by Van © 2023

Chapter 4

Dramatis Personæ
Sam slowly opened her eyes.  There was light in the bedroom.  Not a lot of light.  In fact, the room was still technically what she'd have to characterize as "dark," but there was more light than could be accounted for by the bedroom's single nightlight, the only thing in the room that should shining.  Granted, her eyes were totally dark adapted and therefore more sensitive than when she'd gone to sleep, there there was still more light than she could account for.

The most reasonable explanation was that the sun was rising... or maybe had started thinking about rising.  Unfortunately, Sam was lying on her side and the bedroom windows that could have settled the question were behind her back and out of her line of sight.  If it was dawn(ish), light would be leaking around the drapes, even if they were closed, which they should be.  Yes, looking at the windows would settle the question.  Sam supposed she could simply turn over, lift her head, and look... but that seemed like a lot of effort... she was sooooo relaxed... and it would probably disturb whoever was lying on the bed with her and sprawled against her left side with an arm draped across her waist, which would be inconsiderate... downright rude.

Sam's green eyes popped wide and she did, in fact, roll over.  She also propped herself up on her right elbow and looked at the owner of the arm in question!

By the way, dim light was, indeed, leaking around the edges of the closed drapes.  Not a lot of light, but more than enough to support the early sunrise theory.

Also, the arm and body sharing the bed with her belonged to Danica Nordberg!

A flood of relief and/or bewilderment swept through Sam's half-awake mind.  Of course it's Danica.  Sam had gone to sleep with the naked, bound, and gagged blonde lying next to her, so it had to be Danica!  Who else could it be?  The only problem was that Sam's blond, fair-skinned, curvaceous, beautiful, and/or super-cute assistant was supposed to be naked, bound, and gagged!  She wasn't!

Sam and Danica were both still more-or-less under the rumpled bedclothes, so while Sam couldn't see all of her bed-mate's body, but she could see that the top of Danica's pale-blue, gauze-thin, very frilly and girlie baby-doll nightie was definitely back in its rightful place!  (Whether or not the matching frilly panties were also in place remained an open question.)  Also, there was zero sign of the thin, white, ¼" nylon ropes/cords that Sam herself had used to so tightly and skillfully (if she did say so herself) tie up Danica's formerly naked body!  Likewise, the butternut-tan panel-gag (with lime-green mouth-filling ball and chin strap) was also missing!  Danica was bondage free!

Also, she was awake!  Danica was awake!  Her blue eyes were sparkling, evident even in the sparse light, and her lips were curled in a saucy smile.

Sam blinked in amazement.  "What the hell happened?"

"I escaped, of course," Danica chuckled.  "I give you an 'A' for effort... but I'm afraid you've failed the test."

"How?" Sam demanded.

"Skill and experience on my part," Danica smiled.  "Don't worry.  You'll do much better after a little instruction."

Sam frowned.  "Wait, failed?"  (Sam hated failing.)

Danica shrugged.  "Your damsel escaped.  What can you call that other than a fail?"

This did nothing to improve Sam's mood.  Also... (Sam blushed)... she'd meant to let Danica struggle in her "inescapable" bondage for several minutes, then untie her.  Instead, she'd fallen asleep!  Fortunately (meaning unfortunately), Danica had been able to untie herself, but that didn't get Sam off the hook!  She'd abandoned a naked, bound, and gagged damsel to writhe next to her on the bed all night long!  At the very least that was... impolite.

"Sorry," Sam muttered (still blushing).  "I meant to untie you."  With any luck, in the dim light Danica wouldn't see how embarrassed she was, but would still be able to tell she was sincere.

"Don't be embarrassed, darling," Danica giggled.

So much for that plan, Sam internally pouted.

"Now," Danica continued.  "It's too early to get up, so be a good student and settle back down."  She patted the bed at her side, squarely on the warm area recently vacated by Sam's upper body.

Sam heaved another sigh, then followed Danica's suggestion (order) and did, indeed, settle back onto her side with her back to her instructor, but not as close as she'd been when she woke to find Danica had somehow wiggled out of her bonds, wiggled back into her nightie, then wiggled next to her, and all without waking her inept captor!

"We'll try this again another time," Danica purred.

"Or," Sam said quietly, "since we tried it and it didn't work... we can just call the whole thing off... okay?"

"But that would be quitting, Sam, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," Sam sighed.  Failing was bad.  Quitting was worse.

"Besides," Danica added (and Sam could hear her smile), "you owe me for going to sleep and leaving me bound, gagged, and helpless."

Sam frowned into the semi-darkness.  Yes, I do... dammit.

Somewhere outside the bedroom window a bird started singing, making it official.  Dawn had arrived, or was arriving, or whatever.  In any case, it was still too early to get up.  Sam closed her eyes.


The next day, after the sun finally decided to cooperate by fully rising (and after a hearty breakfast) Sam and Danica were hard at work on the third floor of Nordberg Mansion.  The rooms were much larger and more cluttered with stuff than the tower-chambers and spire interiors above the roof-line, but they were also fewer in number.  The redhead and blonde were making steady progress.

Meanwhile, Kenzy had cornered Gabby and requested (in a polite, friendly, but persistent manner) to be shown the scene of yesterday's broken drawer debacle.  She was sure that something hinky (or in this case kinky) was afoot and wanted answers.

"I told you," Gabby said with a smile, "I handled it, and your Sam was hardly involved."  The blonde was dressed in sandals and a lightweight, pale-blue sundress (much like yesterday, although it was a different dress), and her hair was loose about her shoulders (which were bare if Kenzy ignored the pair of pale-blue, ultra-thin spaghetti straps).

"Sam is acting weird," Kenzy responded.  "She's doing her best to hide it, and I have insufficient grounds to order her to talk.  I need to see the scene of the crime."  Her smile took on a semi-sinister twist.  "Besides, as I recall, it's also the site of one of your family's kinky hobby furnishings, right?"

"And you're curious," Gabby purred.

Kenzy shrugged (innocently).  "A little."  She was wearing her usual work-boots and the same pair of olive-drab cargo shorts she'd worn yesterday, but she'd changed into a clean tank-top.  This one was a dusky shade of coral-red.

Gabby thought Kenzy's new tank-top was very pretty.  In fact, Kenzy-as-a-whole was very pretty.  Anyway...

Gabby surrendered and heaved a theatrical sigh.  "Follow me," she intoned as she spun on her sandal-clad heels and strolled away.

It didn't take long for the pair to reach the aforementioned scene of the crime, and once inside the tower room their respective reactions were as might be expected.

Gabby's smile never wavered as she strolled to the right-hand wardrobe and pointed down at the broken drawer and pile of barrel-keys still on the hardwood floor.  "There, see?  No big deal.  Sam says she thinks she can fix it... meaning the drawer."  She realized her ginger companion was still just inside the chamber and wasn't paying her much attention.  "Kenzy?"

Kenzy was transfixed by the gears and wheels and ratchets and pulleys against the far wall, as well as the chains stretching across the ceiling and down the walls on either side and either pooled on the floor or dangling just above.  Handywoman that she was, Kenzy had sussed out the functional details and obvious purpose of the mechanism more-or-less instantly.  (The manacles and fetters attached to the chains had been a helpful clue.)

"Oh.  Yes.  That," Gabby purred, still smiling broadly.  "That is, indeed, one of our 'kinky hobby furnishing,' as you put it earlier.  Do you like it?"  She strolled across the chamber... passing directly under the pool of indirect light from the spire's lantern far overhead... and arrived at the mechanism.  She threw the lever that lifted the locking block—Snap!—lifted the main ratchet—Clack!—and spun the hand-wheel.  The gears turned and chain began playing off the spinning drums, flying through the pulleys overhead and adding to the pools of links on the floor.  Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle...  This also caused the hefty steel manacles to lower all the way to the floor and add their chains to the pools of links.  Clunk-rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle...

Next, Gabby strolled from the mechanism to the right link-piles and dragged the manacle and fetter and their attached chains to center of the chamber...  then strolled to the left piles and did the same.

Still frozen just inside the door, Kenzy continued to stare (with somewhat wide green eyes).

"Now, just so you understand," Gabby lectured from the middle of the room, "there are clearly defined Family Rules that must be followed when playing with this stuff."  She winked at Kenzy (who continued staring and didn't wink back).  "First and foremost: no clothes."

Kenzy watched in amazement (see also stupefaction) as Gabby proceeded to divest herself of her clothing!  That is, she unbuckled and slipped off her sandals and tossed them against the left wall... then reached back and unzipped her sundress, shrugged out of its spaghetti straps, removed and wadded up the dress, then tossed it in the direction of the sandals.  Next, Gabby pulled down her bikini-panties and tossed them to the left wall as well!  She hadn't been wearing a bra, so the angelically beautiful and serenely smiling blonde was now 100% naked!  Nude!  Starkers!  In the buff!  In full compliance with the aforementioned Nordberg Family Rules!!

Kenzy continued watching as Gabby knelt and locked the shackles or fetters (or whatever the damn things were called) around her ankles...  Snap.  Snap,  ...followed by the manacles around her wrists.  Snap.  Snap.  The manacles required the self-capturing naked blonde to wrap her fingers around incorporated hand-grips... then close the hinges and press the locks... but somehow she managed to do it.  Obviously, Gabby was familiar with the devices involved.  So, there she was, naked, with her ankles and wrists in heavy steel restraints but with significant slack in the attached chains!

Still smiling, Gabby nodded over her right shoulder at the mechanism.  "Kenzy, darling... I'll need your help to complete the demonstration."

Kenzy blinked several times.  "Huh?"  She then realized what Gabby was asking her to do.  "Oh.  Yeah.  Uh... okay."  She strolled across the room to the machine (ignoring the classically beautiful naked maiden-in-chains gracefully posing in the center) and placed her hands on the main wheel.  "Uh... I assume you mean I should, uh..."

Gabby smiled but didn't answer.

"Okay," Kenzy said finally, then began turning the wheel.  The gears spun and the ratchet clattered as the chains shortened and were pulled onto their respective drums.  Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter...

The chains continued shortening and eventually (inevitably) Gabby's wrists were pulled upwards and her ankles to either side... her arms were raised and her legs spread ever further apart... until she was standing in a full spreadeagle!

Finally, Kenzy tugged the lever that dropped the block and locked the mechanism (as the designer had so obviously intended), and that was that.  Her freckled cheeks flushed and her heart beating somewhat above its usual resting rate, Kenzy "casually" strolled to Gabby... ducked under and stepped over the chains on the right side... then stood in front of the stretched, nude, smiling blonde.  Kenzy folded her arms under her breasts and a nervous smile curled her lips.  "Uh, tell me again how it was your ancestors who were kinky?"

"They were," Gabby chuckled, then her smile took on a coy twist, "but that doesn't mean their descendants can't also be kinky."

"Quite true," a new voice announced, and Kenzy and Gabby realized Nora was standing just across the threshold of the chamber door, smiling broadly and dressed in sandals and an airy sundress in a pink floral pattern (with white lace trim)!

The blond and redhaired 30-something "youngsters" watched as the Nordberg matriarch strolled into the chamber... stepped around them on the left side, deftly avoiding the stretched chains as Kenzy had done... then continued on to the machine.  She lifted the locking block, gave the main wheel a few turns—Clatter-clatter-clatter!—then dropped the block once again.

As a result, Gabby was now standing up on her toes with her heels off the floor!

Kenzy took a step back and resumed gazing at the naked blonde spreadeagled before her.  Gabby's muscles were stretched under her smooth, tan skin and her breasts were somewhat flattened.  They were definitely there, of course, only not as hemispherical or semi-globular as they'd been before.  Also, the blond captive's smile was defiant and unafraid.  Oh-by-the-way, Kenzy noted that Gabby's dark-blonde/light-brown pubic bush was thick and luxuriant, but also neatly trimmed into a triangle with sharply defined margins.  Kenzy was sure a razor had to have been involved in the process of making it so.  Also, in Kenzy's somewhat dazed opinion, Gabby had never been more beautiful.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Kenzy flinched.  She'd been so busy staring at (admiring) Gabby's helpless, curvaceous, smooth, tan, stretched body that she hadn't noticed when Nora had strolled from the mechanism to her side.

"Yes I am," Gabby chuckled.  "Very beautiful.  Always have been."

Still smiling, Nora, rolled her eyes, spun on her sandal-clad heels, and strolled to the right-hand wardrobe.  She opened its right door, reached inside and lifted something from a hook, then closed the door—Thunk—and was now returning.

Kenzy's green eyes widened even further.  The Nordberg patriarch was holding a ball-gag between her two hands!  Its mouth-plugging sphere was black rubber, the leather strap medium brown, and the buckle and other metal hardware dark bronze.

Gabby's smile had abruptly faded.  "Uh, that's the wrong size," she objected.

Nora said nothing as she continued forward.

"Nora!" Gabby whined (in what Kenzy thought was a very un-Gabby-like manner).  "No!  It's too bi—Grmmmf!"

Kenzy blinked and continued watching as Nora crammed the black sphere between Gabby's teeth, then continued cramming until the ball popped fully into her niece's mouth... then secured the strap's buckle at the nape of Gabby's neck, under her flaxen hair... and took a step back.

"There," Nora purred.  "Perfect."

"Mrrmpfh!" Gabby complained, tugging on her wrist-cuff-bracers, attempting to twist at the waist, and generally making her displeasure crystal clear.

Nora turned and pointed back to the left wardrobe.  "The key to her restraints is in the eye-level drawer with the skeleton-key-shaped pull... and oh-by-the-way, if you open the wardrobe's left-hand door all the way you'll find a collection of whips, canes, crops, floggers, and the like."  She then focused her dazzling smile on Kenzy, who was still blushing and more than a little flustered but was otherwise handling herself quite well (meaning she wasn't screaming and running from the room).

Gabby had ceased her futile and pathetic struggle-like movements and had decided to shift to Defiant Anger.  "Mrrrm!" she growled, her blue eyes glaring at her smiling aunt.

"Gabby and I have discussed the situation," Nora continued, addressing Kenzy, "and we agreed that you and your sister are perfectly welcome to join in the family games whenever you feel so inclined; however..."  She indicated her helpless, naked cousin with a graceful flip of her right hand.  "Gabby will explain the rules, and I expect them to be observed.  And we agree that you are far too much of a professional to let extracurricular activities interfere with your work."  She leaned close and planted a kiss on Kenzy's startled lips.  "As I said, Gabby will explain..."  Her smile widened and she gave Kenzy a saucy wink.  "...when she isn't gagged, of course.  Alright?"

Kenzy blinked several times and swallowed before answering.  "Uh, yeah.  I mean yes.  I mean no!  Uh, that is... no problem, and... we'll see."

"Excellent," Nora purred, then turned and strolled towards Gabby's haphazardly discarded clothing.  "And by-the-way," she said as she picked up the sandals and panties and draped the sundress over her left arm, "we strongly suspect the youngsters are already playing."  She then turned and strolled to the chamber door.  "But then, they're both adults, so as long as my Princess behaves herself and your adorable little sister finishes her work assignments... who are we to tell them they can't indulge in a little innocent fun."

And with that, Nora crossed the threshold, closed the door behind her—Thud—and was gone.

Kenzy and Gabby stared at the closed door... then stared at each other.

Seconds passed.

Finally, Gabby resumed her totally ineffectual and arguably pathetic struggles.

Kenzy watched... and slowly, a smile curled her lips and her blush faded.

"Mrrrmf!" Gabby ordered (or suggested, or begged).

Kenzy spun on her booted heels and gracefully clomped to the left-hand wardrobe.

Up until that very instant Gabby hadn't thought it was even possible to gracefully clomp, but the ginger tomboy/handywoman was carrying it off with aplomb.

Meanwhile, Kenzy had opened both wardrobe doors and was staring at the revealed contents... the coils of hemp rope and dangling leather straps on the right... and the crops, floggers, tawses, whips, canes, paddles, and... whatever the scary thing on the far left might be.  "Wow," she gasped, then opened the drawer with the skeleton-key pull.

Gabby watched Kenzy drop the barrel-key's necklace-chain over her head, free her ginger hair, then tuck the key down her tank-top-décolletage and between her breasts.  Then—"Mrrrf?"—much to Gabby's alarm, Kenzy lifted a multi-tailed flogger off its hook!

Uh oh.  The naked, bound, gagged, spreadeagled, and totally defenseless blonde continued watching as Kenzy turned and gracefully clomped back in her direction.  The twenty or so long leather tails of the flogger rattled together as she approached, their swaying tips swishing only a couple of inches above the hardwood floor.

The captive blonde and very-much-in-charge ginger locked eyes when Kenzy arrived.  A few more seconds passed... then Kenzy lifted the flogger away from her body and brought it down hard against her right boot (somewhat awkwardly).  "Ow!" she complained, dropped the flogger, and rubbed the skin of her left leg.  "That stings!" she complained.

Despite her situation, Gabby struggled not to laugh.  The ball-gag helped.  Obviously, Kenzy had been trying for the classic dominatrix-smacks-the-side-of-her-leg trope, but that was best tried with a riding crop slapping the side of a knee-boot while wearing jodhpurs or leather pants, not a medium-length flogger against a lo-top work-boot, turned-down sock, and strong, shapely, freckled leg... especially when the wielder in question quite obviously had zero experience in the fine art of flagellation.

Meanwhile, Kenzy had finished massaging her leg and was once again standing with her arms folded under her breasts... and with a sheepish grin was on her beautiful, freckled face.

Gabby couldn't help but smile back.  The too-big-ball-gag and too-tight strap vetoed oral participation, but her pale-blue eyes clearly signaled her amusement.

Kenzy sighed, then reached around Gabby's head, parted her semi-tousled blond hair, and unbuckled the ball-gag.  She then watched (and smiled) as Gabby tried to force the black ball from her mouth... and failed.  Kenzy found this very entertaining, but it was also mean, so she reached out, took both ends of the ball-gag's strap in her right hand, and pulled.  The ball surrendered its mouth-plugging status with an audible pop!

Gabby worked her jaws and licked her lips.  "Thank you," she muttered.

"You're welcome," Kenzy purred, then dropped the slightly slimy ball-gag atop the flogger and resumed her crossed-arms-under-her-breasts pose.  "Now... about this 'family games' nonsense... I confess I am a little curious, but I meant it when I said 'we'll see.'  And you better believe I'll be talkin' about all of this with Sam.  It doesn't matter how old she is.  I'm still her big sister."

"Of course," Gabby agreed, "but don't think we do this sort of thing all the time.  In fact, it's a rather infrequently indulged hobby, and it never gets particularly serious.  It's a family tradition more than anything else, and we're not sadists, far from it.  Also... all that family legacy of bondage furnishings and equipment and just let it all sit there?  That would be downright wasteful, don't you agree?"

Kenzy rolled her eyes again, then pulled the barrel-key from between her breasts, reached up, and unlocked Gabby's left wrist-bracer-cuff... then her right... stooped and unlocked her right ankle... then shuffled over and unlocked the left.

While this was happening, Gabby decided three things:
1.  Despite the modest-going-on-full volume of her breasts, Kenzy probably wasn't wearing a bra under her tank-top (and were those pokies stretching the coral-red cotton fabric?)

2.  The upper slopes of the breasts in question hosted a thriving population of freckles. and finally...

3.  Gabby very much wanted to take a complete inventory of all of Kenzy's freckles at her first opportunity.
Having finished releasing Gabby from the insidious clutches of the sinister machine, Kenzy picked up the ball-gag and flogger and returned them to the left wardrobe... then returned the barrel-key and necklace to its drawer.

Rubbing her wrists (for no apparent reason) Gabby had padded forward and joined Kenzy at the left wardrobe.  "Tell you what," she said, pointing at the pile of barrel-keys and the broken drawer still on the floor in front of the right wardrobe, "I think I know where I can find an old leather bag that will hold those things, and I'll get a paper bag from the kitchen and take what's left of the drawer out to the shop.  Sam said she wanted to try fixing it."

"More likely she'll have to rebuild it," Kenzy purred, then smiled sweetly.  "And don't forget to stop by your room for some clothes, seeing as how Nora absconded with what you were wearing when we came in here."

Gabby smiled back (and didn't even blush).  "Thank you for reminding me."

And with that, Kenzy went back to work and Gabby departed to change into a set of running clothes.  After dealing with the ruined drawer and scattered keys, she'd decided to take a four-mile run, to be followed by a nice relaxing sauna.  Also... Gabby had some thinking to do, and she assumed Kenzy did as well.

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 4

The rest of the first week passed without incident—meaning the Preliminary Survey Team (Sam and Danica) continued working their way through the mansion without encountering any more mechanical torture machines and/or overtly kinky mechanisms or furnishings.  But then, they'd only just reached the ground floor and Danica was dropping serious hints that the really cool stuff was waiting "down below."  Sam was sorely tempted to wait 'til everybody went to bed, take her flashlight, and (Nancy Drew style) sneak down the basement stairs and start exploring on her own—but finally decided that would be cheating.  It was best to wait and be "surprised," and to have Danica along to explain whatever it was they stumbled across next.

As for the continuation of Sam's nocturnal instruction in the art of fun-with-rope... Sam waited and waited (with casual but in no way obsessive interest) for Danica to sneak back into her room after everybody had retired... but it didn't happen.  Night after night Sam lay in bed, read her book... and waited.  Eventually she finished her Carringer paperback, then found another book in the Nordberg's Library and started reading it... but there was still no new episode of Danica After Dark.  Still no sign of her self-appointed bondage instructor with the pretty blue eyes and nimble fingers.  Go figure!

Sam wasn't about to mention it, of course.  That would be begging for the naked bondage nonsense to continue, and she didn't really care one way or the other, so there!  It was no skin off her freckled nose if Danica had chickened out.  During the day, as she inspected room after room and Danica took notes, Sam didn't say one word about the blonde's lack of nocturnal visitations.

Anyway, it was now Sam's first Friday in Nordberg Mansion, tomorrow would be her first official day off from the project, and it would be followed by Sunday, her second official day off.  Sam had stripped to her tank-top and panties and was about to climb into bed for her nightly pre-slumber reading, and she'd given up even thinking about whether or not tonight would be the night and Danica would show up and demand that she get naked so she could tie her up (like she'd promised).  Honest.  Really.  Seriously.


Sam spun on her bare feet to find Danica standing just inside the bedroom door.  Obviously, she'd opened the door, slipped across the threshold, then eased the door closed behind her.  Her blond hair was parted down the middle and plaited in a pair of braids secured by narrow pink ribbons, she had a happy smile on her angelic face, and was dressed in a gauze-thin, very skimpy nightie, similar to the one she'd worn the night of her first nocturnal visit, only this time in cotton-candy-pink.  Also, pink fuzzy slippers were on her feet (suggesting the blonde had an entire rainbow collection of silly slippers back in her closet).  Finally, the handles of the notorious multi-colored nylon gym-bag from her first visit were clutched in her right hand.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded (as if she didn't know).

Danica cocked her head to one side and her smile became rather coy.  "Don't be silly, silly," she giggled as she sauntered forward and dropped the bag on the foot of the bed.  "You know."

Her arms folded under her breasts and a petulant scowl on her freckled face, Sam stared at the intruder.  "You think you can just waltz in here and—"

"Of course I can," Danica interrupted, unzipped the bag, reached in, pulled out a neatly wrapped coil of thin-rope, and dropped it on the bedspread.  It looked to be the same ¼" braided nylon rope/cord as before, when she'd talked Sam into tying her up, only this time it was Coyote-brown (or military-brown, or whatever the marketers were calling it at the moment).  "Who's gonna stop me?"
Coyote Brown Rope
"Remind me to suggest adding privacy locks for all the bedroom doors to the project list," Sam muttered, then watched as Danica released the hitch and wrappings containing the rope coil, let it fall open, doubled it, and found its center.

Rope ready in her hands, Danica smiled at Sam.  "Well?"

"Well what?" Sam countered (although she already knew the answer).

"Do you want to learn or not?" Danica purred.  Her smile was infuriating (and in Sam's opinion, the smug blonde was cute as the proverbial pink bug).

Still frowning, Sam heaved a disgusted sigh, pulled her tank-top over her head, balled it up, and threw it onto the seat of the straight-chair next to the closet door... then pulled down and stepped out of her panties, balled them up, and threw them atop the tank-top.  She then folded her arms under her boobs, as she had before, only now Sam was naked!  Totally naked!

Danica glanced at the panties and tank-top on the chair, then complimented her naked student.  "Nice arm."

"Softball," Sam explained.

Danica's longstanding question about whether or not Sam had an allover tan (meaning nonstop freckles) was finally answered.  She did not.  Also, the pattern of peach-pink and freckled skin suggested Sam's swimsuit of choice was a string bikini, and a rather skimpy string bikini at that.  The ginger tomboy's breasts and her pubic area each sported a pink triangle.  And oh-by-the-way, Sam's luxurious patch of pubic curls was the same ginger shade as her long hair.

"Turn around for me, please," Danica requested (ordered).

"Why?" Sam growled.

"So I can get to work, of course," Danica responded.  And so I can stare at your white butt, she silently added.

Sam stared several dozen imaginary daggers at her smiling visitor/instructor... then shuffled 180° and stared at the wall.  She stopped staring daggers, of course.  The wall was innocent.

The butt now fully revealed was as peach-pink was Sam's sun-starved breasts.  Danica liked it... but she had a job to do.  "Let's get you all tied up and helpless, then I'll explain several salient points."

"Whatever," Sam huffed, and stood stoically still as Danica stepped forward and set to work.

When the nonexistent dust settled, Sam was lying on the bed and bound from head to foot; or, more precisely, from her rope-yoked shoulders to her big toes.  That's right, her big toes!


Two doubled horizontal strands (for a total of four neatly stacked single strands) pinned Sam's upper arms against her torso, passing above her pale boobs.  Two more horizontal doubled strands passed below.  Also, on her right side a doubled diagonal strand passed between her arms and torso from back to front, up and over her head, then down and between her arm and torso on the left, thus forming the aforementioned shoulder-yoke.  Also, the yoke was hitched between Sam's upper arms and torso, cinching the lower horizontal strands.

Next, Danica folded Sam's arms behind her back, crossed her wrists, raised them a few degrees above the horizontal, and lashed them together and to the nexus of ropes below her shoulder blades.  Danica explained that this particular configuration was called a "box-tie" and was one of her favorite binds as (she claimed) it had the virtue of being inescapable (when properly applied), yet could be worn for "many many hours" without serious discomfort... an assertion Sam didn't at all find ominous and/or disconcerting.

More rope had been used to bind Sam's legs together, above and below her knees.  Both bindings were cinched between Sam's legs, of course.

As for the ankle-bindings, they were (in Sam's anything but expert opinion) as elaborate as the box-tie in that they not only lashed her ankles together but also her feet and big toes, and in a similar manner to her other bonds, they were cinched between said ankles, feet, and big toes.  Also, the doubled strands were just as uniformly tight as the rest of the ropes.

And on the topic of tightness, Danica had repeatedly slid one of her index fingers under the ropes as she worked, passing between the strands' braided sheathes and Sam's skin, straightening the stacks and gauging the tightness of the bindings as they slithered into place... at least that was why Sam assumed she was doing it... meaning the finger sliding... against her skin.  Maybe it was also a strange technique for copping a feel, but the end result was uniform tension in all of her bonds.  They all dimpled her skin (just a little), but none were causing any numbness or tingling (for now).

"There," Danica said with the self-satisfied grin of a skilled artisan surveying a job well done.  She was standing beside the bed and gazing down at her naked and bound student with her hands on her barely covered hips in a confident (and devilishly cute) pose.  "You may commence your Courtesy Struggle."

Sam frowned, rolled onto her side, and gazed up at the gloating blonde.  "My what?"

"Courtesy Struggle," Danica repeated.  "It's traditional for a damsel in bondage to visibly test her bonds to provide feedback to the villainess.  We call it a 'Courtesy Struggle,' capitalized as it's both a proper noun and the proper thing to do."

Sam's frown became rather sullen.  "And if I refuse?"

Danica's smile widened (or maybe turned wicked, sinister, and/or evil).  "Such discourtesy would give me a valid excuse to put you across my lap and give you a good spanking," she purred.  "I bet your buns would turn a really pretty shade of peach-vermilion... or maybe blushing-orange."

Sam said nothing, but did resume sending disappointingly ineffectual imaginary daggers in her potential spanker's direction.  She also started enthusiastically squirming, kicking, rolling, wiggling, writhing, and generally exercising her severely restrained and naked body, which had the side effect of testing her newly applied bondage.  See also tossing, thrashing, wriggling, and finger-fluttering.

"That's a good girl," Danica giggled, then sat cross-legged on the bed and settled in to watch.

Sam continued trying to free herself.  She was also thinking.  What did she mean by I should commence my initial Courtesy Struggle?  Isn't she done yet?

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 4


Chapter 3
PoC-icon Chapter 5