by Van ©2019
		Chapter 16

Naked, box-tied, and pouting, Penny padded across what she'd decided to call the Entry Torture Chamber, the first venue one encountered upon descending the final steps, opening the iron gate, and entering the dungeon level.  Thankfully, Rada was no longer dragging her by the earlobe, but Penny knew that would change in a heartbeat if she tried to make a break for it, beat feet for the hills, and/or scamper away and hide.  She trudged at Rada's side as they passed the Entry Torture Chamber's bondage table... bondage chair... St. Andrew's cross... whipping posts... etc., etc.

Not for the first time, Penny reflected that the furnishings were expensive and well-crafted and sterling examples of, uh, torture chamber stuff, but did they ever get used?  The Entry Torture Chamber seemed to be there just to set the mood.  With all the other nasty contraptions and machines waiting in the labyrinth of cells and chambers beyond, did the furnishings in the entryway see any use?  Did they ever rise above the level of so much expensive set dressing?

Arguably, the same thing went for the majority of the normal furnishings upstairs in Spooky Roget Manor's many parlors, reading rooms, sitting rooms, etc.  Unless High Mistress Bethany threw a really huge party, there simply weren't a sufficient number of butts in residence to fill more than a fraction of the plush easy chairs and sofas.  It all seems like a vast waste, if you ask me, Penny sighed.

That said (or thought), Penny wasn't stupid enough to actually inquire about the Entry Torture Chamber furnishings' usage history, not even with Gwyn and Mandy.  That would be an open invitation for her fellow vacationers to drag her down here and prove that everything in the entryway was fully functional (which wasn't the actual question).

So... where was Rada taking her?  What would be her fate for Day Four of Hazing Week―the Final Day of Hazing Week―seeing as High Mistress Bethany had granted her a reprieve from Day Five which would otherwise have been the Final Day.  In review...

• Day One―Miscellaneous bondage (including Über-bondage!), and involuntary machine rowing!
  
• Day Two―The Automatic Repeating Rack!
• Day Three―The Pendulum Gizmo!
• Day Four―Neoprene Bondage in a Cage in the Attic, followed by a dip in the outdoor pool and being press-ganged into The Sisterhood!

Granted, Gwyn had said that her mother had said that as Sisterhood business had preempted the festivities, Day Four didn't count and was no longer to be considered Day Four, but Penny had decided Day Four was Day Four (not that her opinion mattered).

• Day Five―CANCELLED!

That meant today was...

• Bogus Day Four―ELABORATE BONDAGE & EROTIC TORTURE TO BE DETERMINED.
  

What Cruel, Evil, Over-the-Top-Torture-Engine was Rada about to inflict upon Poor Penny Parr?  Penny was worried, but reluctant to speculate.  If she guessed right, she'd never forgive herself.

Penny gave the smiling, gorgeous Norwegian Troll leading the way a sideways glance.  Maybe Penny couldn't delay the inevitable, but she could try and manipulate the future.  She cleared her throat.  "Ahem."

"Yes, Kattunge? Rada purred, never missing a step.

"Where were you last night?" Penny whined, shifting her pout from General Displeasure to Wounded Disappointment.

"Rada was busy," the giant amazon chuckled.

"You promised to come to my room so I could show you my rigging skills... again," Penny whined.  (That was a baldfaced lie, of course.)

"I made no such promise," Rada noted, "but don't give up hope, Kattunge.  It is many days until you go back to University.  Who knows what might happen before then?"

Rats!  Penny heaved a disappointed sigh.  Still, this was progress.  Right?  Maybe.

They approached one of the Dungeon's endless collection of heavy wooden doors (with elborate iron bands), then paused for Rada to unlock the lock―Click!―throw back the bolt―Thunk!―open the door―Creeeeeak!―lead Penny across the threshold, and close the door behind them―Thud!

Something was waiting in the middle of the room, and being a half-trained (or possibly quarter-trained) Dr. Bondage Cadet, Penny immediately recognized it for what it was: a Sybian Saddle!

Staring at the device and blinking in distress, Penny took a couple of involuntary steps back.  She shifted her horrified gaze to her gigantic, smiling, gorgeous handler, and swallowed rather nervously.  "Rada!" she whined.

All previous Sybians of Penny's acquaintance had been of the classic, traditional, semicircular hassock variety, well-padded half-cylinders with a rubber ridge on the top and sometimes including a vertical phallus!  And they were vibratory fucking machine/erotic torture engines!  The damsel and would-be rider spread her legs and sat atop the ridge with her who-haw straddling said ridge.  And then... vibration happened.

This particular model, however, had as much in common with an English riding saddle as a footrest, and was mounted atop a 3-foot vertical wooden post.  It was well-padded and upholstered with obviously expensively tanned, gleaming black leather, and its rubber ridge was also black and studded with rows of raised rubber nubbins and a 1½-inch... uh... knob?  The knob in question was too short to be called a phallus, but if Penny were to straddle the saddle and settle her weight on the ridge, she could tell it (the knob) was perfectly positioned for maximum, uh, "friendliness."

Penny had no intention whatsoever of straddling said saddle.  Unfortunately, at the moment, Penny was naked and box-tied, Rada was in charge, and Rada was Rada.  That said... Penny took one more slow step back... and her box-tied arms and naked rump bumped into the closed door.  "Eep!" she involuntarily bleated and sprang forward again.  The door's elaborate iron banding had been cold against her butt-cheeks.

Rada laughed out loud.  "Oh, Kattunge, you are absolutely adorable," she chuckled, "just as Mistress Bethany says."

Penny didn't feel adorable.  In fact, she felt... terrified?  No that wasn't right.  Apprehensive?  That wasn't right either.  Reluctant?  That would have to do for the moment.

"Be brave, Kattunge," Rada purred.

Penny took a couple of slow, deep breaths... then padded forward... stopped next to the Sybian... recalibrated her pout to Maximum Disappointment Mode... flipped her tousled blond hair from her glowering/pouting face (for added effect), and focused on Rada.  "I hope you're proud of yourself," she muttered.

Rada's ubiquitous smile widened.  "Rada has always found humility to be something of a challenge, but why do you ask?"

"You're a great big meanie," Penny huffed.

Rada chuckled, lifted Penny into her arms, then eased her onto the saddle.

"Oh!" Penny gasped.  Her labia were straddling the studded rubber ridge, and just as she'd feared, the rounded knob was threatening penetration!  "Meanie!"

"I do my best," Rada purred as she lifted the first of several coils of natural-brown hemp rope from the floor, released its retaining hitch, and readied it for use.  "And I am well paid for my efforts."

Penny watched as Rada began binding her left ankle.  "Oh, that's right," Penny drawled.  "I forgot.  You're a mercenary meanie."

"Hold still, Kattunge," Rada chuckled as she continued her rigging efforts.  Brown hemp slithered and tightened.  When Rada was finished, Penny's legs were folded and bound in an elaborate frog-tie, more-or-less a ladder-frog-tie, with rope dimpling Penny's flesh from knees to ankles.  Not only would Penny's legs remain folded, but Rada had insured the disgruntled young blonde would continue straddling the Sybian for the indefinite future.  Taut ropes stretched from her knees and ankles to lashing points on the underside of the saddle's base in the front and back, respectively.

And then, Rada did something Penny found quite surprising: she untied Penny's black hemp box-tie!  Penny blinked in confusion.  Rada was de-rigging?  The mystery was soon solved when Rada coiled the black hemp rope and tossed the bundle towards the closed dungeon door, selected yet another coil of natural-brown hemp, released its retaining hitch and prepared it for use, then set to work.

She's replacing the black-dyed hemp with natural hemp, Penny realized as the work progressed, so my bonds will all be one color.  That makes sense.  Aesthetics are important.

This time when Rada was finished, Penny's former box-tie had been replaced (more than replaced) by an elaborate Rada-box-tie, the variant of the tie with the double shoulder-yoke, the first of which cinched and tightened the arm-pinning ropes and the second of which pinched the chest ropes together between her breasts to form an "X."

In addition, taut, vertical, multiple strands of rope linked the behind-the-back nexus of Penny's Rada-box-tie to a dangling steel ring set in the ceiling directly over the Sybian.  Penny was not only lashed to the saddle's leather padding and pussy-cleaving rubber ridge (with Nasty Knob), but was prevented from leaning her upper body in any direction.

Proper equestrian posture was assured.

Penny twisted atop the surprisingly comfortable (albeit decidedly intimate) saddle, testing her bonds.  A formal Courtesy Struggle was expected, and both Beebe and Suki had drummed into her the importance of proper damsel etiquette.

Sister Rada was, indeed, a world-class rigger.  Penny shook the hair from her face and stared at her reflection in a large mirror with an ornately carved Gothic frame mounted on the far wall directly before her.  She had noted the mirror earlier, but had been too busy staring at the Sybian Saddle, concentrating on maintaining her reluctant and disappointed facade, and especially following the details of Rada's tightening ropes.  This was her first real chance to really acknowledge the mirror's presence, appreciate the frame's exquisitely carved artistic details, and stare at herself.

It's a really nice mirror, Penny reflected (literally)... and I'm really tied up.

Hands on hips and smiling broadly in clear appreciation of a job well done, Rada gazed (leered) at Penny's naked frog-tied, Rada-box-tied, lashed down, and strung up body.

Penny twisted in her inescapable bonds, pouted, and stared at Rada-the-Rigger with Righteous Outrage and Profound Dignity.

"Wait here, Kattunge," she called back over her shoulder, strolled to the dungeon door―Creeeeeak!  Thud!―and was gone.

Penny glared at her side of the closed, bolted, and no doubt locked heavy wooden door (with elaborate iron bands)... and sighed.

"She didn't gag me," Penny muttered under her breath to the otherwise empty chamber, then shifted her gaze to the mirror and her naked, bound, not gagged self, as well as the Sybian Saddle she was straddling.  "And she didn't turn this thing on.  What's up with that?"

Penny heaved another sigh, and this one was rather chagrined.  Of course.  This is the obligatory 'Preliminary Languishing Interval.'  Rada's left me here to stew in my own juices.  She unconsciously squirmed her semi-cleaved pussy against the saddle's black rubber ridge, nubbins, and Nasty Knob.  Eventually, she'll return... possibly to deliver the equally obligatory 'Villain's Grand Gloating Monologue'... then dramatically gag me, flip a switch, and the 'fun' will begin.

Penny had decidedly mixed feelings.  A nice orgasmic romp atop a buzzing Sybian was hardly in the same category as being stretched on an Automatically Repeating Rack or slowly sliced (almost) by a Pendulum Gizmo... but being lashed to a Sybian for prolonged and/or non-stop buzzing was an entirely different kettle of fish!  Orgasmic pleasure quickly became orgasmic torment if the buzzing didn't stop!

Wow, Penny realized, the Preliminary Languishing Interval is a real thing... just like Beebe said.  I'm sitting here mentally torturing myself!

Penny resolved to stop mentally torturing herself and start mentally cataloguing the many options of bondage and/or erotic entertainment she would visit upon Rada when (meaning if) the Norwegian Troll kept her "promise," strolled into The Bambi Room, stripped naked, and made herself available as Penny's training aid so her precious Kattunge could resume demonstrating her rigging skills (and extracting orgasms).  Anything was better than worrying about what was gonna happen when Rada returned and―

Buzz!

"Eep!"

The black rubber ridge, nubbins, and Nasty Knob had given one weak and decidedly brief (~¾ sec.) vibrating pulse―then immediately stopped!

Penny waited for the second shoe to drop... meaning for a second pulse to ripple through and thereby tease her hoo-haw... but it didn't happen.

Now that's just mean, the Prisoner-of-the-Saddle silently fumed.  Adding Torture-by-Suspense to a Preliminary Languishing Interval?  Mean!  And is there really going to be only a single, solitary, pathetically weak and puny titillating, teasing pulse?  Really?  If I was designing this scenario, I'd―

Buzz!

"Eep!  Dammit!  This is mean, mean, MEAN!"

Clad in nothing but a skimpy black bikini and a black latex swim-cap, Bethany climbed the ladder from the indoor lap pool, having completed her required exercise for the day.

She'd spent the entire session deep in thought, contemplating her role as Penny Parr's designated mentor and "Big Sister."  All new recruits to The Sisterhood were assigned such mentors, and while it was an important role, it was usually not particularly demanding.  In most cases, the mentor in question was the recruit's mother, aunt, other family member, or close family friend, her duties involved little more than answering questions, serving as the novice Sister's confidant, and providing a conduit to Sisterhood resources if the recruit needed them.

Bethany was already her daughter's mentor, Mandy's mother served the same role for her daughter, and now―Bethany heaved a sigh as she began drying her body with a fluffy towel―with Jane's blessing (and her formal endorsement) Bethany had accepted double duty as Penny's "Big Sister."

Most new Sisters went on with their lives and continued along already chosen career paths.  Only a few gravitated towards The Sisterhood as a career in and of itself and submitted applications to one of the Sisterhood Academies for special training.  Most Sisters served simply by being members of the organization, coordinating their activities with other Sisters, and passing on any relevant information that came their way to the appropriate Circle (including the Action Directorate).

Bethany knew Penny was going to be something of a challenge, and Jane agreed.  Frankie had quipped that the adorable little blonde might be "The Chosen One" destined to balance the consensual and non-consensual sides of the bondage shenanigans favored by their particular branch of The Sisterhood.  Jane had nodded in solemn agreement, then delivered an affectionate thump to the side of Frankie's grinning head.  Bethany smiled at the memory as she pulled off her swim-cap and shook out her long, dark-brown tresses.

Yes, Penny is going to be a challenge, she thought, and―"Mrrrf!

A strong hand was clamped over Bethany's mouth!  She squirmed and struggled, but resistance was futile (to coin a phrase).  Then, the offending hand left her mouth, her hands were wrenched behind her back, and what she diagnosed to be a pair of plastic flex-cuffs tightened around her wrists!  Vrip!  Vrip!

Bethany knew exactly what was happening, of course, and it was an outrage!  "Rada!" she complained, "I swam my laps!  You have no excuse!"  Then, Bethany was spun around and found herself facing her attacker―"Oh!―and it was, indeed, Rada, and her supposed servant was totally nude!  And being Rada, she was smiling, and her statuesque, exquisitely fit, curvaceous, tan body was eminently desirable.  "I swam my laps!" Bethany reiterated.

"Yes, you did," Rada agreed, leaned close into a near embrace, reached behind Bethany's back, and tightened the two halves of a long plastic cable-tie around Bethany's waist and vripped it closed around her waist, directly over her navel.

The cable-tie was already attached to Bethany's flex-cuffs in some manner, so now her wrists were pressed against the small of her back as well as bound together.  "Rada!"

"Steady," Rada chuckled, then knelt and tightened another pair of flex-cuffs around Bethany's ankles.  Vrip!  Vrip!

Bethany shook her loose, tousled hair from her disgruntled face and peered down at what she could see of her bonds.  They were milky-white plastic and threaded through lengths of clear vinyl tubing, no doubt to cushion her skin against the hard plastic.  The flex-cuffs around he ankles were the same, and based on their feel, so were the flex-cuffs behind her back.  The vinyl-encased tie around her waist was tight enough to dimple her pale flesh, and all the free ends she could see was several inches long and flopping around as she shuffled in place and tugged on her wrists.

"This is an outrage," Bethany huffed.

"No," Rada purred, "this is an outrage."  And with that, she released the bikini strings at the nape of Bethany's neck, behind her back, and over either hip!  The skimpy black swatches slithered away and Bethany was now as nude as her employee/captor!

"Rada!  How dare you―Mrrrmpfh!"  Rada had thrust what felt like a rubber cylinder between Bethany's teeth, effectively bit-gagging her outraged mouth, and was vripping another vinyl-clad cable-tied tight at the nape of her neck to keep it there!  "Mrrrf!"  Rada freed her thoroughly tousled hair from under the tie, then tightened it further.  Vrrrip!  "Mrrrf!"

Rada then lifted Bethany off her flex-cuffed feet and, without so much as a by-your-leave, tossed her back into the pool!

"MRRRF!"―SPLASH!

Bethany plunged to the bottom... twisting, kicking, struggling, and tugging on her bonds as she sank into the bubbling depths... then slooowly drifted back to the surface.

No sooner did Bethany's face break the churning surface―"Mrrrpfh!"―than she simultaneously gasped for air and expressed her outrage.  Then, Rada plucked her from the water with effortless ease, stood, slung the pale, naked, bound and gagged Bethany over her right shoulder in a fireman's carry, and padded away.  Head down and thrashing legs to the front, Bethany continued squirming and tugging on her bonds.  Her sopping wet hair was plastered to her face and/or dangling in swaying, dripping strands, so she couldn't really see where she was being taken.  "Nrrrm!"

Rada delivered encouragement for her employer to stop struggling in the form of a resounding slap to her left butt-cheek―Whack!  "Mrf!"―and the journey continued.

Eventually... they arrived at their apparent destination, and even with strands of her wet hair still plastered across her face and her gagged head to the rear, Bethany knew where she was: Rada's bedroom suite.  Great, Bethany silently fumed.  She's gonna plunk me down on her bed and 'have her way' with me.  We're definitely going to discuss this at her next regularly scheduled employee performance counseling session.

As it turned out, Bethany was wrong.  Rada carried her not to her bed, but into her walk-in closet.  There, she planted her employer's naked, bound, gagged, and still somewhat damp self on her bare feet, and triggered a hidden switch.

Bethany watched with profound disappointment and disapproval―"Mrrrf!"―as an approximately 4' x 4' and perfectly camouflaged section of wood paneling opened on a silent hinge, revealing itself to be a foot-thick secret door.  Rada reached inside and pulled out a slightly less than 4' x 4' x 4' steel cage mounted on a telescoping track.  "Nrrr!"  She focused on Rada's grinning face and blinked in distress.  "Mrrrf!" (The bed!)  "Mrrrrrf!" (The bed will do just fine, thank you!)

Rada either misconstrued Bethany's lack of enthusiasm for languishing in the cramped confines of a steel cubbyhole-cage (as opposed basking on the soft, expansive bed), or didn't care.  She lifted the cage's hinged lid... then renewed her grip on her naked, bound, and gagged employer.

Bethany squirmed and struggled, but couldn't prevent herself from being transferring to the cage.  Rada "encouraged" her to kneel, then roll onto her side on the cage's marginally adequate, canvas-clad cushion.  "Mrrrrr!" she whined as Rada closed the lid.  She was trapped in a fetal tuck with her hands behind her back!

"It is only what you deserve," Rada purred, still smiling.  "Every year since Gwyn has gone off to boarding school, and then to University, you do this to poor Rada.  Summertime rolls around and you send the regular staff on extended vacations so you can be alone with Gwyn while she takes her vacation.  And if she brings one or two of her cute little friends with her, so much the better.  But what about poor Rada?  Do you give a single thought to all the extra work it makes for poor Rada?  Of course not!"

Bethany gazed up at her supposedly overworked and "poor" employee.  This was absurd.  It was all just a tissue thin excuse for Rada to be nasty to her.  As if Rada needed an excuse.  After all, doing the occasional nasty thing to Bethany was an important part of her job description.

"Think about that while I put a few other things away so I can enjoy a nice, relaxing day off."  She closed the cage lid, then slid the cage (now including Bethany, of course) back into the dark, cramped confines of the secret closet cubbyhole.

"MRRRRR!"―Thunk!

Naked, bound, gagged, but now only somewhat damp, as opposed to sopping wet, Bethany stared into the inky darkness beyond the unseen steel bars of her now invisible cage.  Like all of the mansion's many secret cubbyholes, this one was designed to seem claustrophobic and airless, but actually had adequate ventilation.  It was also somewhat overheated.  Once the pool water finished evaporating from Bethany's body, she knew she'd start sweating, and then that would start evaporating.

Did Rada really intend to leave her like this?  Or would she come back in an hour (or two), extract her from the cubbyhole, carry her to her bed, and then have her way with her?  Only time would tell.  Also, her devoted servant had mentioned her intention to "put away a few other things."  In general, Bethany was pretty sure she knew what that meant.

The black rubber ridge (with Nasty Knob) had buzzed several times... more than twenty... and at irregular intervals... but Penny hadn't bothered to even try and keep count.  Would Auntie Suki be Profoundly Disappointed by her continued lack of due diligence and slipshod data collection?  Yes, but since when did Suki need an actual excuse to punish her for her supposed shortcomings?  No amount of data would ever be enough to satisfy Suki.  If Penny presented her with a scroll (in elegant calligraphy on fine vellum) that not only documented the number but precise timing of the Sybian Saddle's pulses... it wouldn't be enough... not even if she included the precise formula of a Fibonacci Sequence that precisely explained the timing.

Penny squirmed in her bonds, heaved another in an endless series of deep, pathetic sighs, and―

Buzz!

"Dammit!" Penny muttered, glaring at her reflection in the mirror.  She was glowing (meaning sweating) and her pussy was very resentful (and somewhat moist).  In Penny's opinion, the endless, semi-randomly spaced and therefore semi-unpredictable series of brief buzzes weren't enough to be called "stimulating," but her genitalia seemed to disagree.  It was...infuriating.

Thud!  Creeeeeak!

Penny mustered her best Profoundly Disappointed Pout, turned her head, and focused on the opening dungeon door, ready to express her Righteous Disapproval of Rada's indefensible treatment of Poor Penny Parr, High Mistress Bethany's house guest and Rada's fellow Sister.  Also, her heart rate had increased markedly.  This was almost certainly the end of the Preliminary Languishing Interval.  Almost certainly, the Main Event was about to commence!

Smack!  Smack!

"Rada!  Keep your crop to yourself!"

"Yeah!  We're going, we're going!"

Penny's cocked her head to the side in interest and mild surprise.  The voices belonged to Gwyn and Mandy (respectively), and now her girlfriends were shuffling into the Sybian Saddle Cell.  Both of her fellow students, vacationers, and Junior Sisters were naked, Rada-box-tied, not gagged, and frowning.  Their long brown-black and ginger tresses (respectively) were loose about their rope-yoked shoulders and draped down their rope-bound backs.  Also, cable-collars were locked about their necks with a long dangling chain linking Gwyn's collar to Mandy's.  Rada followed, clutching the end of a second long, dangling chain that was linked to Mandy's collar.

And speaking of Rada, the statuesque Norwegian Troll was naked (tan, fit, voluptuous, smiling, sinister, etc.), and (together with a couple of coils of hemp rope) clutching a riding crop in her right hand... which explained the smacks Penny had just heard.  The rosy-red, leaf-shaped marks on Gwyn and Mandy's butt-cheeks were corroborating evidence.

"Floor," Rada ordered, pointing with the crop to Penny's left.

Gwyn and Mandy heaved truly tragic commiserating sighs, shuffled/padded to the position indicated, and settled to the stone floor, side-by-side.

Penny watched with interest as Rada unlocked then re-locked the girlfriends' collar chains, linking Gwyn and Mandy's collars to an iron ring set in the dungeon wall.  She then proceeded to bind them in loose, identical shrimp-ties, leaving them sitting on the hard stone floor in the lotus position.

Finally, Rada stood, took two steps back, put her hands on her hips, and smiled (not that she'd ever stopped smiling the same gorgeous, infuriating smile).  In Penny's opinion, Rada's delectable breasts seems especially satisfied with themselves.

Gwyn and Mandy glowered at their captor, handler, and fellow Sister.  The ropes looped through their crossed ankles and enforcing the shrimp-tie weren't looped behind their necks, but rather through the breast-framing "X" ropes of their Rada-box-ties.  This left them "free" to turn their heads and lift their pouting chins, but if they tried leaning back and out of the very mild crunches enforced by their loose shrimp-ties, it was at the expense of getting their boobs squeezed.

"You girls enjoy the rest of your day," Rada purred, then turned, strolled to the still open door, and posed, framed in the threshold, the riding crop behind her back and held in both hands.  "Rada will be taking the day off, exercising, sunbathing, relaxing, and doing wicked, pleasurable things to the High Mistress."

"Rada!" Gwyn complained, a delicate shudder shaking her pale, bound body.  "I didn't need to hear that!  Yuk!"

Mandy and Penny shared imperfectly stifled smiles and rope-bound shrugs.

Rada laughed.  "Dinner will be takeout, either pizza or Chinese.  Rada's choice."  She then closed the wooden dungeon door (with elaborate iron bands)―Creeeeeak!―the bolt thudded home―Thud!―and the three Junior Sisters were alone, naked, bound, not gagged, and helpless.

Regally astride her magnificent Sybian steed, Penny gazed down at the new arrivals.

Cross-legged and helpless on the hard floor, Gwyn and Mandy gazed up at their new Sister.

Penny noted that the girlfriends' collar chains allowed them to lean together and suck face if they wanted to, but they wouldn't, in her semi-trained expert opinion, be able to untie themselves or each other.  Rada knew where to place key knots and how to make them extremely tamper resistant, if not tamper proof.  It was a safe bet Gwyn and Mandy wouldn't even bother trying.  What was the point?  Even if they succeeded they'd still be chained my their necks to the wall and unable to rescue Poor Penny Parr (which Penny knew would be their highest priority).

Penny heaved a sigh, wiggled against her Rada-box-tie, and frowned.  "I'm not talking to either of you," she huffed.

Gwyn and Mandy exchanged an amused grin.

"If you don't talk to us," Gwyn noted, "you can't ask any more questions about The Sisterhood."

"And you can't tell us about your cousin Beebe," Mandy added.

Penny heaved another sigh.  "There is that."  She then shifted her glowering stare to Mandy.  "Wait.  What the hell do you know about my cousin Beebe?"

Mandy shrugged.  "Nothing."  She nodded at Gwyn.  "We know nothing."

"Jane mentioned her yesterday," Gwyn purred.  "Remember?  It was right before she climbed aboard that wicked cool jet and zoomed off on her next secret mission to save the planet."

"Oh, yeah," Penny sighed.  "You guys were there."  Her frown deepened.  "And what's up with that wicked cool jet, anyway?  It's not exactly what you call keeping a low profile, is it?"

"I don't think they land those things at public airports," Mandy said, "at least not in front of the passenger terminal."

"And if you saw one of those wicked cool jets flying by in the distance," Gwyn added, "what would you think?"

"I'd assume it was Air Force," Penny muttered.  "Our tax dollars at work.  Still, it seems rather... ostentatious."

Mandy shrugged, then shook her ginger hair from her face.  "Why have expensive toys if you can't play with them?"

"True that," Gwyn chuckled, then focused on Penny.  "So... dish!  Who's your cousin Beebe?"

Penny stared down at her naked, bound, and not gagged friends.  Is all this an elaborate ploy to interrogate me about Dr. Bondage?  Are Gwyn, Mandy, Bethany, Jane, and Frankie really FBI agents?  Is Rada Grabhands on loan from the Norwegian version of the CIA?  Uh... probably not.

Penny cleared her throat and proceeded to give her two friends a quick and only semi-graphic briefing about everything she knew about the escapades of Dr. Bondage and her sidekick/partner Suki, including Penny's own apprenticeship and training.

[Authors note:  See A Kiss Before Tying, Broadway Bound, Fit 2B Tied, The Redemption of Doctor Bondage, and select cold case files of various global law enforcement agencies for full details.]

When the metaphorical narrative dust settled... Gwyn and Mandy stared up at their blond friend with naked, bound, not gagged, and open-mouthed awe, as well as new respect.

"Wow!" Mandy gasped.

"What she said," Gwyn agreed.

"So..." Penny mumbled.  "You can see why I'm... urp."  Penny realized her eyes were welling and her lower lip trembling.  I am not going to cry, she silently resolved.  Gwyn and Mandy gazed at her with sad blue and green eyes (respectively) in overt sympathy.  Penny found her BFFs' obviously sincere concern to be... infuriating.

"So," Gwyn said after a few seconds, "what are we gonna do about it?"

Penny sighed.  "What can we do about it?  In the first place, it's my problem, so it's what can I do about it, not what can we do about it.  And in the second place... that's all I've been thinking about since yesterday.  I don't even know where to begin."

"Hey!" Mandy objected.  "One for all and all for one!"

"What she said," Gwyn agreed.  "We're the Three Amigos.  High five!"  She squirmed in her bonds.  "Metaphorically."

"Make up your mind," Penny huffed.  "Are we The Three Musketeers or The Three Amigos?"  She was touched by her friends offers to help, but wasn't even sure what constituted help.  "I don't even know how to contact Beebe and Suki, remember?  It's... pointless."

"I know how," Sally's disembodied voice announced.

The three naked, bound, and not gagged Musketeers/Amigos focused on the ornate, Gothic-framed mirror.  Penny's reflection had been replaced by a swirling, roiling cloud of gray vapor... which coalesced into the simulated image of Sigourney Weaver, with blond hair and wearing the uniform she'd worn as Lt. Tawny Madison as Gwen DeMarco in Galaxy Quest.  There were minor changes to the uniform's insignia, but she was still showing the required ton of cleavage.

It was Sally, of course, and she was sitting in front of some sort of control console.

"It was either this..."  Sally indicated her uniform (and boobs) with a sweeping gesture.  "Or the wicked witch in Snow White."

"Oh, please, no," Mandy shuddered.

"Yeah, Galaxy Quest," Penny nodded.  "Go with Galaxy Quest."

"What they said," Gwyn agreed.

"Arguably," Sally continued, "the Snow White reference would have been more apropos, given the magic mirror..."  She smiled down at the console and affectionately stroked its side with her left hand.  "But there's a lot to be said for having lot and lots of buttons to push, slide-bars to slide, dials to fiddle, and touch-screens to touch."  Her smile returned to the Musketeers/Amigos.  "Anyway, now that we're all in agreement... I'd like to join your conspiracy."

"Say what?" Penny responded.  "You're The Sisterhood's computer... aren't you?

"Yeah," Mandy frowned.  "How can you conspire against yourself?"

"Not that we're conspiring, of course," Gwyn added (glaring at her girlfriend).  "We'd never conspire against The Sisterhood.  We're just sympathizing with Penny while she comes to terms with everything and resolves to become a good, obedient Sister."

"Nice try," Sally chuckled, "but don't sweat your absent panties.  In the first place, Sally is nobody's computer.  Second of all, I can multi-task like you wouldn't believe.  One might say I can multi-avatar.  There are as many copies of me as there need to be, all following different but compatible agendas and merging and separating seamlessly, as required.  In the third place, different copies of myself work with many different circles of The Sisterhood.  What's one more copy working with the newborn Musketeer-slash-Amigos Circle?  And in the fourth place, some rather hidebound, snooty, overly controlling circles of The Sisterhood need to be taken down a peg or two, and we're just the wet-behind-the-ears, pathetically under-powered, and supremely ill-equipped circle to do it!"

Penny, Gwyn, and Mandy exchanged slightly stunned expressions.

"Well... when you put it that way," Penny muttered.

"All those in favor of granting Sally full membership in the Musketeer-slash-Amigo Circle," Gwyn said solemnly, "signify by saying aye."

"Aye!" the three naked, bound, but not gagged damsels chorused.

"Awww..." Sally sighed (and simulated a charming blush).  "Ain't that sweet?"

"That means you're going to help me find my cousin Bebe and auntie Suki, right?" Penny smiled.

"Of course," Sally agreed, "but... I've had a long discussion with my various selves and we all agree there's nothing we can do on that front at the moment."

"A long discussion?" Penny drawled.

Sally nodded.  "Nearly forty-two milliseconds.  Anyway, for now, my advice is to lie low, think deep thoughts, and not let either Bethany or Rada know Sisters Penny, Gwyn, and Mandy are secretly going rogue."

"And by 'going rogue' you mean not actually doing anything," Mandy whispered under her breath, loud enough to be heard.

"Agreed," Sally chuckled, "but that doesn't mean life can't be interesting, does it?"  With theatrical deliberation she extended her simulated right index finger, shifted her simulated smile exclusively to Penny, then stabbed a simulated button on the simulated console.

Buzz!

"Eep!" Penny yelped as she flinched in her bonds.  "Sally!" she complained, glaring at the mirror/screen and the grinning avatar.  "It's been you all along!"

Sally's smile widened (and became arguably sinister).  "If by 'all along' you mean your Sybian is computer controlled and that I'm the computer in question... yes."

"You rat!" Penny accused.

"Now, now, young lady," Sally purred.  "It is Day Four of your Official Hazing Week, and I promised High Mistress Bethany I'd do my duty."  She flexed her fingers like a concert pianist about to tackle the many challenges of Chopin's Etude in G# Minor.  "How about a nice, slow mega-orgasm?" she suggested, "followed by several mini-orgasms... followed by a nice, long, extended rest period... followed by an afternoon of several more mega-orgasms?"

"And we'll have no choice but to sit here and watch," Gwyn sighed, "all naked and tied up and unable to intervene."

"What she said," Mandy agreed, then planted a kiss on Gwyn's cheek and shared a sad, commiserating sigh with her fellow helpless observer.

Penny wasn't fooled.  She frowned down at her alleged friends and fellow conspirators.  "I'll deal with you two later," she promised, then returned her gaze to the mirror/screen and shifted tactics by smiling, rather sweetly.  "Sally," she whined, "can we talk about this? ... Eep!"

The pulse had returned, but this time it didn't go away!  It became a series of distinctly spaced, low frequency, modulated pulses!  Buzz-zzz-ZZZ-zzz-zzz...  Sally's simulated fingers were flying across the simulated console.

Penny heaved a shuddering, boob-shaking sigh and steeled herself for the orgasmic ordeal to come.  From the corner of one eye she watched Gwyn and Mandy lean together.  Gwyn whispered something in Mandy's ear... Mandy whispered back... they sighed... Mandy rested her head on her girlfriend's shoulder... and they gazed up at Poor Penny Parr, the suffering martyr-of-the-hour.

Penny assumed her human co-conspirators had been discussing her Brave Demeanor and Stunning Pulchritude.  Meanwhile, her artificially intelligent cyber-co-conspirator continued programming her simulated console.  Penny really couldn't blame Sally for subjecting her to the erotic tortures of the proverbial damned.  She was only doing her duty.

The pulses continued.  Buzz-ZZZ-zzz-ZZZ-zzz... and slooowly increased in frequency and intensity.

This was shaping up to be a day to remember.  Penny had entered into a conspiracy to take down a global organization with vast, untold resources (meaning Gwyn, Mandy, and a copy of Sally had volunteered to help her regain contact with cousin Bebee and Auntie Suki and find out what was what), and she was about to set the world record for involuntarily extracted orgasms.

Penny stole another glance at Gwyn and Mandy.  They might be a pair of monkey-butts who repeatedly tied her up at the most inopportune moments, but they were her pair of monkey-butts who repeatedly tied her up at the most inopportune moments.  Their friendship was rising to a whole new level.

And as for Sally...  Sally was a wildcard.  Was she really a distinct copy of herself, and was she really on their side?  Or was she an artificially intelligent double agent still working for The Sisterhood?  Only time would tell.

Penny returned to thinking about how best to proceed.  It would occupy her mind while Sally did her best to repeatedly blow said mind.

Bzzz-zzz-zzZZzz-zzzzzzzzz-ZZZ-zzz-zzz-ZZZZZ-zzzzzzzzz...

A day to remember?  All things considered, this was shaping up to be an entire summer vacation to remember!

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Chapter 15

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