh!

Okay, okay, okay! Penny thought.  Good one!

Swooosh!

Ya really had me goin' there for a second!

Swooosh!

But this thing―as impressive as it is―can't possibly be a Pendulum EXECUTION Device!

Swooosh!

Bethany and Rada would never just OFF me like this!

Swooosh!

At the very least they'd hang around so they could watch!

Swooosh!

And gloat!

Swooosh!

And if I'd dead, Gwyn and Mandy would have to find a new housemate when they go back to school!

Swooosh!

That would be... a minor inconvenience!"

Swooosh!   Clack-cack-cack-cack-cack-cack-Klunk!

Whatever it was the gears had done before... they'd just done it again!

Swooosh!

And the blade was still swinging!

Swooosh!

Also...

"MRRRRRRRF!"

Gwyn and Mandy's sitting room make-out session continued for some time.

And then―possibly because one or both of the girls became concerned about developing chapped lips―Gwyn retrieved Mandy's waist-rope tether (the vertical element of her former crotch-rope) and "dragged" her ginger captive towards the nearest exterior door.  The informal gardens were beyond, resplendent in morning sunshine, chirping birds, and scampering squirrels.

"Time for you to work on your freckles," Gwyn explained.

"My freckles?" Mandy sighed.

"Mother loves your freckles," Gwyn purred.

Mandy rolled her green eyes.  "I know."  Gwyn opened the door and they crossed the threshold and strolled across the lawn.  "So what?"

Gwyn beamed at her pouting captive.  "You don't want to make your girlfriend's mother happy?"

Mandy heaved another sigh (and ignored the thrill that rippled between her legs in response to Gwyn's use of the word "girlfriend").  "What about tan-lines?"

"You mean freckle-lines?" Gwyn chuckled.

Mandy rolled her eyes, again.  "Okay, freckle-lines."

"What freckle-lines?" Gwyn asked.

"The freckle-lines I'll get because of Rada's ropes," Mandy clarified.

"Oh, you mean your future, hypothetical freckle-lines," Mandy purred, then spun Mandy around and began untying the ginger's rope bonds.  "Don't worry.  I got ya covered... or uncovered, as the case may be."

Mandy smiled, bit her lower lip, and watched a flock of songbirds (probably chickadees and nuthatches) loot sunflower and peanut fragments from a tube-feeder hanging from a lower branch of a distant oak.  Quickly, her black hemp bonds melted away... and she was free... and naked.

Gwyn, nodded towards a nearby deck with several lounge-chairs and a small cabinet as she coiled Mandy's former ropes.  "Sunscreen," she ordered.

"In a minute," Mandy responded, smiling and rubbing her newly freed wrists.  "But first... strip."

Gwyn grinned and cocked an eyebrow.  "Excuse me?"

"Any second now," Mandy explained, "Rada's gonna show up.  If at least one of us isn't naked and tied up, she'll have an excuse to pounce."

It was Gwyn's turn to roll her eyes.  "Like she needs an excuse."  She pulled her tank-top over her head and tossed it to Mandy.

Mandy folded the tank and watched (her lips curled in a leering smile) as her girlfriend also removed her bra, sneakers, anklets, jeans, and panties.

Standing on the grass in all her 5' 2", fair-complected, nude glory, it was Gwyn's turn to watch as Mandy completed folding and bundling her former clothes, then padded to the deck and dropped the stack on a lounge-chair.

"We should do this in the shade," Mandy announced as she returned to her now nude soon-to-be-captive and pointed to an oak a reasonable distance from the oak with the hanging birdfeeder, "by which I mean I should do you in the shade.  We both know you don't tan.  You don't even freckle.  You just burn... like a vampire."

"Funny," Gwyn drawled, appreciating the view as Mandy bent at the waist (with her lightly-freckled butt facing her soon-to-be-captive) and picked up the coils of black hemp rope.

The naked duo adjourned to the shade of the indicated oak, and―with a lot of smiling and only a little caressing and kissing―Mandy proceeded to bind her naked girlfriend in a no-nonsense combination box-tie/cross-legged-hogtie/frog-tie.  Soon, the daughter of the household was on her stomach, on the grass, under the dappled shade of the oak, and only capable of excruciatingly slow inchworm locomotion if she wished to relocate.  Gwyn watched as (still smiling) Mandy reached behind her head, parted her long, ginger locks, and unbuckled the ball-gag still dangling around her neck.

"You didn't have to be such a bitch," Gwyn complained, squirming and testing her obviously well-tied and inescapable bonds.  Her back was arched and her thighs and breasts nearly lifting off the grass.  That was the bitchiness in question, the totally unnecessary stringency of the hogtie.

"Rada will expect it," Mandy explained.  "Besides," the grinning ginger continued as she knelt beside Gwyn's pouting head, ball-gag at the ready, "I ran out of rope."

"Mrrrk!" Gwyn complained as the black, silicon-rubber sphere invaded her mouth and Mandy buckled the strap tight, under her dark, tousled hair.  She then squirmed and continued mewling complaints as Mandy strolled back to the deck, opened the cabinet, lifted a folded towel and a bottle of sunscreen off a shelf, then strolled out onto the open lawn.  Apparently, she'd also found a fabric-covered elastic on the cabinet shelf, because she combed her long, ginger hair with her fingers, coiled it into a tight bun atop her head, and enforced the neck and face-baring coif with said elastic.  Mandy then proceeded to stand there in the full sun and rub sunscreen all over her naked body.

Gwyn found the sight of Mandy oiling her lightly freckled self to be distracting... so distracting she flinched in surprise when her mother's voice suddenly broke the silence.

"She's very pretty," Bethany stated, standing next to her helplessly hogtied and ball-gagged daughter.

State the obvious much? Gwyn silently fumed.  She'd recovered from her surprise, and noted her mother was barefoot and dressed in thigh-length spandex exercise pants and a tank-top, black and rose-pink, respectively.  Her dark hair was coiled atop her head in a tight bun, like Mandy.  The smile curling the maternal lips and sparkling in the sky-blue maternal eyes was infuriating (and beautiful).

"Well... enjoy the shade," Bethany stated, then padded across the lawn and towards Mandy, waving as she cruelly abandoned Gwyn to the ants, flies, mosquitoes, vultures, raccoons, coyotes, wolves, cougars, bears, etc.

Mandy returned Bethany's wave (and tried not to blush).  "Hi," she said quietly.

"Hello, Amanda," Bethany purred, pulling Mandy into a warm embrace and planting a kiss on her coral-pink lips.

This did not help Mandy's blushing problem.

"Working on your freckles for me?" Bethany inquired.

"Uh..."  Mandy nodded quickly.

"Such a good girl," Bethany chuckled.

"W-we have something to ask you," Mandy stammered.

"We?" Bethany inquired.

"Uh... Gwyn, Penny... myself."

Bethany nodded.  "Continue."

"We want to capture Rada.  You know.  Strip her naked and tie her up?"

Bethany's smile didn't falter.  "I see.  A laudable goal, but what do you expect me to do about it?  Give you permission?"

"Well, yeah," Mandy confirmed.  "Also... we want you to order her to let us do it."

"Oh, I see," Bethany stated, continuing to smile at Mandy's obviously nervous, naked, glistening, (blushing), and lightly-freckled face.  "I assume this is mainly Penny's idea," Bethany purred.  You were never this ambitious last summer."  Bethany's smile widened.  "That's an observation, of course, not a criticism."

Mandy heaved a sigh.  "Yeah... the thought never occurred to us... last summer.  It would have been two against one."

"With the one being Rada," Bethany purred.

Mandy nodded.

"Well," Bethany continued, "I'll have to think about it."

"That's reasonable," Mandy granted.

"Have you ever practiced Tai Chi?" Bethany inquired.

Mandy blinked at the sudden change of subject.  "Uh... no."

"Would you like to give it a try?"

Mandy nodded.  "Sure.  Why not?"

"Try not to overwhelm me with your enthusiasm," Bethany chuckled, then started walking in a circle and shaking her feet and hands.  "Step one is warm-up," she explained.  "Never skip warm-up."

"Okay," Mandy agreed and mimicked her Tai Chi instructor's actions.

Back in the shade, the naked, stringently bound, and ball-gagged Gwyn shook her hair from her face and glared at her mother and girlfriend.  She'd been able to follow most of their conversation, despite the distance.  She watched as Mother and Mandy moved on to stretching exercises.

Gwyn heaved a helpless, ball-gagged sigh and relaxed in her bonds.  Would Mother lend her support to their ambitious plan to capture and humiliate Rada, as the Norwegian amazon so richly deserved?  And would Bethany's support do them any good?  Only time would tell.

At least we'll be able to tell Penny her 'plan' is underway, Gwyn mused, whenever Rada is done playing with her... and she has time to recover.  The naked, hogtied, and ball-gagged daughter-of-the-house had no idea what diabolical atrocity Penny was being subjected to for Day Three of Hazing Week, but she was sure it would almost certainly require a recovery period.

Out on the lawn, Bethany continued teaching Mandy a Tai-Chi-for-beginners routine.  Gwyn decided it was... entertaining... the part about naked Mandy slowly, gracefully striking martial arts poses with increasing confidence, anyway.

Rada sipped her coffee and enjoyed the view out the window of one of the manor's many first floor sitting rooms.  She'd removed and returned her black fleece vest, sneakers, and anklets to her room, so now was wearing only the black spandex exercise pants and sports bra of what Gwyn called her "pouncing costume."

Out in the side garden, Gwyn was enjoying the shade of an oak tree.  Her precious little Valp was naked and weakly squirming in the embrace of a few meters of black hemp rope, as well as chewing on a black, silicon-rubber ball-gag, which, admittedly, made the full extent of her actual enjoyment difficult to ascertain.

Meanwhile, on the expansive lawn and in the full mid-morning sun, an exercise-togs clad Bethany was teaching a naked Mandy Byrne the fundamentals of Tai Chi.

The neighborhood flock had overcome being disturbed by the humans' arrival and continued presence (or had surrendered to avian hunger) and returned to the feeder hanging from the oak off to one side.  Rada made a mental note to make the rounds and check on all the bird-feeding stations, including the two hummingbird feeders.  This time of year, there were a lot of fledglings still mastering flight, figuring out how to land on things without crashing, and sorting out the whole feed-yourself-without-being-fed-by-mother thing.  They were always a lot of fun to watch, and by their antics and wasted motion, Rada strongly suspected half the crowd at the tube-feeder were youngsters.

The human youngsters, the one writhing in bondage in the shade and the one working on her freckle collections, respectively, were also fun to watch.  Even Bethany, attired in skimpy exercise clothes and being all maternal and instructive was fun.

Rada pulled her iPhone from the back pocket of her spandex pants and opened an app.  The phone's tiny screen now displayed real-time video of what was happening down in the Poe Pendulum Chamber.  Penny Parr was weakly tugging on her steel bonds, anxiously staring upwards, and turning her ball-gagged head, her blue eyes following the steel pendulum blade with obvious dread as it slowly whooshed back and forth over her naked, spreadeagled body.

Poor Penny, Rada thought (and smiled).  She knew it was probably too early in the program for Penny to be absolutely certain that the blade was, indeed, descending.  Maybe in another hour she'll know for sure, Rada decided.  Certainly in two.  It was going to be a very long day for the cute little helpless blonde.

Rada clicked off the iPhone, slid it back in her pocket, and returned her smiling gaze to the window.  So... what to do?

It might be fun to abscond with Gwyn while her mother and lover were occupied perfecting Mandy's Tai Chi moves.  Then, Rada could make her precious little Valp even more helpless―hide her in one of the mansion's countless secret cubbyholes―come back and capture Bethany and Mandy―bind and gag them both―then declare a scavenger hunt.  The first one to find Gwyn would be set free, and Gwyn and the loser would remain naked, bound, and gagged prisoners until sundown, for the winner to do with as she pleased.  She imagined Mandy and Bethany hopping around the mansion... ankles bound, wrists bound in a reverse-prayer-kimono-ties, ball-gagged and tape-gagged, their boobs flopping with every bounce as they searched and searched... while Gwyn, stringently bound and gagged, squirmed in her close, dark, tiny prison and awaited "rescue."

Rada sighed and shook her head.  It would be fun, but Bethany and Mandy were bound to notice (so to speak) when Rada tried absconding with Gwyn.  That would lessen the impact of the game.  It just wouldn't be the same without surprise.

Rada knew she'd think of something.  Gwyn wasn't going anywhere, and eventually Bethany and Mandy would either have to come inside or find some shade and get out of the sun.  After that, either Bethany or Mandy would wander off on their own and Rada would have her chance to strike.  Hmm... my little Fox would also make a good scavenger hunt prize... then mother and daughter could hop around and look for her together.  Hmm...

Time would tell who would be the prize and who would be the seekers, but more and more a Bondage Scavenger Hunt was sounding like a good idea. 

In any case, Penny was out of the running.  She had problems of her own to worry about.