by Van © 2023

Chapter 6

Dramatis Personæ


Meanwhile, upstairs in Danica's Studio...

Her hand still tightly clutched in Danica's businesslike grip, Sam followed the creatively inspired blonde upstairs and into what Danica called her Artistic Inner Sanctum (and everyone else called Danica's Studio).  The artist scampered.  Sam simply walked quickly.  Tomboys do not scamper.  Also, scampering in work-boots is extremely difficult.  Anyway, Sam was already familiar with the Sanctum/Studio.  During the now tragically truncated Initial Survey she'd clamored all over the space while Danica took notes.  Everything appeared to be unchanged.

Located on a corner of the third floor of one of the mansion's many wings, the Studio's east and south-facing walls were mostly windows, and they admitted a flood of natural light that could be attenuated over a wide range by deploying multiple sets of hanging drapes ranging from whisper thin to translucent white to opaque black.  Overhead was the exposed interior framing of a modest spire, which made for a complex and interesting ceiling.  Support timbers and cross-braces seemed to travel in all directions.  The overall decor was Gothic, as was to be expected, but the space was brighter and less adorned than most of the finished rooms in the mansion.  There was a reasonable amount of ornamental carving, but most of it was limited to the vertical pilasters and a few of the horizontal beams overhead.  The walls themselves were plastered (as opposed to clad in darkly stained wood paneling) and painted a cheerful shade of... antique pearl?  Pale ivory?  Sam wasn't sure, but whatever the paint chip was labeled, the tint had less yellow than "beige."  Anyway, it was one of the few rooms in the mansion not dark and brooding in the full-on Gothic manner.

As for furnishings, there was a wardrobe, a massive combination cabinet and chest of drawers, a tall bookshelf, and a rack of stretched canvases, all set back against the non-window walls.  There was also comfortably padded seating of various types and all in the Gothic style, including a straight-chair, a wing-chair, an ottoman, a loveseat, a full-size sofa, and a daybed.  However, they weren't artfully arranged in conversation groupings but had been pushed back to maximize the working space in the center of the room directly under the peak of the spire.  At the moment that space was occupied by the daybed, and a few feet away were the expected painter's easel with a blank canvas, a comfortably padded bar (artist's) stool, and a side-table cluttered with jars of upright brushes, bottles of various fluids (for brush-cleaning?) tubes of oil paint, and other artist's supplies.  The floor underfoot was finished hardwood, like the rest of the upstairs mansion, and with the usual expensively woven carpets and rugs; however, directly under the easel, stool, and side-table there was a spread sheet of paint-stained canvas, an obvious concession to creative sloppiness.

"Okay," Danica said as she finally released Sam's hand and pointed to the wing-chair.  "Put yer stuff there," she suggested (ordered), then continued across the room to a clothes tree next to an ornately carved filing cabinet, a comfy-looking office chair, and a Gothic desk with a high end computer workstation with a keyboard, graphics tablet, and one of those oversize, triple-wide, hi-res monitors.  It was an oasis of 21st Century modernity in an otherwise 19th Century artist's studio.  "I'll get everything ready," Danica announced.

Sam watched with amusement (and carefully casual appreciation) as Danica removed her sundress and hung it on the clothes tree, kicked off her sandals, then shrugged into a paint-stained, pastel-blue-green, cotton, knee-length, long sleeve garment that buttoned in front.  (Duster?  Lab-coat?  Artist's smock?  Whatever.)  Anyway, Danica was thereby re-clothed and no longer her former panties-and-bra-clad-but-otherwise-naked self.  Sam continued watching as the grinning blonde secured a pair of buttons... one over her stomach and the other below her breasts, but left the rest unbuttoned.

Danica then turned and stared at Sam.  "Well?  Get on with it."

"Get on with what now?" Sam purred, her arms folded under her breasts.

Danica rolled her eyes.  "Get on with getting naked, silly, so I can pose you and get down to work.  Duh."

Still smiling, Sam raised a "surprised" eyebrow.  "You mean you were serious?  You really want to paint me?  I thought we were just goofing off to get back at Kenzy for being so bossy."

"No, I'm going to paint you, like I said," Danica responded, then spun on her bare feet and padded to the cabinet/chest-of-drawers.  "Get naked."  She opened a cabinet door... then paused.  "No, wait!  I have a better idea."  She closed the cabinet, took a step to the side, opened one of the drawers, reached inside and pulled out some sort of folded garment.  Then, she let it fall open and padded towards her presumptive model.  Between her two hands and fluttering from its spaghetti straps was a spruce-green, silky, somewhat skimpy camisole.  "Okay, now get naked," she suggested (ordered), "then put this on."
Sam stared at Danica and the rather flimsy, rather abbreviated garment dangling from her would be portrait artist's hands.  It was very pretty, she had to admit, and the color would complement her ginger hair and freckled complexion to perfection; but it was also girlie, far too girlie for Sam's taste.  She hated it.  "No," Sam huffed (and pouted).

Danica and the ultra-feminine camisole in question were now close at hand.  "Don't be a spoilsport!" the enthusiastically smiling blonde pleaded.  "I need it to fulfill my artistic vision.  Pleeeeease?"

Sam glowered at the camisole for several disapproving seconds... then rolled her green eyes, snatched it from Danica's hands, tossed it on the wing-chair's back, then pulled her tank-top over her head.

"Goodie!" Danica enthused, then padded (scampered) back to the cabinet, opened the door, pulled out a rather large (and ominous, in Sam's opinion) duffel-bag of black ballistic nylon, then lugged it back to the daybed.

Meanwhile, Sam removed her boots, socks, cargo shorts, and finally her dingy-white, nearly worn out, and arguably boring Hanes Cool Comfort® briefs... then donned the camisole, straightened her loose hair, and looked down at herself.  Without a mirror it was difficult to be sure, but her initial assessment was confirmed.  The color suited her peachy-pink, freckled complexion and ginger hair, and the thin, silky fabric hugged the curves of her torso, but it was short... too short!  Sam was naked from the mid-tummy down!  The overall effect was arguably sexy (and incredibly cute), but not Sam-appropriate.  She still hated it.

"Perfect!" Danica gushed as she dropped the duffel-bag next to the daybed.  "Now, over here."

Hands on hips, Sam glowered at Danica.  "You don't have matching panties that go with this thing?"

"Of course I do," Danica giggled, "but they aren't appropriate for this tableau."

"Appropriate," Sam muttered.  Her hands were on her hips in Heroic Stance and her freckled expression was one of mildly peeved disapproval.

Danica was unmoved by her model's petulant resistance.  "It's my artistic vision, remember?"

Sam glared at the smiling artist for several seconds... then stomped (padded) towards the daybed, her ginger locks wafting behind her irate head.

"Brilliant!" Danica gushed as her model approached, then stooped, unzipped the main compartment of the duffel, and pulled out a large coil of what appeared to be medium-brown, triple-braided, three-eighths-inch hemp rope!

Sam skidded to a stop (causing her ginger hair to sway) and her green eyes popped wide.  "Wait-what?" she demanded.  "No!"

"Don't act so surprised," Danica purred.  "Two birds with one stone."  She then released the coil's retaining hitch, let the thirty-or-so-feet of rope fall open, then doubled it, found the center, and prepared it for use.  "Art and training," she continued.  "Turn around for me."

"No!" Sam huffed again, stomping her right bare foot for emphasis.

"Pleeeeease?" Danica cajoled.

Sam continued staring at the rope... and blinking.  "Wouldn't want to disappoint the Princess," she muttered, then executed an arguably graceful half-pirouette and crossed her wrists behind her back and atop her pale, firm, naked butt.

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 6

Meanwhile, downstairs in the Ridiculously Over-complicated Rack Room...

Kenzy was naked and supine on the rack with her arms raised.  Her wrists were about two feet apart and locked in the torture engine's hefty steel cuffs with her fingers wrapped around the padded hang-grips.  Her ankles were also two feet apart, locked in the shackles, and on pointe.  The nude redhead was your classic damsel-on-the-rack, although at the moment she was "enjoying" a reasonably generous amount of slack in the chains attached to her restraints.

"Okay... it's a rack," Kenzy huffed, tugging on her wrists and weakly kicking her feet.

"Yes, it's a rack," Gabby purred, then took a firm grip on the rim of a wagon-sized wheel... smiled... then began slowly turning the wheel, which set in motion nearly the entire mechanism!  Chains rattled, ratchets lifted and dropped, gears turned, and counterweights slowly dropped!  Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk, etc, etc.

"Hey!" Sam complained, tugging on her bonds with greater enthusiasm.  "I thought you said all that stuff was disconnected!"  Her wrist and ankle chains were definitely being drawn onto their respective drums and she was definitely losing slack!  Slowly—Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk—but definitely!  Yes, it was a rack!  A real rack!

"I meant the automated features," Gabby purred as she continued turning the wheel.  "Those are the parts that are disconnected."  Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk...  "Or if not actually disconnected than decoupled or set on 'neutral' or 'pass-through' or whatever you want to call it."  Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk... "See, the pendulum isn't swinging."  Click-click-click-thunk...  "But it is a rack, that's for sure."

Kenzy noted that the mechanism's hefty but mysterious pendulum was, indeed, not swinging.  Also the gear ratios involved in stretching her out appeared to be... reversed?  Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk...  A lot of wheel turning on Gabby's part was resulting in only a little stretching.  Maybe it's to allow for fine adjustment, Kenzy posited.

Finally, Gabby stopped turning the wheel and smiled down at Kenzy.  "There," she purred, "I think that's enough for now."

Kenzy noted that the sinister blonde had been doing a lot of purring lately, especially since tricking her into getting naked and allowing herself to be bound on the rack.  Also, after all of Gabby's recent wheel turning, her naked, freckled body (with bikini-lines) was now really stretched!

"You're sooo pretty," Gabby cooed, "all stretched out with your muscles well-defined.  Your abs are a delicious anatomy lesson.  Also, flattened boobies..."  She rested her right palm on Kenzy's left breast.  "Well, semi-flattened boobies."

Kenzy lifted her chin and nodded towards the machine.  "You really have no idea what all the disconnected parts of that thing are supposed to do?"

"Not really," Gabby shook her head, gazing at the mechanism in question...  She then shifted her smile back to the damsel on the rack.  "Something torturous, I'd imagine."

"Very funny," Kenzy huffed, then tugged on her bonds, again (or tried to, anyway).  "Okay, it works.  It's a rack."  She gazed at her right hand and wrist, examining the barrel-lock securing the restraint.  "You can let me go now."

ball-gagGabby's smile broadened.  "Oh, not yet," she chuckled.  "You need time to fully appreciate my ancestors' collective genius."

Kenzy watched as Gabby (the smiling bitch) leaned down to the side of the rack.  There was a dry, scraping sound—Screee—and Kenzy surmised Gabby was opening a drawer of some sort.  The sound repeated—Screee—which Kenzy took to be Gabby closing said drawer; and now the angelically (demonically) smiling blonde was leaning close, and stretched between her hands was a black ball-gag!

"Medical-grade silicon," Gabby purred, "with breathing holes!"

Kenzy tugged on her bonds as the gag approached.  "No!  Gabby!  I said no—MRRRFH!"

Smiling like a gloating witch—a pretty, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, very sexy, but definitely gloating witch—Gabby had thrust the ball into Sam's protesting mouth and was buckling the strap tight at the nape of her neck, under Kenzy's tousled ginger crop.

Kenzy wiggled and squirmed and stared very sharp, very formidable, and very imaginary-and-therefore-harmless daggers at her treacherous captor and/or torturer.

"Even better," Gabby sighed as she finished arranging Kenzy's still somewhat messy hair, then once again rested her palm on Kenzy's left breast.  "I love your freckles, by the way," Gabby said.  "Your sister's freckles as well... but I'm a little disappointed you both don't have allover freckles.  The pale skin over your nipples and pussy is sexy, in its own way, but I'd much rather you had a rich forest of free-range freckles."  Gabby's smile faded.  "Wait.  Do freckles come in 'forests?'  And they don't roam around, so how can they be 'free-range?'"  Her smile returned.  "No matter.  I'm sure you know what I mean."

Just then... Click!

Kenzy turned her head to face the Ridiculously Over-complicated Rack Chamber's only door.

Gabby spun on her sandals, turning her entire body, and also gave the door her full attention.

The portal opened... and Nora and Kimiko strolled across the threshold.  Nora was in sandals and her usual seasonal sundress, while Kimiko was in high-heel pumps, a black pencil skirt, and a white cotton blouse showing significant cleavage.

Nora was smiling, but in a regal and somewhat disapproving manner.  "You were right, Kimiko-sama," she sighed.  "As always."

Kimiko bowed to the Nordberg matriarch... then focused on Gabby.  "I am disappointed in you, Gabrielle," she said quietly.

It was then that Kenzy noticed that both Nora and Kimiko were carrying coils of hemp rope.

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 6

Meanwhile, upstairs in Danica's Studio...

Danica's "artistic vision" took something between forty-five minutes and a full hour to blossom forth and fully manifest itself.

Sam was now naked (not counting the very pretty but excessively girly-girl spruce-green camisole "covering" her torso from her shoulders to her midriff, her bellybutton playing peekaboo as she squirmed), and had allowed herself to be box-tied.  She'd then obediently knelt atop the carefully rumpled and arranged covers of the daybed with her legs together and tucked to the left with her upper body vertical, as directed.  Danica then tied Sam's knees together, cinched the bindings, then did the same to her ankles.  This initial bondage happened rather quickly, but what followed took more time.

Obviously, Danica had set herself the task of making sure Sam stayed exactly where she wanted her to be, and her method of choice was to lash rope through Sam's ankle and knee bonds, then stretch the doubled strands across the mattress, down to decorative but fully-functional iron rings dangling from the daybed's carved wooden frame, thereby removing all the slack, then tying arguably decorative knots.  The resulting guy ropes were taut enough to dimple the edge of the mattress and quite effectively prevented Sam from squirming her butt and folded legs more than... a half-inch in any direction?  Anyway, Sam was now pinned in place in two dimensions.

As for the third dimension, Danica made use of three more decorative-but-functional iron rings, two embedded in pilasters on opposite sides of the studio, and a third dangled from the underside of an elaborately carved beam directly over Sam's head.  The ginger captive had noticed the multitude of innocently decorative rings integrated into all the room's carvings during the initial survey, but only now realized that they were all effective lashing points and that Danica's Studio was also Danica's Bondage Studio!

Anyway, Danica stood on a folding step-stool and passed the end of a long hemp rope through the overhead ring... threaded it through the nexus of Sam's box-tie ropes behind her back... back up through the ring... back down through the nexus... back up to the ring, once again... then pulled out all the slack.  Horizontal side ropes were similarly tied between the nexus and the pilasters.

Finally, Danica took a step back.  "You may commence your Courtesy Struggle," she solemnly intoned.

Sam rolled her eyes, then followed the artist's instructions by wiggling, squirming, and generally struggling, attempting to defeat Danica's magnificently applied bonds as best she could.  This time she was methodical, not demonstrating the unrestrained and athletic enthusiasm she'd tried during her last encounter with Danica's rigging skills; however, her efforts proved to be just as ineffective.  While this was happening, Sam realized that half her weight was being carried by the vertical rope linking her to the ceiling, and the other half by her legs and butt as they rested on the daybed's mattress.  The midair horizontal guy-ropes seemed to carry none of her weight, but they were highly effective at pinning her in place.

For what it was worth, Sam was impressed by Danica's skills.  Not only were the ropes binding her body tight, well-cinched, and inescapable, but the strands linking her to the ceiling beam and the pilasters on either side were taut as the proverbial fiddle-strings.  A "trucker's hitch" had been incorporated in each set as they were tied and it was as if the box-tie's nexus was simply fixed in mid-air.  Finally, all three sets had been neatly and artistically finished with elegant knots and the free ends wrapped around the other ropes with their last few inches neatly hitched.  Sam's perspective was limited, but she was impressed.  Princess knew the ropes!

Also, once Sam was bound in place and could do nothing to stop her, Danica pulled the left spaghetti-strap of Sam's camisole out from under the shoulder-yoking strands of the box-tie and off her left shoulder, then tugged on the top of the camisole until the upper two-thirds of Sam's freckle-free left breast and her left nipple were exposed!  Of course, the rope-framed and slightly squeezed boob and nipple had only been technically covered before, given the whisper-thin nature of the spruce-green fabric, but now they were on peekaboo display... like her navel!

"Danica!" Sam complained.  "What the hell?"

"Your déshabillé tells a story," Danica explained.  "You struggled like a wildcat during your capture, especially while you were being tied up, but unfortunately you were overpowered."  She lightly prodded her model's left nipple for emphasis.  "And here's the evidence."

Sam scowled as her left nipple hardened in apparent agreement with her captor, and still covered her right nipple was following suit!  Now, Sam had a humiliating case of the camisole-covered half-pokies... and Danica had noticed!  Traitors, Sam silently excoriated her nipples, then lifted her chin to glower at Danica—but the blonde artist had turned her back and was padding back to the Gothic cabinet/chest-of-drawers across the studio.  Sam organized her thoughts, preparing a scathing diatribe that would put the Princess in her proper place... then abruptly decided to put her speech on hold.

Danica had opened a drawer, pulled something out, and was padding back to the daybed (and her Artistic Vision) with what was unmistakably a panel-gag in her hands!
Sam swallowed nervously.  The gag's face-panel was dark-tan, chamois-thin leather, the hardware dark bronze, and the device was as much a muzzle as a gag-panel.  It had a curved cutout for her nose and a cup for her chin.  Also, integrated in the design was a stout, 1½" strap of the same dark-tan leather.  Finally, on the panel's inside surface a rubber mouth-plug was threaded through the strap, and it was either Sam's old friend, the ugly pastel-green Silencicone glob from her last lesson, or its identical evil twin!


Smiling sweetly, Danica had thrust the carefully sculpted glob between Sam's lips... wedged it between her teeth... then crammed it fully into her mouth!  "Nrrrm!"  The sweetly smiling blonde made sure the glob and the panel/muzzle were properly in place with Sam biting down on the bite-protector, pressing against Sam's lips and lower face, and cupping her chin!  "Mrfff!"  She then tightly secured the buckle at the nape of Sam's neck and freed any strands of ginger hair that had been trapped under the strap.  Danica then took a step back, tucked her hands in the pockets of her lab-coat/artist's-smock, and beamed.

Sam continued complaining—"Nrmfmpfh!"—tossing her head (which caused her tousled hair to flutter)—"NRRR!"—and gave the gag a Courtesy Volume Test.  "MRRRMFH!"  Actually, it was a full-body Courtesy Struggle and Volume Test, with the enthusiasm that had been lacking before.

Danica approved.  "Excellent.  Keep that up 'til you're sweaty, tired, and a little frazzled.  That'll be just the look I'm hoping for... meaning we're hoping for.  Painting a portrait is a joint venture."

Sam continued struggling... and scowling.

"I caught myself a tomboy!" Danica whispered... then her smile evaporated and her blue eyes popped wide.  "Oh!  Did I say that out loud?"  She blushed (prettily), then padded to the filing cabinet next to the desk and computer-workstation, opened the top drawer, pulled out a very expensive looking Sony camera—causing Sam's eyes to pop wide—then padded to her easel, stool, and side-table setup.

Sam shook her head, causing her tousled ginger curls to flutter, once again. "NRRR!  NUH-UH!  NUH-UH!"

"If I didn't know any better," Danica purred as she sat on the stool and raised the camera, "I'd think you didn't want to have your picture taken."  Snap-snap-snap-snap-snap...

"NRRRRR!"  Sam continued struggling and squirming.

"Don't have kittens," Danica teased as she continued taking pictures.  Snap-snap-snap-snap...  "Or should I say cute little fox cubs?"  Snap-snap-snap.  She then carefully set the camera down on the side table.  "The photos are for reference," she explained.  "I rely on memory, like artists of old... but the photos help me track fine details as the light changes and you start getting tired and... slumpy."

Sam stopped struggling and trying to force complaints through her quite effective gag and rededicated herself to staring daggers at the Princess.  She threw in the occasional machete, tomahawk, and Viking hand-axe, and Gurkha kukri for added imaginary havoc, but her target remained smiling and unaffected.  Her nipples were still pointing, even though the studio was a bit on the warm side.  She surmised Danica had set the Studio thermostat a little high to encourage that art-worthy sweat she'd mentioned.  Also, apparently Sam's nips didn't mind being photographed for documentary purposes, the little traitors!

Meanwhile, Danica had climbed off the stool and was padding towards the studio door (which required her to duck under the right half of Sam's guy-ropes).  "I'm going to get some tea," she explained, then opened the door and paused in the threshold.  "I'd bring you back some coffee... but we don't want to fill up your bladder, do we?"

And with that clever witticism, the blonde was gone—Click!—locking the door behind her!

Sam scowled across the studio at the closed and locked door... then heaved a well-gagged sigh, gave her bonds a quick, frustrated squirm, then settled in to await Danica's return.  Tea-slurping bitch! she silently fumed.  Just you wait.  You'll get yours, you, you... blonde!

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 6

Meanwhile, downstairs in the Ridiculously Overly-complicated Rack Room...

Gabby kept her opinions to herself during the ensuing action, saying nothing.  Instead, she expressed her dissatisfaction physically by struggling and squirming as Nora and Kimiko forcibly divested her of her sundress, underwear, and sandals!  Gabby continued resisting in stoic silence as Nora held her arms and Kimiko lashed her in place to one of the Ridiculously Overly-complicated Rack Mechanism's vertical support stanchions with the coils of hemp rope they'd brought to the scene.

Either fortunately or by design, Kenzy enjoyed a nearly unobstructed view of the floor show as her flaxen-haired nemesis was stripped and bound.  This was entertaining, of course, but it became obvious that Gabby had been pulling her punches during the entire process.  She'd let herself get stripped naked and tied up!  Was all of this a farcical melodrama being staged for Kenzy's benefit?  Yes.  Obviously.  (Maybe.)

In any case, the end result was Gabby Nordberg, naked, her back against the cast iron stanchion, inescapably (albeit aesthetically) bound in place, and with the great majority of her frontal anatomy on full view!  As for the details of her bondage...
1.  Gabby's right arm was raised, bent back at the elbow, and bound against a diagonal cross-brace with a cinched ladder-tie technique that encircled and lashed her upper and lower arms together every few inches from her elbow to her shoulder.

2.  Her right wrist was somewhere behind Gabby's neck, shoulders, and the stanchion, but it was clear it had also been lashed in place.

3.  Her left arm was pulled behind her back and the stanchion at the level of her waist, then lashed in place somewhere out of of Kenzy's sight.

4.  Gabby's torso was also bound (of course).  Doubled strands passed above, below, and between her breasts in a crisscross manner.  Additional strands yoked her shoulders, encircled her waist, and pinned her left upper arm against her side and the stanchion.  Everything was cinched in a tight horizontal and diagonal matrix that pressed her body against the iron column.

5.  Gabby's left leg was raised, bent at the knee, and ladder-bound in the manner of her right arm; however, while her right arm was completely immobilized, her left leg was "free" to swing back and forth through a limited range.  Kenzy had no doubt Gabby's left ankle was bound to the back stanchion in some manner, but it was also out of sight, like her left wrist and hand.

6.  Finally, Gabby's right leg was straight, vertical, and lashed to the stanchion every five or six inches... all the way down until the edge of the rack blocked Kenzy's view.
Gabby was totally helpless, and with her left armpit, boobs, flat tummy, pussy, etc., on open display.  She squirmed, struggled, and tested her incredible bonds for several seconds... then heaved a pitiful sigh and stopped.  It was clear the naked, fit, and curvaceous blonde was not happy.

"Mrrrmpfh," the prisoner-of-the-stanchion whimpered.

Yes, Gabby had been gagged—of course she'd been gagged—and in a manner that was technically simple but (for Kenzy) elevated The Game to a whole new level!  Either the ventilated ball-gag currently plugging Kenzy's mouth was the only dedicated damsel-silencing technology available in the chamber, or Nora and Kimiko had deliberately decided to go old-school while simultaneously upping the kinkiness factor!

First, Kimiko had crammed Gabby's panties into her mouth!  Then, apparently dissatisfied with the modest volume of Gabby's crumpled undies, she'd expropriated Kenzy's workaday bikini-panties from atop her boots, socks, shorts, and tank-top, and crammed them in after Gabby's thong!  This required a great deal of careful prodding and tucking, which Gabby had not appreciated.  "Mrrrm!"  Then, while Nora helped by holding the greatly enhanced stuffing in her cousin's bulging mouth with her right hand, Kimiko folded a black, summer-weight hair-scarf into a narrow bandage, tied an overhead knot in the middle, then deftly swapped it for Nora's hand-gag and gave Gabby a tight cleave-gag that she double-knotted at the nape of Gabby's neck under her now tousled blond hair.  To Kenzy's amusement (and approval) Gabby's cheeks now resembled those of a chipmunk transporting a large windfall of nuts back to its burrow for winter storage.  Gabby was quite thoroughly gagged!

In Kenzy's also gagged opinion... Gabby had never looked more beautiful.  Her fellow prisoner's skin was dimpled by her twisted-hemp bondage, but none of the ropes looked like they were excessively tight... not that Kenzy was a rope bondage expert or anything.  Also, the skin in question was smooth, firm, and at least somewhat familiar with the sun.  Kenzy had never seen Gabby sunbathing out on the lawn (or anywhere else for that matter), but the uniform nature of her marginal tan and especially her lack of pale-pink boobs and pubic triangle suggested she spent at least some time intentionally soaking up rays.  It was something for Kenzy to investigate... when she wasn't naked, bound to an Overly-complicated Rack, and ball-gagged.

"A wonderful job, Sensi," Nora gushed, then gave Kimiko a courteous bow.

"Most kind," Kimiko responded, bowing back.

And with that, the Nordberg Matriarch and her financial manager turned and left the chamber, closing and locking the door behind them.  Click.

Kenzy and Gabby stared at the closed door... turned their heads and stared at each other... then back to the door... then back to each other.

Well... that happened, Kenzy mused.

Several minutes of awkward silence followed.  Both captives had excellent views of each other's naked bodies and bondage predicaments.  Anatomically, that included their pussies, inner thighs, pubic foliage (ginger in the case of Kenzy and light-brown in the case of Gabby), boobs (semi-flattened and rope-framed, respectively), and gagged faces (ball-gagged and panty-gagged, respectively.  Also, both of Kenzy's armpits were on display, but only Gabby's left pit.  Gabby's was freshly shaved, whereas Kenzy's were showing a few days growth.  Likewise, in Gabby's opinion, Kenzy's legs could also use a shave; however, the redhead's pits and gams were by no means hairy, not by a long shot.

So...  minutes passed in awkward (gagged) silence (as well as surreptitious mutual appraisal).  Both captives squirmed and wiggled for comfort now and then—and it was for comfort.  The time for Courtesy Struggles had long since passed.

Finally...  Click!  ...the door opened and Nora and Kimiko returned.

Nora was pushing an elaborately carved Gothic-style tea cart, the kind appropriate for a maid to serve refreshments upstairs in one of the mansion's many parlors and sitting rooms.  On it was a complete Victorian tea service resting on a silver tray, and next to it was a clear glass vessel with a handle and spout cradled over a burning candle by an elegant iron stand.  Inside the vessel was some sort of amber liquid... possibly oil?  The cart's lower shelf held stacks of neatly folded white towels.

Kimiko was also pushing a cart, but hers was a carrier for a pair of folding chairs and a folding table.

Kenzy and Gabby watched as Nora pushed her cart close to the rack while Kimiko deployed the café-style table and chairs, making a cozy setting near the door.  Next, Nora carried the tea service to Kimiko's table... then returned to her cart and its... oil warming apparatus?

Kenzy's nostrils flared.  A pleasant, subtle, floral aroma was making its presence known.  Lavender?  Also...  Rose?  Kenzy decided the amber fluid was almost certainly was some kind of oil... and she had the sneaking (alarming) suspicion that it very well might be massage oil.  In any case, and it was almost certainly the source of the floral bouquet.

Next, smiling sweetly, Nora lifted the vessel, poured a dollop of oil onto her left palm, then replaced the vessel over the flame and rubbed her hands together.  And then... Kenzy's oily suspicions were confirmed!  The amber fluid was massage oil, and Kenzy was getting a massage, whether she wanted one or not, and Nora was her masseuse!

The smiling, beautiful, 50-something blonde's glistening hands were now gliding over Kenzy's naked, stretched, and immobilized tummy!  Nora widened her gentle, sensual efforts... and soon an ever growing portion of Kenzy's torso was also glistening... then all of her torso... including Kenzy's semi-flattened boobs, her hard nipples, her pale-pink armpits, her prominent ribs, and her flat, stretched abdomen.  Nora replenished the oil on her hands... then continued enlarging her efforts to include Kenzy's arms, followed by her legs, thighs (lower and upper, outer and inner), and finally... Kenzy's labia, mons pubis, and ginger curlies!

At the beginning of the "ordeal" Kenzy had seriously considered forcing a vociferous protest through her ventilated ball-gag, but found that her larynx was inexplicably paralyzed.  Shock?  Fear?  (No, not fear.)  Surprise?  Amazement?  Anyway, Kenzy remained silent, as well as rigid in her bonds (which wasn't exactly a challenge, given the degree of stretch imposed by the rack) and stoically endured Nora's skilled, luxurious, and arguably sensual massage.  Kenzy decided she'd protest later... maybe.  Also, why not enjoy a nice massage?  Just because she was naked, bound, gagged, and stretched, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a little tactile attention from a gorgeous older woman, right?  And it wasn't like Nora's hands were making her horny or anything (especially her masseuse's light caresses of her private anatomy).  Kenzy Munro horny?  Aroused?  Randy?  No siree Bob!  Not even a little!

Besides, if anybody in the chamber was horny, it was Gabby Nordberg.  The naked, bound, and gagged blonde was staring at Kenzy with her big blue eyes and she was clearly enjoying herself.  Okay, maybe she was just being a naked, bound, and gagged villainess and was actually gloating, but then again, Gabby's nipples were erect (like Kenzy's).  At least they were horny.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), all involuntary (and erotic) massages eventually come to an end,  Still smiling sweetly, Nora used a hand towel and a spritz of alcohol from a small plastic spray-bottle to clean her hands, then joined Kimiko at the café table (and damsel viewing venue), settled into the second folding chair, and accepted a cup of tea from her smiling coconspirator.

Back on the rack, Kenzy remained naked, stretched, bound, ball-gagged, and glistening with oil from her upper-arms to her lower legs.  Only her neck, gagged head, and toes were "normal"... although her forehead may have been a little sweaty.  Oh-by-the-way, she noted Gabby also had a slight sweat-glimmer at various locations.  Kenzy considered this supporting evidence for her Gabby-is-a-Horndog theory.

"And now, Kenzy," Nora purred after a second sip of tea, "I think we've established that you're more than willing to participate in our family games; however, I insist that all such participation must be fully regulated."  She shifted her smile to Kimiko.  "Sensi, are you willing to take on another student?"

Kimiko sipped her tea before answering.  "That will be up to Kenzy," she intoned, then nodded at Gabby.  "I will delegate at least part of her instruction to Gabrielle... but only if Kenzy agrees."  She paused to sip her tea.  "The same goes for your adorable little sister, Kenzy, although in Samantha's case I will rely on Danica for assistance."  She smiled at Nora.  "I believe your daughter is up to the challenge."

"My Princess is growing up," Nora purred, then sipped her tea.

"Your Princess is grown up," Kimiko politely corrected, "and like the rest of us, she will continue to grow."  She finished the last of her tea, placed her cup and saucer on the table, then stood.

Nora smiled broadly, finished her tea as well, then also gracefully stood.  "Well, please consider my offer," she said to Kenzy, then bowed to Kimiko.  "You are most generous to accept such a burden, Sensi," she intoned.

"Enough drama," Kimiko laughed.  Then, together with Nora, the pair turned and strolled from the chamber.  The door closed behind them—Click!—and was locked.

Kenzy tugged on her bonds (weakly) and stared at the back of the door.  I thought I was already playing The Game, she thought.  Apparently, once Kimiko is involved, things become... formal.  She shifted her gaze to Gabby, her fellow helpless, bound, and gagged prisoner... the beautiful blonde lashed to the support stanchion... the one gagged with her own and Kenzy's panties.  Kenzy frowned.  I expect to get those back, laundered and folded, she telepathically scolded Gabby, referring to her panties.

Meanwhile, Gabby was weakly testing her bonds (in a seductive manner?) and staring back at Kenzy.  Were her blue eyes smiling?  It was hard to be sure with a gag involving that volume of stuffing.

Kenzy shifted her gaze to the ceiling.  So... do I want to play this Game I thought I was already playing?  She mulled over the offer for several seconds... and continued glistening with oil.  (The glistening was compulsory, of course.)  I guess I better, she finally decided, if nothing else than to make sure nothing 'terrible' happens to the brat.  The brat in question was Sam, of course.  Kenzy would do anything for her kid sister, even things like letting Gabby-the-horndog bind her to an overly-complicated rack—letting Nora give her an involuntary bondage-massage—and letting Kimiko-sama sign her up for an advanced kinkiness course without having read the syllabus.

Her decision made, Kenzy settled in to wait for somebody to unlock the door and release her so she could find Sam and inform the brat that she'd signed her up for a course as well.  As for Gabby...  Kenzy gazed at the smiling (maybe), naked, bound, gagged, and sweating but definitely not glistening blonde.  No, Gabby could find somebody else to untie her.  Gabby was on her own.

The Perils of CONTRACTING  Chapter 6


Chapter 5
PoC-icon Chapter 7