by Van © 2023
		Chapter 5

Sam continued her first ever Courtesy Struggle.  Lying on her now semi-rumpled bed, the naked and bound redhead fought her newly-applied ¼" nylon rope restraints (in Coyote-brown) with the same diligence she'd apply to a professional handywoman task assigned by her big sister.  She kicked her legs, pointed her feet, and tried to bend her knees, but this had no effect on the web of ropes binding her ankles, feet, and big-toes or the cinched strands binding her legs together above and below her knees.  Likewise, twisting and bending at the waist, rolling her shoulders, and generally squirming and writhing did nothing to loosen or shift the "box-tie" (as Danica called it) that pinned her upper arms against the torso, bound her crossed wrists behind her back and firmly against her spine, and yoked her shoulders.  Enthusiastic?  Oh yes.  Effective?  No.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her struggling naked student, resplendent in her pink baby-doll nightie, and smiling sweetly, Danica watched the show... then reached out and placed her right hand on Sam's right hip.  "Whoa there, buckaroo," she chuckled.  "You'll break the bed-frame."

Sam ceased struggling and glared at her instructor/captor.  Doing anything even mildly destructive to this particular queen-size, Gothic-style, four-poster bed merely by struggling on top of the mattress was clearly impossible, in this or any other conceivable naked bondage scenario.  "You told me to struggle," the disgruntled ginger huffed.

"Indeed, I did," Danica agreed, "but enough is enough."  She lifted her hand and settled it back down on Sam's right shoulder.  "Now, take notice of the pattern of your bonds.  All of the interconnected elements have uniform tension and all were repeatedly hitched and knotted as they were applied to maintain that tension.  Thus, while everything is reasonably tight, the overall embrace of the ropes is balanced, and no amount of squirming or attempted manipulation on your part will allow you to slide any given element and transfer slack from one part to another.  Also—"

"You didn't say there'd be a lecture," Sam interrupted in a surly manner.

"Actually, I did," Danica corrected her student.  "I mentioned explaining salient points, remember?  Now, pay attention."

"No!" Sam huffed (a ghost of a smile curling her lips).  "I'm busy.  If you'd stop yammering and let me concentrate I think I can get out of this."  She then resumed her enthusiastic kicking, bucking, and squirming.

Danica couldn't help but be amused.  As a student Sam might be disobedient, even insubordinate, but she was also incredibly cute, especially when naked and thoroughly tied up.  Danica was prepared to be patient, and in any case she knew a tried and true solution for Sam's smart-alecky mouth problem.

Sam paused in her defiant struggles and watched Danica lean towards the foot of the bed, retrieve her multi-colored bag of bondage goodies, bring it close, then unzip a side pocket and pull out some sort of pastel-green... thing.  It was bigger than a golf ball but smaller than a baseball and had probably been molded from silicon-rubber.  "What the hell is that?" she demanded with a petulant scowl (although she already had a pretty good idea).

"What, this little thingie here?" Danica asked innocently.  "It's from a company called Silencicone, and is a mouth-plug, bite-guard, and tongue-suppressor, all in one."  She began pointing at the annoyingly pastel-candy-lime object's various parts.  "You bite down here, this panel or flap goes between your teeth and the inside of your cheeks and gums, and the cavity in the back contains and controls your tongue.  The slot in the front is for a strap, but I decided we don't need one tonight."

Next, smiling broadly, Danica rolled Sam onto her back, lifted her right leg and straddled Sam's upper body, then settled her weight atop the glowering captive's chest.  Her thighs (and pink-panties-clad pussy) were just below Sam's rope-framed boobs and her bent knees to either side of Sam's freckled and rope-yoked shoulders.

"Hey, get off me!" San complained, wiggling, squirming, and attempting to buck Danica off her body.  "Mrrrf!"  Danica's left hand was now clamped over Sam's mouth!

"Let me show you how it works," the wickedly smiling blonde purred, then quickly pulled away her hand-gag and immediately crammed the green plug/ball-gag into Sam's protesting mouth.

"No—MRRRPFH!"

"Hush," Danica scolded as she rocked the green blob back and forth and made sure it was properly seated with respect to Sam's oral anatomy.  "There," she said as she sat back.  (The smiling blonde's thighs were still semi-squashing Sam's ribs and nudging the lower halves of her boobs.  "Try forcing it out for me."

Sam was already trying, but was having difficulty opening her jaws wide enough to do any good.  "Mrrrfh!" she complained, staring daggers at her smiling instructor.  She thought she'd eventually succeed in working the green blob past her teeth and out of her mouth, probably, but the damn thing was simply too big for a straightforward expulsion.

"Hmm... excellent," Danica purred.  "Okay, you can stop trying now."

Sam did stop trying (for now) and glared as she watched Danica reach back into the gaily colored bag and pull out a compact pair of shining steel bandage scissors and a roll of some sort of medical tape.  It was off-white and something like 3" wide and—Sam's eyes popped wide—she knew exactly what Danica intended to use it for!  "Nrrrrm!"

Danica teased back a corner and pulled a six or seven inch strip of the somewhat thick and stretchy tape from the roll... then used the scissors to snip it free.  "Okay," she said, stretching the strip between her two hands, "bite down and close your lips as much as you can."

Sam shook her head—"Muh-umm!"—and resumed trying to evict the green blob.

Danica heaved a disappointed sigh.  "You really do want that spanking I warned you about earlier," she purred.

Actually, Sam did not want the spanking Danica had warned her about earlier, so—continuing to glower at her angelic teacher—she stopped trying to expel the plug, bit down on the bite-guard, wiggled her tongue to make sure it was properly trapped in its dedicated cavity, and just managed to make her lips touch across the outer surface of green plug, completely hiding the green invader from Danica's smiling gaze.

"Excellent!" Danica beamed and took advantage of Sam's surly acquiescence to press the strip of tape home and smooth it with her fingers.  She then leaned back and admired her handiwork.

Sam was now thoroughly tape-gagged, with ugly-green, silicon-rubber, anatomically molded stuffing—"Mrrrmpfhrmmm!"—and it was Sam's first time actually being gagged!  She was not happy.  She then resumed her futile struggles (albeit with reduced enthusiasm) and scowled up at her gloating instructor... the blonde still sitting on her body, with her smooth, firm, pale skin, pink nightie, ridiculous bobbing braids (with their cute little pink ribbons), angelic smile, and sparkling blue eyes.

Biting her lower lip in a coy, charming, and undeniably cute manner, Danica leaned close and gently combed her fingers through Sam's tousled ginger hair, straightening and arranging it on either side of the naked and bound tomboy's angry, freckled, tape-gagged face.  "Such a pretty shade of green," Danica sighed, "by which I mean your eyes.  Anyway..."  She finally climbed off Sam's body and lay down full-length next to her helpless student/prisoner.

"Mrrrf!" Sam complained and tried to squirm away.

"Settle down," Danica purred, then rolled onto her side, squirmed even closer, lifted a leg and draped it over Sam's bound legs, then gently cupped Sam's right breast with her right hand.  "Now, pay attention.  The lecture isn't over."

Sam stopped squirming, stared up at the ceiling, and did her best to ignore the hand gently grasping her boob.  It was difficult... especially when her instructor's fingers closed in a weak but perceptible squeeze... then relaxed... then squeezed again.  Sam could feel her nipple hardening and begin pressing against Danica's palm in protest.  Yeah, she decided, it's a protest.

"Now, as I was about to say before I was so rudely and repeatedly interrupted," Danica lectured, "an even more important factor in this sort of game is knot placement.  The key knots must be positioned well beyond the reach of the bindee's fingers, so they can't possibly be untied."  She released Sam's boob and slowly slid her hand down her body until her palm rested on Sam's flat tummy.

Still staring (glowering) up at the ceiling, Sam went rigid in her inescapable bonds (and Danica's warm, gentle, snuggling embrace).

"And just as important in preventing escape," Danica continued, "is the use of repeated hitches, cinches, and tension-maintaining knots to make the bondage one unified web, as I explained earlier.  You might be able to tug on whatever you can reach, but it won't do you any good.  Understand?"

Sam ignored her teacher's question (as well as her smooth right hand... which was beginning to move... sliding back and forth across her stomach in a feather-light, gliding massage).

"Now..." Danica continued, "notice how the box-tie is anchored above by the ropes across your shoulders.  There's an even more secure version of the box-tie in which rope anchors the web down below."  She lifted her hand and gently poked her index finger inside Sam's bellybutton.  "First, you encircle the waist..."  She then slowly slid her finger down Sam's lower tummy, through her ginger pubic patch, and nudged Sam's labia, just above her clitoris!

Sam flinched in her bonds (and Danica's gentle embrace) as an involuntary shiver shook through her body, but she didn't take her green eyes off the ceiling, nor did she try forcing a muffled objection through the green glob in her mouth and the tape sealing her lips.

"The ropes would then continue to the back, cleaving your butt-cheeks, up to the waist-ropes, then up to the main box-tie, completing the lower anchor."  Danica returned her hand Sam's tummy.  "The opposite configuration is just as effective, meaning from the back and cleaving the butt-cheeks first, then the pussy, then up to the main box-tie in front.  It's functionally similar to the crotch strap of a straitjacket, meaning it prevents pulling all of the ropes up and over your head, as impossible as that would be."  She leaned close and whispered in Sam's ear.  "There's a straitjacket lesson later in the curriculum."  She then leaned to the side and turned off the bedside reading light—Click—which plunged the bedroom into darkness, not counting the dimly glowing nightlight.  Danica then snuggled close to her naked, bound, and gagged student, once again.

Sam realized her heart was hammering in her rope-restricted chest.  Also, a tingling sensation was making itself known somewhere below her bellybutton and between her legs.  She was still staring upwards, but until her eyes adapted to the dark she' be unable to see the ceiling.  Not that that mattered.  It was featureless.  And as for Danica's nearly-naked proximity and gentle embrace... that was something to be studiously ignored, right?  Sam supposed she could try squirming away, but already knew that would be a futile gesture.  (It would also be rude.)

"Goodnight," Danica whispered in Sam's ear.

"Mrrrr" ("G'night") Sam growled (meaning hummed) in return... then closed her eyes and willed herself to relax.  She is gonna untie me at some point, Sam wondered, isn't she?

On the morning of Sam's first bondage lesson—the one in which she'd been the one doing the binding—she'd slept soundly and woken up early in something of a sleepy daze.

The morning of her second lesson, although she hadn't slept quite so soundly, Sam again woke up early, only this time she was instantly alert.  She was also still naked... her ankles, feet, and big-toes were still bound... her legs still bound above and below her knees... her upper body bound in her first ever box-tie—and the pastel-green blob was still stuffed in her mouth and her lips sealed by a broad, tightly adhered strip of medical tape.  Also, Danica was snuggled against her helpless body even closer than she'd been on the first night.  It was like the blonde was using her like one of those stupid full-length body pillows—and while Sam's ropes and Danica's pink nightie meant they weren't technically naked, but they might as well have been.

And Danica hadn't untied her!  What an absolute bitch!  Granted, she'd never actually promised she'd untie her when the lesson was over, but that was a given, right?  Anyway, Sam had been counting on it.  Who wants to sleep naked, tied up, and gagged with a beautiful blonde running her hands over your body and pressing her anatomy against your anatomy wherever, whenever, and however she pleases?  Certainly not Sam Munro!  Nosiree!

Sam resolved then and there that although it was certainly true that there would be future lessons in which Danica would tie her up and teach her new, uh, stuff—somehow Sam would manage to talk Danica into letting her tie her up, in order to demonstrate what she'd learned.  Yeah, that's the ticket!  Then it would be Sam running her hands over Danica's naked skin, poking her in intimate locations, and feeling her up without formal permission!

Let's see how she likes involuntary make-out sessions! Sam silently resolved, then closed her green eyes and once again drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next thing Sam knew, Danica was smiling and untying her box-tie bonds.  This took less time than Sam would have thought, and soon her upper body was rope free... although her legs, ankles, feet, and big-toes remained bound and her tape-gag (with green-glob-stuffing) remained 100% intact.

"Untie the rest," Danica suggested (ordered), "but leave the gag until you get to the bathroom and freshen up.  You need to see the way the Microfoam tape reveals the shape of your lips in bas relief.  Three dimensions!  It's very cute."  She leaned close and planted a kiss on the tip of Sam's freckled nose.  "Cute like you."

"Mrrrm," Sam complained as she batted and pushed Danica away.

Danica giggled, climbed off the bed, slid her pale bare feet into her fuzzy pink slippers, then scampered towards the bedroom door.  "Be sure and properly coil the rope, rinse off the Silencicone, and put everything away," she called back over her shoulder, "and stash the bag in the back of your closet so I don't have to haul it around all the time.  See you at breakfast!"

Thud.

That was the bedroom door closing, of course.  Danica was gone and Sam was alone.

Sam heaved a gagged sigh... then set about untying the rest of her bonds... but she resolved to follow her instructor's suggestion and leave the gag until she was in the bathroom down the hall.  She was curious to see if her Microfoam tape-gagged lips were "very cute" as Danica had claimed.

The second work-week at Nordberg Mansion was... eventful.

Kimiko Sano

Kimiko Sano, the Nordberg's live-in business manager, returned from her trip to New York as expected.

The Munro sisters were introduced, and once Kenzy and Sam found a private moment to compare notes they wholeheartedly agreed that "Kimiko-sama" (as Danica called her) was a stunning woman.  Apparently, the "sama" suffix was a title of respect.  Anyway, younger than Nora but older than Gabby, Kimiko was a svelte, graceful, aristocratic beauty.  Her features were even, symmetrical, and attractive, and her hair was sleek, straight, gleaming-black, and long.  She was intelligent, well-educated, and while quite friendly, was also quiet and reserved.  They agreed it was probably a "Japanese thing."  Also, the Nordbergs treated Kimiko like family, with an air of quiet respect (and more than a hint of adoration).  All things considered, Kenzy and Sam were... intrigued.

Kimiko instantly dovetailed into the mansion's daily routine with quiet precision.  During the day she usually wore conservative but stylish business-appropriate clothes, usually in dark shades, but after sundown she changed into what Kenzy and Sam assumed were simple kimonos, although neither of them were familiar with the ins and outs of traditional Japanese fashion.  Anyway, the robe-like garments were very pretty and usually in much brighter hues than her daytime outfits.  That said, however, the colors were never garish.  Kenzy and Sam quickly became accustomed to Kimiko's quiet presence gliding around the mansion.

However, Kimiko's return did trigger a minor disruption in the Nordberg mansion's daily schedule.  That is...

Kenzy and Sam had already integrated regular exercise into their work schedules.  Kenzy went running with Gabby at least three days a week and Sam did the same with Danica, and in addition, both sisters indulged in lap swimming in the mansion's combination indoor pool and greenhouse.

Now, however, every day began with "mandatory" yoga or Tai-Chi!  The sessions weren't really mandatory, of course, but the Nordbergs strongly urged the Munros to join them for the pre-breakfast stretching and posing.  Nora explained in an aside to the ginger sisters that they hadn't indulged in either activity before Kimiko's return because they didn't feel qualified to teach them the fundamentals.  Kenzy and Sam had exchanged smiles and reassured Nora that they understood completely and didn't really think it was because the Nordbergs were lazy and had been goofing off.  Nora thanked them politely.  (She knew they'd been yanking her chain... so to speak.)

Anyway, Kimiko was always the leader of the early morning sessions, and they happened out on the lawn between the start of the running/hiking paths and a small wildlife pond.  Uniform-of-the-day was skintight exercise pants or shorts (usually in spandex), t-shirts or tank-tops or sports bras, and bare feet.  In the event of rain, the sessions would move to the indoor exercise space adjacent to the mansion's home gym and dry sauna, but so far that hadn't happened.

So... yoga and Tai-Chi.  At first, Kenzy and Sam were curious but skeptical.  They were complete newbies, of course, but Kimiko-sama was a patient teacher and the Nordbergs helped bring them up to speed.  Soon, in only a few days in fact, the ginger sisters were gracefully flowing from pose to pose like old hands... (or more correctly like promising novices).

Also, just when the Preliminary Survey Team (Sam and Danica) reached the kitchen and were poised to descend the basement steps and start inventorying the basement rooms—Kenzy decreed that their task was over.

"Kenzy!" Sam complained.  Danica was equally disappointed.  Neither one of the "youngsters" wanted to leave the job unfinished (and their desire to explore and possibly play with the mysterious "kinky stuff" down below had nothing to do with it).

Kenzy explained that her examination of the power panels in the main basement had already revealed that aside from the modern cabling serving the mansion's utilities, the rest of the subterranean wiring was ancient and would be replaced along with the attic and the other obsolete runs Sam and Danica had already documented.  Therefore, there was no need for them to rummage through dusty old storerooms that hadn't been visited in years.  Sam should get ready for a trip to the local hardware mega-store to help her big sister purchase what they needed to get things going, and Danica could go back to her painting (and being the mansion's resident Princess).

Sam wasn't fooled.  Her big sister was sabotaging her fun!  She pouted something fierce, then brightened when Danica suggested (begged) that she needed Sam's help with her painting.  Specifically, she wanted Sam to pose for her—and because of her participation in the preliminary survey she was way behind in her quota for the next gallery delivery—and Sam would be perfect for a figure study—and Kenzy could take Gabby with her to Lowe's if she really needed help shopping—and she and Sam had worked so hard on the survey—and please-please-please?

Thankfully, Nora and Kimiko were absent and had been spared Danica's Spoiled Princess comedy routine; however, Gabby was present, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and watched her cousin's antics with a wry smile.  Sam was also amused (but doing her best to hide it).  Kenzy had automatically shifted into ignore-the-whining-kid-sister mode, something usually reserved as an anti-Sam countermeasure (but secretly she was also amused).

"Well..." Kenzy said finally.

"Oh, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!" Danica gushed, kissed Kenzy's right cheek, then grabbed Sam's hand and dragged her soon-to-be-model from the kitchen before Kenzy could rescind her "permission."

Kenzy and Gabby watched the kitchen door swing closed, then exchanged smiles.

"You don't really need help buying supplies, do you?" Gabby purred.

"No," Kenzy responded, "but I'm glad you're here."  She nodded towards the door to the basement.  "You're going to show me whatever kinky machinery or devices you have squirreled away down there."

Gabby smiled and sipped her coffee.  "That's the real reason you halted the youngster's survey," she purred.

Kenzy nodded.  "I need to get ahead of all this nonsense, and you're going to help me do it."

Gabby's blue eyes flashed.  "You're so cute when you get all take charge like that."

"Stop it!" Kenzy ordered (and blushed).  "Finish your coffee while I get my work-belt."

"Okay," Gabby said as she sipped the last of her coffee.  "But don't bother with your belt.  By all means bring your flashlight, but you won't be needing any tools."

Kenzy was too old to be channeling Nancy Drew, and she wasn't really dressed for the part.  Steel-toed work-boots, heavy socks, cargo-shorts, and a tank-top?  Not counting the boots, Nancy might go snooping in shorts and a t-shirt or tank-top in one of the more modern YA novels, but classic Carolyn Keene girl detective Nancy Drew?  Never.  She'd be wearing saddle-shoes, bobby-socks, some variant on the poodle-skirt, a white cotton blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a fuzzy sweater.  Kenzy did have a small but powerful flashlight tucked in the right front cargo-pocket of her shorts and arguably that was something a Girl Detective would carry, but flashlight alone does not a Nancy Drew make.  Everybody knows that.

Anyway, Kenzy smiled as she descended the basement stairs with Gabby on her heels.  If anyone in the expedition was dressed in a Nancy Drew acceptable manner, it was Gabby.  The smiling blonde was decked out in yet another of her seemingly endless collection of sundresses, this one with large, hibiscus-like salmon-pink and green leaved tropical flowers on a blue background.  The Mystery of the Sinister Beach Resort, Kenzy mused.  It wouldn't be one of the Classics, but a post-Keene title from the 70's or 80's.  Gabby's hair was off, of course.  Nancy was a redhead (if Kenzy remembered correctly), but in the decades-long and ongoing run of the novels, a flaxen-haired Nancy was far from unprecedented.

Anyway, they crossed what to Kenzy was the now familiar territory of the main basement—a large, even cavernous expanse housing the mansion's power panels, the main plumbing functions, and the rest of the utilities—passed the separate laundry room off to one side—then wended their way through rows of simple wooden shelves cluttered with cardboard boxes, plastic tubs, and old luggage—and finally approached a very solid-looking wooden door.

The basement was unfinished, with poured concrete walls, exposed joists overhead, and hefty vertical wood posts supporting load-carrying beams.  Away from the area immediately under the kitchen, the only light came from dimly burning bulbs in widely separated metal shades.  Everything was quite mundane, which made the massive, richly carved, and aforementioned door stand out even more.  Was it a Gothic transplant from upstairs?  Anyway, it was secured by a heavy-duty latch with a barrel-style lock and, in Kenzy's opinion, was very dramatic.

From studying the mansion's original floor plans Kenzy knew that while the "Main Basement" was arguably large, it was only a fraction of the veritable maze of twisting, turning corridors and irregularly shaped (and unlabeled) spaces supposedly under the full footprint of the mansion—and the Gothic door before them was the sole indicated point of entry or egress.

"Allow me," Gabby purred, stepped forward and lifted a golden barrel-key on a gold chain from around her neck and between her breasts, leaned close, and turned the lock.  Click!  She then lifted the latch—Thunk—and swung open the door.

Kenzy noted that the door was, indeed, quite thick and heavy, but by the minimal effort required on Gabby's part it was well-balanced with oiled hinges.  Also, the inside surface of the portal didn't match the exterior.  It was plain, unfinished wood showing decades of age, and was regularly studded with large iron bolt-heads.  Anyway...

Gabby threw a switch and a series of overhead fixtures lit a long passage that stretched into the distance.  The walls were poured concrete and the rather low ceiling was clad with unstained ancient boards similar to the inside of the door.  Also, while the overhead fixtures in the Main Basement had been "normal" and anything but fancy, those corridor lights were all recessed into the ceiling and covered with heavy iron grills... as if the Nordberg ancestors had been worried about burglars breaking into the basement and making off with all the light bulbs.  Also, the grills cast appropriately grid-like shadows on the pools of light on the concrete directly under each fixture, which was arguably spooky.  More drama, Kenzy decided.

They stepped across the threshold, Gabby closed the door behind them—Thud-thunk—then, for some unexplained reason, turned the lock.  Click!  "Follow me," she suggested (ordered) as she tucked the key back down her décolletage.

Kenzy blinked a couple of times as they stepped off.  The floor was smooth, poured concrete, like the walls, and could use a good sweeping.  There was dust and cobwebs in the corners, including the recessed lighting cans and their grid covers overhead  The whole place could use a good cleaning, although it wasn't all that dirty for a spooky maze that didn't seem to get much use.  (She noted there were dusty scuff-marks underfoot, but none appeared to be particularly fresh.)

The stroll continued... and eventually they approach a T-shaped junction with the main corridor continuing ahead and a slightly narrower corridor on their right.  Gabby made the turn, Kenzy followed, and eventually they approached a door on the left.  It was old wood, sturdy looking, studded with iron bolt-heads, and strikingly similar to the back of the fancy door that was supposedly the only entrance to the maze.  Kenzy idly wondered if its inside surface would be elaborately carved or plain.  She decided to put her money on plain.

Gabby retrieved her key, unlocked and opened the door—Click-thunk-creeeee—(this time the hinges needed oiling) and they entered the space beyond.

Kenzy stared in amazement (see also trepidation and possibly fright).  Oh-by-the-way, she'd won her bet with herself.  The back of the door was essentially identical to the front; however...

The far half of the rather large room they now found themselves in was taken up by some sort of massive machine made up of gear trains, levers and/or rocker arms, a heavy pendulum frozen in mid-swing, various hefty weights dangling from chains, ratchets, escapements, transfer assemblies, regulatory doodads, impressively large diddly-bobs, interactive gizmos, etc., etc.  (Emphasis on etc.)  It was all supported by a framework of cast iron stanchions and crossbeams bolted into the walls, ceiling, and floor.

Kenzy decided it might be said to be similar to the damsel-stretching mechanism upstairs in the attic tower, only on steroids!  It was like the works of a gigantic clock, as viewed with the case removed.  In any case, it was far too complicated for Kenzy to intuit its purpose and function, unlike the damsel-stretching mechanism upstairs in the, uh, Flagellation Parlor.  But speaking of stretching...

Directly in front of the super-mechanism and linked to the machine by a pair of horizontal rotating drums—one at each end—was a narrow, also horizontal, waist-height platform or table made of hefty timbers—and now Kenzy had an excellent idea of exactly what she was staring at.

Clearly, the thing was a rack!  A complicated, possibly accessorized, and almost certainly automated rack?  Yes, but a rack... of the torture variety!

Four chains were wrapped around the horizontal drums, two to each drum, and attached to each chain was what was clearly some sort of hefty steel manacle, shackle, or cuff, all resting on the wooden surface.  All four restraints were padded on the inside with what was probably leather, and the pair on Kenzy's right were similar to the wrist-cuffs of the stretching machine upstairs.  They incorporated hand-grips and bracer-like outer-cuffs.  The pair on her left, however, were clearly designed to clamp around a pair of ankles with the wearer pointing her feet!

"Well, here it is," Gabby said, "the first stop on the Nordberg Dungeons Tour."  She was indicating the entirely too complicated and over the top thing with a saucy smile and a graceful flip of her right wrist.  "Most of that—"  She pointed at the main mechanism with her index finger.  "—stopped working decades ago.  Truth be told, we aren't even sure what all of it's supposed to do.  There should be a record of its construction and maintenance in the family archives, but that particular folio is missing.  It may be misfiled in the Main Library, but none of us have ever stumbled across it."

Kenzy stared at the allegedly broken machine in question and nodded.  She also blinked her green eyes a few times and her freckled cheeks may have been blushing.  She noted that the elements of the device were ornate, meaning engraved or decoratively cast and in keeping with the overall Gothic style of the mansion, especially the support-stanchions and the rest of the framework.  The mechanism was designed to be functional and admired.

"Anyway," Gabby continued, "at some point somebody decoupled the rack from most of the fancy machinery... so now it's just a rack.  Capisce?"

Kenzy nodded again... then frowned, turned to face Gabby, and pointed at the rack.  "Wait.  You expect me to watch you climb onto that thing so I can lock you down?"

"No, silly, Gabby laughed.  "I demonstrated the machinery up in the attic, remember?  Now it's your turn.  I expect you to climb onto that thing so I can lock you down."

Kenzy nodded yet again... then her frown returned.  "Uh, I never agreed to—"

"Sure ya did," Gabby interrupted, her lips curled in a wicked smile and her pale blue eyes sparkling.  "Why else do ya suppose we're taking the tour?"

This time Kenzy shook her head.  "No, I..."  She'd returned to staring at the narrow table, or platform, or bed of dark timbers, and the waiting chains and restraints... and she continued staring.

"You aren't... chicken... are you, Kenzy?" Gabby purred,

Kenzy didn't answer, at least not immediately.  Then, she crossed her arms over her belly, grabbed the bottom of her tank-top in her two hands, and pulled the garment over her head.

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Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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