| by Van ©2019
her arms under her breasts, defiant in her skimpy, black
string-bikini, and favored Rada with her best Imperious Gaze
(the one that fairly dripped Aristocratic Disdain and
she'd been practicing in front of the mirror since she was
"Mother has visitors," the Daughter of the Manor intoned
(stating the obvious). "Now is not the time for silly
games. I will not 'strip for Rada,' and
neither will Mandy."
Mandy blinked her green eyes. "I won't?" She'd
already parted her long, straight, ginger hair and grabbed hold
of the ends of the bow securing the top string of her skimpy,
dark-jade string-bikini. Arms raised and still gripping
the top strings, she leaned close and whispered in Mandy's
ear. "Are you crazy?"
Mandy's steely blue eyes remained fixed on Rada. "Mother
said she wants us to meet her visitors," she noted with
confidence. "I suspect both of them are Action Directorate
Operatives! We can't meet Fellow Sisters naked and wearing
whatever you've got in your stupid bag, and we certainly can't
meet them if you've stashed us away in secret
cubbyholes or dragged us to the dungeons and locked us in a
"Uh... yeah," Mandy agreed, finally taking Gwyn's lead.
She released the bikini-strings and crossed her arms under her
breasts, mimicking Gwyn's defiance. She had zero
expectation that Gwyn's "cunning plan" was going to work, but
then, Rada was wearing one of her servant
outfits. That meant that at least for the moment, Spooky
Roget Manor was in formal mode... or as formal as things were
going to get until the next time the High Mistress decided to
throw one of her fancy parties, so... it was worth a try.
Also, whatever Rada had in her "stupid bag" (the black duffel
ominously resting on the carpet next to Rada's sensibly-shod
right foot), it was almost certainly not the harbinger
of good times for Gwyn and herself.
"In the first place," Rada purred, still smiling broadly, "it is
not for a pair of Sisterhood Brownies to question the orders of
"We are not 'Sisterhood Brownies,' Rada," Gwyn
objected, stamping one bare foot for emphasis.
"We're at least Sisterhood Girl Scouts," Mandy chimed
in. "Or maybe Girl Guides, since the Sisterhood is
international. And we're the senior kind... with
all the merit badges."
Her blue eyes still fixed on Rada, Gwyn gently kicked Mandy's
closest leg. "Stop helping," she whispered.
"Ow!" Mandy pouted.
"And in the second place," Rada continued, ignoring her prey's
objections, "I've already asked Sally to lock the reading room
doors. If you make Rada chase you around, Rada will use all
the accessories in Rada's stupid bag." She nudged the
duffel with her sensible shoe and it rattled in smug
agreement. "Even the nasty accessories in the side-pockets
of Rada's stupid bag."
Gwyn and Mandy turned their heads, locked eyes, heaved
simultaneous sighs... then removed their bikinis. It
didn't take very long. Soon, they were completely nude and
the bikini's (what there was of them) were draped across the
back of a nearby easy chair.
"Why is she talkin' in the third person?" Mandy whispered to her
girlfriend while they watched Rada unzip the main compartment of
Rada's Stupid Bag.
"She gets all grandiose now and then," Gwyn whispered
back, "or when she's in an especially wicked mood."
Mandy frowned. "You sure it's not her Norwegian accent
coming to the surface? Maybe she does that when
she's feelin' grandiose or wicked."
"Silence!" Rada barked (somehow managing to stifle the laughter
bubbling to escape her smiling lips). She then reached
into the bag and set to work.
A few minutes later... Rada finally stood back to admire a job
Both naked young "Sisterhood Brownies" were wearing complete,
interconnected sets of "serving chains" with collars, manacles,
and fetters. Being from the Roget Family Collection, the
sets were deluxe stainless steel models with wide, thick, smooth
(inside-and-out) neck, wrist, and ankle restraints and
double-locking internal mechanisms where each restraint met its
gleaming chain. There were no unsightly and noisy
There was more. There was much more. There
were chastity belts!
belts were stainless steel, lined with black leather, and locked
around Gwyn and Mandy's waists by means of locking steel
snap-buckles, each engraved with a decorative "R" for
Roget. The vertical crotch-panels had secondary
crotch-panels with flush-mounted brass padlocks and
leather-padded chains linking the bottoms of the crotch-panels
to the backs of the belts.
Both items were perfect fits, just tight enough to
dimple Gwyn and Mandy's flesh. Trying to use their
questing fingers to reach under the crotch-panels would be
exceedingly difficult, if not impossible. Regarding
sanitation, if the pouting damsels respectfully begged Rada to
unlock and remove their secondary crotch-panels, they'd be able
to relieve themselves, but playing with themselves (or
each other) with the panels in place was out of the question.
O the drama! O the tragedy! O the looming hours of
In Mandy's humble opinion, Gwyn had never looked hotter.
All fair, flawless skin, long, tousled, dark-brown/black hair,
incredibly beautiful face, and big, blue, sad eyes...
she was gorgeous! Tight hogties and ball-ties and
other exotic/elaborate ties had their place, but Captured
Princess Gwyneth was hot! (In Mandy's humble
opinion.) This did not help the ginger beauty's
Gwyn's assessment/appreciation of her slightly taller, freckled,
ginger-haired, and green-eyed fellow captive was similar, only,
to Gwyn, Mandy was the captured daughter of a Celtic Chieftain,
all Brave Defiance and smokin' hot pulchritude.
Actually, at the moment, Mandy was looking neither brave nor
defiant, but Gwyn knew her quite well (and in the
biblical sense) and could supply the required haughty insolence
"All right then, ladies," Rada instructed as she zipped closed
her now rather depleted Stupid Bag, "go to one of your bedrooms,
I don't care which one, and braid each others hair. And be
quick about it. Then, report to the kitchen. Sally
has a list of tasks for you to help prepare tonight's
dinner. Also..." Rada's smile widened. "You'll
be serving the meal. And before you start whining and
complaining..." She gave the Stupid Bag a shake. It
rattled in response (a little). "Accessorizing is still an
"Rada!" Gwyn and Mandy whined in response. They couldn't
"Don't make me fetch the matching scold's bridles,"
Rada purred. "Sally, unlock the doors."
Sigourney Weaver's voice answered. "Consider it done."
Gwyn and Mandy locked eyes and heaved another simultaneous sigh,
then stomped (and clattered) from the reading room. Yes,
they were barefoot and technically padding rather than stomping,
but their pouting lips and rattling hobble-chains made their
shared unhappiness abundantly clear.
Rada watched the girls depart... then, still smiling, turned to
the next task on her list. "No rest for the wicked," she
said under her breath.
"Tell me about it," Sally's voice agreed.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
finding it difficult to relax. Being naked, with her feet
locked in an ankle-foot-toe neoprene/rubber-tubing
binder-thingie, her arms bound behind her back in a neoprene
single-sleeve armbinder, and her upper body bound in a neoprene
body-harness, wasn't conducive to relaxation. Equally
unhelpful was having been dumped in Bethany's big, luxurious,
outdoor pool. Likewise being tickled by Frankie, the
gorgeous, athletic, naked member of the mysterious organization
that had supposedly recruited (or was it captured?)
Cousin Beebe and Aunt Suki.
Granted, Frankie, the naked, smiling, gorgeous older woman
currently running her fiendish fingers over Penny's wet,
helpless body did have a beautiful face and sparkling
blue eyes, but still...
This was a lot to take in! Penny needed time! And
she was unable to properly defend herself! Or retaliate!
Also, Bethany (clad in a skimpy, black string-bikini) was
sitting poolside and sipping a rum cocktail. Jane, the
older gorgeous, athletic, and supposedly senior member
of the mysterious organization (and wearing a really attractive,
summer-weight dress and not a bikini), was also sitting
poolside and sipping a rum cocktail. And they were both
watching Penny kick and squirm, sputter and giggle, and do her
best not to drown! That wasn't helping Penny to relax either.
Was it too much to ask for a little personal time to process
what she'd been told? Her apprenticeship with Dr. Bondage
was cancelled? Beebe and Suki were incommunicado and
hidden away... somewhere? And Penny was supposed to take
all of that in stride and let gorgeous, naked, blue-eyed
strangers dunk her in the pool and tickle her silly? Is
that what was really happening?
Apparently... it was.
And then, the tickling stopped, Frankie (the gorgeous, naked,
blue-eyed stranger in question) swam a few yards away and
floated on her back, lips smiling, blue eyes closed, and her
gorgeous face turned to the sun.
Penny managed to tread water... in a neoprene-bondage-hampered
and highly resentful manner... and glared at
Frankie. What an outrage! She tried to drown me
by tickling! But then, the water was refreshing...
so that was good. It was best to ignore the offending
beauty sharing the pool and take advantage of this, her first
real opportunity to reflect on her drastically revised future.
First, however, Penny decided to relocate to the shallow end so
as not to have to tread water in a neoprene-bondage-hampered and
highly resentful manner... and she did so (in a highly
inefficient, thrashing and neoprene-bondage-hampered
manner). Finally, her bound toes touched the bottom of the
pool and she no longer had to tread water. She'd reached
the beginning of the shallow end. So... time to think.
Oh, Beebe... Oh, Suki... Penny silently
sighed. What happened? And what can I do about
Thanks to Beebe's paranoid but justifiable security regime,
the one designed to frustrate law enforcement, Penny had no way
of even starting an investigation, no way to sneak to
one of Beebe and Suki's many hideouts, abodes, or lairs, search
for cues, and (hopefully) pick up their trail. Why?
Because she didn't know where any of their current hideouts,
abodes, or lairs were located... and the ones she did know
about were all inactive/abandoned. Beebe and Suki were
always on the move, staying in one place no more than a few days
or weeks at a time, especially after having just completed a
job. Penny was always required to wait for Beebe to
contact her with instructions on how to find them.
So... what to do? What can I do?
Penny stood, her bound toes and feet brushing the concrete
bottom as she semi-floated in frustration. This
sucks... although the water is refreshing.
After several minutes... (It felt like several
minutes)... Penny noticed Rada strolling back to the pool
from the mansion. Still wearing her Senior Servant
Uniform, she was carrying a stack of large, fluffy towels and a
black canvas duffel bag was slung on her right shoulder.
Penny watched, warily, as her titanic (and gorgeous) nemesis
deposited the towels on a side table, dropped the duffel on the
tiles, smiled, and strolled in her watery direction.
"Come here, Kattunge," Rada purred, beckoning for Penny
to hop/swim to the edge of the pool.
"Bite me!" Penny responded, and then―"Eeee! Hey!
Stop it! Let me go!"―Frankie suddenly emerged from the
depths, grabbed her from behind, and was now sloshing through
the water towards Rada, taking Penny's squirming, struggling,
complaining body with her! "Noooooo!"
"She's adorable," Jane, the elder stranger, remarked to Bethany,
loud enough for Penny to hear.
Rada lifted Penny from the water with depressing ease, carried
her dripping, naked, neoprene-bound, and indignant body next to
the towels, planted her rubber-tubing and neoprene-bound feet on
the sun-warmed tiles―"Ow!"―and subjected her to the supreme
indignity of a vigorous toweling. "Leave me
alone, you Norwegian Troll!"
This elicited an appreciative chuckle from Penny's lounging
and swimming admirers.
"Hush, Kattunge," Rada purred, then concentrated on
drying Penny's hair.
"Let me go!" Penny whined.
Surprisingly, Rada did, indeed, let her go. That is, she
tossed aside the towel, produced the required tool/key, unlocked
and opened all of the many snap-buckles (and single zipper)
securing Penny's ankle-foot-toe, body-harness, and armbinder
bonds... and Penny was finally free!
However, as the saying goes, every silver lining has a
cloud. Penny rubbed her wrists (unnecessarily), pouted,
and watched as Rada unzipped her ominous duffel and pulled
out... a stainless steel Secretary-yoke!
was Aunt Suki's name for such devices, anyway:
"Secretary-yoke." She was referencing the manacles,
collar, and spreader-bar combo Maggie Gyllenhaal
wore in that famous
scene from the movie Secretary,
of course. Why Maggie hadn't won that year's Oscar for
Lead Actress in a Bondage Drama, Penny would never understand.
Anyway, Maggie's yoke had been steel and leather, with flexible,
dangling attachment points for the manacles and collar, while
the model in Rada's hands was all steel and totally rigid.
However, the wearer's wrists would be held to either side of her
head with her elbows-bent, so as far as Penny was concerned (and
she was very concerned) it qualified as a
Penny seriously considered sprinting for the trees and making
her way to the thriving metropolis of Roget, which Gwyn had said
was the nearest town. She was sure she could find the
place. Pretty sure, anyway. The only
problem, of course, was that Rada would be hot on her heels the
entire way. Also, if/when she arrived in town, she'd be
naked and covered in scratches from head to toe from all the
intervening tree branches, bushes, brambles, etc. Also,
there might be bears, pumas, wolves, coyotes, velociraptors, and
raccoons lurking in the woods!
Penny decided to offer no resistance, but did offer a display of
pouting-but-compliant-defiance with the adorableness factor
dialed up to eleven. It might earn her sympathy and/or
style-points from the judges: Bethany, Jane, and Frankie.
Anyway―"Sigh!"―in short order Penny was in full-blown, naked,
Maggie Gyllenhaal mode, elbows bent, hands to either side of her
pouting (and hopefully mega-adorable) face, and her wrists and
neck locked in stainless steel. O the tragedy of it all!
While Penny dwelt on the helplessness of her situation (and
decided that aspiring to the level of cuteness effortlessly
displayed by Maggie Gyllenhaal was a laudable life goal), Rada
handed a hairbrush and comb set to Jane, gathered Penny's former
neoprene bonds and dumped them in her duffel, spun on her
sensible heels, and headed for the mansion. "Things to
do!" she called back over her right shoulder. "Dinner will
be at the usual time."
"You better run!" Penny shouted at Rada's back, and
Bethany, Jane, and Frankie laughed. I guess it works
better as a spoken parting shot, Penny
decided. But I still need new material.
Jane grabbed a cushion from one of the unoccupied poolside
chairs and placed it on the tiles at her beautiful, sandal-clad
feet. "Come here, Penny," she suggested (ordered).
Penny directed one last scathing scowl at Rada's distant figure,
then padded forward and sat on the cushion with her back to Jane
and folded her legs to the side. She assumed that was the
position Jane had in mind and it turned out she was right.
Penny sighed and rested her eyes as the gorgeous stranger began
gently and skillfully brushing and combing her blond hair.
It felt good... as did the sun on her skin. And Jane's
fingers were nimble and strong. And Bethany was watching,
90-something-percent naked in her black string-bikini, smiling,
and sipping her drink. Penny decided she could
use a sip from her drink, but not right now.
Right now... she was being pampered. Penny was okay with
being pampered. After all she'd been through, she deserved
a little pampering.
"Let's talk some more," Jane suggested as she began plaiting
Penny's hair in a French braid.
"What about?" Penny inquired.
Jane chuckled. "The time has come, the Walrus said, to
talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and
sealing-wax. Of cabbages and kings."
Penny recognized the quote. "I do feel a little
like Alice," she huffed. Bethany and Jane laughed
(although it hadn't really been a joke), and Penny took the
occasion to ostentatiously nod her chin at her tumbler.
Bethany smiled, picked up the tumbler in question, and held it
to Penny's lips.
"Thank you," Penny responded after sipping and swallowing.
"You're welcome, dear," Bethany smiled, then focused on
Jane. "I assume you're going to give her The Talk?"
"If you're referring to the talk all Sisters give their
daughters on their thirteenth birthday," Jane answered.
"Yes, or a version thereof. She's not thirteen. More
importantly, she's not a family legacy, like your Gwyneth, or
like Sister Byrne's Amanda. Ours will not be the standard
Penny blinked, once, then controlled her reaction. 'Sisters?'
And Gwyn and Mandy are members of this mysterious organization
and they didn't tell me? Those rats!
"Penny might not be a legacy, but she has been vetted,"
"She has," Jane agreed, "which is why she's getting any version
of The Talk.'" She finished Penny's braid and tied the end
with a narrow blue ribbon Rada had apparently delivered with the
brush and comb set. Jane then lifted Penny up and sat her
on her lap. "Ours is an ancient organization," she said
solemnly, "but the details of its origin are lost in time.
We call it... The Sisterhood."
Penny sat on Jane's lap, basked in the sun, and listened with
keen attention as the lecture continued.
It was only later that night that Penny realized Jane's lengthy
description of The Sisterhood and how it worked had been a mile
wide and an inch deep (as the saying goes). To summarize
what Penny did learn:
At some point during
Jane's lecture/briefing, Frankie had climbed the ladder from the
pool... her nude, tan, athletic, gorgeous body dripping
chlorinated water... then padded over to Bethany, Jane, and
Penny... toweled her nude, tan, athletic, gorgeous body
with one of Rada's big, fluffy towels... transferred her neatly
stacked clothes to a side table... sat in her former chair, next
to Jane and Penny... crossed her long, tan, gorgeous legs...
and focused her gorgeous, blue-eyed, smiling gaze on
Penny. Needless to say, Penny found all that to be only mildly
- The Sisterhood's
professed goal was "Human Progress" (whatever that meant).
- The Sisterhood was
an exclusively female organization, although there were a
number of male "associates."
- The Sisterhood was
organized in "circles," mostly around specific activities
like promoting education, protecting the environment,
combating hunger, etc.
- Some circles were
small and local, some were large, regional, or national, a
few were global, and many Sisters were active in more than
- The Sisterhood was
secretive. Its existence was not to be acknowledged or
discussed with non-members. Its very name was a
guarded secret. Penny had to promise not to reference,
research, or even Google "The Sisterhood."
- In the same vein,
while many Sisters might be prominent academics, well-known
writers, powerful politicians, or famous celebrities, their
status as members was strictly secret.
And for that reason, no, Jane was not going to tell
Penny which famous celebrities she was talking about, and
Taylor Swift might or might not be a
Sister, and Penny should stop asking!
- And no, not all
circles of The Sisterhood were into naked bondage...
only the fun circles.
By the time Jane had revealed all that she was willing to
reveal, the sun was threatening to set and the mosquitoes were
waking up and probably thinking about feasting on any nude or
scantily clad Sisters that might be in the vicinity. Also,
it was just about time for supper. Penny's tummy was
There was a pause while Frankie dressed (much to Penny's
carefully concealed disappointment), and they adjourned to
Spooky Roget Manor.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
The evening meal was a
veritable feast, sure to please the palate of the most
discriminating gourmand. Throughout, Penny remained a
naked, Secretary-yoked, and somewhat disgruntled captive and not
the ideal dinner guest. She did her best not to
disappoint and/or embarrass her hostess, High Mistress Sister
Bethany, but some degree of grumpiness on Penny's part was clearly
justified, and possibly even expected.
All the traditional courses were served in the traditional
order. And in this case, "served" meant they were
delivered to the table by naked serving girls wearing serving
chains and chastity belts! The serving girls in question
were Gwyn and Mandy, of course. Penny assumed the chains
were so they could be serving girls, and as for the
chastity belts... Maybe they're for sanitary purposes?
Penny posited, like hair nets... only steel... and not on
Snooty rich people generally ignore their servants, but when
Gwyn and Mandy emerged from the kitchen for the first time, with
Mandy pushing a cart laden with the soup course, Bethany proudly
introduced her daughter and young, ginger-haired friend to Jane
and Frankie. The Senior Sisters smiled, exchanged
niceties, and politely ignored Gwyn and Mandy's naked
captivity. As it turned out, Gwyn had already met Jane,
although Gwyn had only been eleven at the time. Mandy knew
neither of the "Sisters" and blushed prettily when she was
introduced. Then, Gwyn and Mandy snapped back into
Anonymous Servant Mode and the meal continued.
As she served Penny, Gwyn leaned close and whispered in her ear:
"Don't worry. We didn't spit in your soup." She then
served Frankie, who apparently had been assigned the duty of
feeding Penny by hand, as the Secretary-yoked little blonde
couldn't very well feed herself. Smiling her blue-eyed
smile, Frankie seemed to be enjoying the task.
There was polite and congenial table talk, none of which had
anything to do with either The Sisterhood or naked
bondage. Being a Grumpy Kattunge, Penny didn't
take part, speaking only when spoken to. Finally, they
adjourned to one of the decadently overdecorated, Gothic sitting
rooms for brandy and more talk. Frankie only
allowed Penny a single snifter, although, given the events of
the day, Penny could have done with a refill.
After several minutes of careful listening, Penny heaved a wide,
deep yawn which, thanks to the Secretary-yoke, she was unable to
politely conceal. Rada appeared as if by magic, Bethany,
Jane, and Frankie wished Penny a good night, and
then―"Hey!"―Rada lifted her into her arms. Penny returned
the nocturnal pleasantries as Rada carried her from the sitting
room... in a grumpy manner, of course.
Penny had a lot of new things to think about, but she wasn't
distracted from the important items already on her agenda.
As they crossed the Grand Entryway and started up the Grand
Staircase, Penny carefully affected her most innocent, wide-eyed
expression, gazed up at Rada, and batted her
big-blue-eyes. "I know you have to make sure Bethany's
guests get settled in for the night," she said, "but
afterwards... are you still coming to my room? ...so I can
show you my rigging skills?" This is going to work! Penny
thought, batting her eyes again, for added adorableness.
"No, Kattunge," Rada purred. "Rada has other plans
for the evening." She leaned close and kissed Penny's
Penny heaved a disappointed and very adorable
sigh. Rats! It was worth a try.
The journey continued until they reached The Bambi Room, Penny's
gigantic, overdecorated, Gothic guest bedroom.
Rada helped Penny with her evening toilette (with the exception
of actually emptying her bladder for her), then tucked her into
bed. And in this case "tucking" meant padlocking a pair of
long chains to Penny's left and right Secretary-yoke
manacle-cuffs. The chains trailed away and were attached
to the left and right rails of the massive bed-frame, somewhere
near the floor. Penny had a lot of slack, and therefore
wiggle room, and was "free" to roll around on the mattress, but
she'd remain in bed until released.
"This is mean," Penny huffed as Rada leaned down and kissed her
"At least there is no gag, Kattunge," Rada noted, then
turned out the lights, leaving only the dim nightlights near the
baseboards, and made her exit. "Goodnight," she purred as
she closed and locked the bedroom door.
She has a point about the gag, Penny was forced to
admit. She stared up at the dark, only just barely visible
rafters, far overhead, and resolved to organize all the
information she'd learned about Beebe and Aunt Suki's
disappearance and/or supposed recruitment into the ranks of the
mysterious Sisterhood. That would be, of course, with an
eye towards deciding what (if anything) she could and should do
about any and/or all of it.
Instead, Penny fell asleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
|The Perils of Penny Parr
The Vast, Luxurious, Gothic Bedchamber of
High Mistress Bethany Roget
Bethany was naked and
comfortably reclined near the foot of her gigantic bed; however,
tonight "naked" meant she was wearing nothing but black,
conditioned hemp rope, instead of her usual baby-doll nightie,
and "comfortably reclined" meant she was hogtied on her stomach.
The hogtie was an undeniable masterpiece, heavily influenced by
Kinbaku but not slavishly constrained (so to speak) by
traditional Japanese forms. The details:
A hypothetical outside
observer who was also an aficionado of the Bondage Arts &
Sciences might have noted two glaring omissions:
- Bethany's ankles
were crossed and bound and her wrists tied together with her
- Her ankles and
wrists were in close proximity with their bonds melded
together in a compact, unified, highly restrictive nest of
loops and cinches.
- Her hands, thumbs,
and feet were also bound (together), as were her big toes
(separately), and the bondage was incorporated into the
wrist and ankle hogtie-nexus by tight loops and/or taut
strands of thin, black, hemp cord.
- Her lower legs
were lashed to her thighs in an elaborate and redundantly
looped and cinched frog-tie.
- Her elbows were
crushed together, tied, and cinched.
- And finally, a
complex body and torso-harness pinned her arms against her
sides and was tightly, tautly linked to the wrist and ankle
hogtie-nexus and elbow bonds, imparting on the composition a
Jane had rendered
Bethany so nakedly helpless with Bethany's own expensive bondage
rope... and then had abandoned her? What an outrage!
- There was no
crotch-rope, and arguably, an exquisite, absolutely beautiful
damsel like Bethany Roget practically demanded a
crotch-rope! Not literally, of course. Bethany
certainly hadn't demanded a crotch-rope as she was being
rendered helpless. Knowing the author of her bondage,
such a demand would have been decidedly imprudent.
- There was no
gag. Bethany was free (so to speak) to scream for
help, threaten retribution, beg for mercy, or swap recipes
with her rigger. Go figure. In any case, Jane,
the rigger in question, wasn't present. Anything
Bethany cared to scream or say would remain unheard (except
by Sally, of course).
Actually, Jane hadn't gone far. After tying the final knot
(and briefly sucking on the toes of Bethany's left foot,
eliciting a girlish squeal from her helpless prisoner), Jane
stepped to the side (no doubt positioning herself within the
full and easy view of her hogtied captive entirely by
accident) and proceeded to undress. She ignored Bethany's
squirming body and leering, appreciative smile as she did
so. Soon, her clothes neatly folded on the seat of an easy
chair and gloriously nude, Jane reached for the ceiling, far
overhead, arched her back... and executed a full-body
stretch. "Arrrgh!" She then padded into the Master
Bath and was gone, for the moment.
For several very long moments, actually.
Squirming and weakly testing her bonds (with absolutely no
expectation of escape), Bethany managed to piece together what
was happening in the bathroom. The hogtied damsel
recognized the sound of splashing water, specifically, the
faucet of her giant soaking-tub/whirlpool spa. She knew
the tub in question incorporated a flash heater, so the water
would emerge from the tap at the perfect temperature.
After about a minute, the cacophonous splashing stopped and was
replaced by the bubbling and churning of the spa's many
More minutes passed.
Many more minutes passed.
Bethany decided to pass the time by being naked, bound, and
Jane's hogtie was a fiendish predicament. Bethany
was impressed. She found if she remained perfectly
still... she was "comfortable." However, if she tried to
move, either to explore her bonds or attempt to relocate
herself... Ow! Bethany decided that, for the
moment, perfectly still would be just fine.
Finally―Finally!―the bubbling and churning stopped, there
was a brief pause... then the gurgling sound of the tub draining
commenced. Bethany assumed while that was happening Jane
had emerged from the lowering water, as well as a
possible/probable snowy-white, floating carpet of bath-bead
generated bubbles. Her perfect, imminently desirable
curves dripping with water, as well as with any
possible/probable remnant soap-bubbles clinging to said curves
(and who could blame them?), Jane had stepped from the tub/spa
and onto a lush bathmat, then toweled her perfect, imminently
desirable curves with a thick, fluffy bath-sheet.
And then, Jane padded from the bathroom, crossed the
considerable distance to the bed, climbed onto the bed,
and reclined against the vast Gothic headboard, propping her
back against a pile of shams and pillows. Her long, brown,
gleaming hair was dry and loose about her shoulders and her
brown-eyed smile was positively angelic (assuming, of course,
the existence of angels keenly interested in the Bondage Arts
"Well," Jane purred. "What do you think?"
Bethany suppressed a smile and heaved a rather unconvincing
theatrical sigh. "What do I think? I think I'm tied
up. You're truly a World Class Rigger. A High
Mistress of the Order of Riggers. A member of the Rigger's
High Council that meets in the High Council Chamber on the top
floor of the Rigger's Tower to debate Rigging. But then,
that's been true for years, so why do you even ask? So I
can stroke your ego?" She wiggled in her incredible
bonds. "I'm not in a position to stroke anything."
Jane heaved a theatrical sigh of her own. "All of that is
true, of course―"
"Of course," Bethany interrupted, and now she was smiling.
"But it's a little sad when I come up with such a pretty, dare I
say, exquisite composition," Jane continued, "and
there's no one here to appreciate it."
"What am I?" Bethany muttered, squirming a little more, "chopped
"You've the composition in question," Jane chuckled, "and from
that position you can't see half of my inspired
rope-work, much less admire the entire design. A pity."
Bethany heaved another sigh, and this time it was genuine.
"Yes, Mistress Roget?" Sigourney Weaver's disembodied voice
responded. It was Sally, of course, and by her tone she
was more than a little amused by the situation. "Wait,
should I be addressing you as 'Mistress?' Wouldn't 'Damsel
Roget' be more appropriate?"
Bethany ignored the protocol question. "I assume you're
recording all of this?"
"As always. Would you like me to transmit a copy to the
High Council of Riggers Archive in the Riggers Tower, High
Jane smiled. "Go away, Sally."
"Going away," Sally purred.
"She's still recording, of course," Jane chuckled, smiling at
"As always," Damsel Roget agreed, "which means I'll be able to
revel in all the details of your technique at my leisure.
Now, about our new Sister, Penny Parr. You've read
my reports: plays well with others but has been known to run
with scissors. Do you have any additional guidance?"
"Our program for Sister Parr has been flexible thus far, and
should remain so. Keep an eye on her, as will Sisters Gwyn
and Mandy, as will Sally―"
"Hey! Sister Sally," Sally interrupted. "A
little respect, if you please."
"Thank you, Cyber-Sister Sally," Jane laughed. "Now, go
away, as you were told."
"Going, going, gone!" Sally responded.
"Where was I?" Jane frowned.
"We're all keeping an eye on Penny," Bethany prompted.
"Exactly," Jane nodded. "We'll deal with anything untoward
she might attempt, and I trust Sisters Gwyn and Mandy not to let
her lead them into mischief... meaning unsanctioned
It was Bethany's turn to nod. "Agreed." Then, her
dimpled smile turned decidedly coy (possibly saucy).
"I know why you didn't gag me," she said quietly.
Jane's smiled. "Do tell."
"You expect me to squirm up there and lick your pussy," Bethany
Jane chuckled. "I expect more than that. I expect
your tongue, lips, and teeth to do a great deal of thrusting,
sucking, and nibbling."
Bethany's pale blue eyes widened, as did her smile.
"Gumming," Jane amended.
Bethany's saucy smile returned. "I also know why I don't
have a crotch-rope to deal with."
"Actually," Jane purred, "It would have been a crotch-harness
that both cleaved your pussy and pinched your labia
Bethany sighed. "With knots, of course."
"For the cleaving ropes, of course," Jane agreed, "but pray
"A crotch-rope... excuse me... a crotch-harness would
get in the way of your lips, tongue, and teeth."
Jane raised an eyebrow (and smiled). "Are you topping from
the bottom, Snowflake?"
Bethany pouted. "I hate that nick-name," she muttered.
Jane's smile was unchanged. "But it fits you so well,
with your fair, pale, some would say sepulchral complexion.
You're a little sunburned, by the way."
"Which was why you rubbed lotion all over my body midway through
crafting your rigging masterpiece," Bethany purred.
"Sister Penny is also a little sunburned," Jane
stated. "I hope someone is seeing to that." She
stretched her arms before continuing. "Actually, I noticed
she seems to have developed a few freckles to go with her pink
glow. I think the little darling is one of those blondes."
Bethany's eyes widened with interest. "Freckles? I
like freckles. How did I miss that? Are you
"Attention to detail, Damsel Snowflake," Jane scolded with mock
severity. "They're very subtle, but I think Penny
might very well be a freckle-blonde."
Bethany chewed her lower lip and focused on infinity (either
that or Jane's prominently displayed crotch). "Perhaps
with more exposure... Being careful not to let her burn,
"Of course," Jane agreed, then indicated her pussy with a
graceful, languid flip of her right wrist.
Bethany heaved a tragic sigh. "It's going to be exquisitely
painful to wiggle, squirm, and inchworm my way all the
way up to that thing."
"In an overly dramatic mood are we, Snowflake?" Jane purred.
Bethany glared at her guest. "Well... if not painful...
"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs," Jane noted.
Bethany rolled her eyes. "Also, apparently, you can't lick
a pussy without dragging your tits and the rest of your hogtied
body halfway up the bed."
"That too," Jane agreed.
Bethany did so―meaning dragged her tits and the rest of her
hogtied self halfway up the bed―Ow!―Jane's rope-work
inflicting a pinching, squeezing "massage" the entire way―Ow!―and
the evening's festivities escalated to a new level.
|The Perils of Penny Parr