by Van © 2020
			Chapter 4

"I have so much to teach you, darling," Lacey purred.

Heart and breathing rates firmly under control (or not), Skye squirmed in her chair, testing the coil of rope that bound her wrists, pinned her folded arms against her stomach, yoked her shoulders, and was loosely wrapped around her neck.  The test results were pretty conclusive.  Lacey had done an excellent job of tying her up.  Obviously, Skye's hostess was an excellent rigger... based on a sample size of one, anyway.

Skye was a little jealous.  She was secure in her own rigging talent, of course.  Skye had worked hard to improve her skills as a damsel-binder.  Pallavi could attest to that.  But Lacey had style.  Lacey had panache.  Besides, Skye could either sit there and freak out, or she could learn from the experience... and be jealous.

"I coulda tied this," Skye stated evenly.  "Not on myself, of course, but I coulda tied it on somebody else."  She tugged on her wrists, again.  "I coulda done it."

Lacey was still smiling.  "I'm sure you could," she replied, then sipped her tea.

Skye stole a quick glance at her teacup—the one sitting on its saucer on the low table, the one she was now unable to pick up and therefore couldn't sip her tea—then redirected her gaze to her... captor?  An icy, fluttering lump formed in Skye's tummy—the tummy her forearms and bound wrists were pressed against and was encircled by a tight band of hemp rope.  My captor, Skye mused.

"I'm sure your bondage repertoire is extensive," Lacey continued, "but I have decades of training and experience, and in more than the crafting of tight, inescapable, complex patterns of rope or cord."  She set down her teacup and once again steepled her fingers.  "There's more to my profession than binding a willing subject in an artistic manner.  Some clients enjoy the thrill of role-playing the damsel-in-distress.  They revel in the experience of being taken prisoner and involuntarily restrained.  I have training in that, as well."

Skye swallowed nervously.

"That said, physically overpowering a client can be problematical," Lacey continued.  "Fortunately, there are other options."  She nodded to the tea service on the table.  "In one scenario, I could pretend to drug the subject's tea.  That would require full complicity on her part, of course.  Like I said, role-playing." 

Skye glanced at her teacup, again.  She was sure she hadn't been drugged... unless it was an herbal concoction that caused elevated heart rate, labored breathing, and wide eyes.  Also, the tea had been too tasty to be tainted.  Drugs taste bitter, right?

Meanwhile, Lacey's smile became chillingly predatory (in Skye's opinion).

"In another scenario," Lacey purred, "I could trick my prospective victim into bondage, by which I mean trick her into just enough bondage that I have complete control and can do whatever I want."

Skye blinked several times, then swallowed, nervously.

Lacey chuckled.  "You should see your face, darling," she said as she stood and lifted Skye to her feet, "literally."

"Hey!" Skye objected, but didn't struggle.

"Hush," Lacey purred, then led her prisoner to the full length mirror.  Side-by-side and with her right arm draped over Skye's shoulders, they gazed at their reflections.

Lacey's smile remained gorgeous and chilling (in Skye's opinion), and Skye's eyes remained wide (and worried).  She thought Lacey looked amazing in her new dress, by the way, despite her lack of underwear.  She was tall, stylish, and gorgeous (again, In Skye's opinion).  Skye knew that she, herself, was also quite attractive, of course, and Lacey's "straitjacket-tie" was something of a statement, in a less-is-more sort of way.  Screw jealousy, Skye decided.  I can't wait to try this on Pallavi... however...

"Uh... shouldn't a 'straitjacket-tie' bind the the wrists around the body in the opposite directions?" Skye inquired.  "You know what I mean?  Left wrist pulled to the right and right wrist to the left?  Like the sleeves of a straitjacket?  This is more a 'tummy-hug-tie,' don't ya think?"

"Clever girl," Lacey chuckled, squeezed her prisoner's shoulders, kissed the top of her head, led her to the bed, helped her sit, then encouraged her to lie back and scoot all the way onto the mattress.  Actually, it was another demonstration of Lacey's complete control of the situation (meaning her guest), but Skye had cooperated.  Much to her surprise, the near-panic she'd felt earlier had subsided and been largely replaced by curiosity... and amazement at being tied up!

"Don't worry, darling," Lacey purred as she sat on the foot of the bed and began unbuckling and removing Skye's sandals.  "I'm not what we call in the trade an abhorrently nasty dominatrix.  My sisters and I have sworn to 'do no harm,' in the manner of physicians.  And that includes bruises, rope burns, sprained joints, and bloodletting.  You have my word.  No harm."

"That's good," Skye nodded.  "I mean... uh... I'm all in favor of no harm."  Lacey's promise was reassuring, of course, but Skye was very much aware that she'd waltzed right into Lacey's enough-bondage-to-allow-control scenario.  Lacey was in control.  Skye Gilroy was not.

Still smiling, Lacey patted Skye's thigh.  "Wait here while I get what I need to continue the demonstration."

Skye watched as Lacey stood and strolled back to the chest of drawers from which she'd produced the coil of hemp rope currently binding her in the straitjacket-tie/tummy-hug-tie.  "Uh... I thought the 'demonstration' was all over," Skye muttered as she tugged on the tie in question.  "I have to get back to work and...  Oh."

Lacey had opened and closed the drawer and was returning with a second coil of hemp rope and two coils of thin, coyote-brown paracord, all of which she dropped on the bed.

"What're ya gonna do?" Skye demanded as Lacey released the retaining hitch of the hemp coil.  "Oh!  Hey!"

Lacey had rolled her young guest onto her stomach and was tying one end of the rope to the nexus of the straitjacket-tie at the small of Skye's back.  "Just relax, darling," she chuckled.  "This won't take very long."

Skye's heart was pounding again.  Lacey was looping the rope around her thighs, hitching it between her thighs and pulling out all the slack, then stretching it down and repeating the process just above her knees... then just below her knees... then around her shins and calves... and finally, was binding her ankles together!

"You're separating the rope again!" Skye whined.  "You're goin' single strand!"

"Kinbaku practice generally favors doubling the rope," Lacey conceded, "but this is not a Kinbaku demonstration.  This is a demonstration of control."

"Oh," Skye sighed.  It was already too late to resist, so she just relaxed on the bed (in a totally non-panicked sort of way) and continued watching as Lacey rolled her over onto her back, completed the ankle-bind, and tied the final knot.  Her legs were now pressed together and ladder-tied along their entire length.  Bending her knees and tucking her legs would now be a severely limited proposition.  She didn't even try.

Meanwhile, Lacey was preparing one of the coils of paracord for use, and this time she was using the double-and-find-the-center technique.  "I think I'll indulge myself and show off a little," she purred, then set to work.

"Huh?  Oh!"  Skye blinked and watched as her hostess tied a lark's head through her ankle-bonds, then looped the doubled cord around her feet... tightened the cord with a hitch... tied her big toes together... then stretched the remaining cord around the lower left bedpost, knelt, and tied a final knot somewhere near the floor.  She then watched as Lacey stood, picked up the second coil of cord, strolled to the head of the bed, prepared the cord for use, looped and tightened it under the shoulder-yoking-rope at the nape of her neck, then looped it around the upper right bedpost, knelt, and tied it off somewhere near the floor.

Skye squirmed and wiggled.  She was now stretched diagonally across the bed with about six-inches of slack, three-inches at the top and three at the bottom, more-or-less.

Meanwhile, Lacey had collected her former dominatrix costume, tugging free the parts of the black thigh-boots, corset, and black silk robe trapped under Skye's bound form as required.  She then carried everything into what Skye realized was a walk-in closet... then returned and smiled down at her helpless guest.

Skye blinked and gazed up at her hostess (captor), then took a deep swallow.  "Uh... thanks for the demo," she said (croaked), and I'm glad you like the dress.  Now, if you'll untie me—"  She squirmed for emphasis.  "—I need to get back to Plumeria in time to help with the lunch crowd."

Lacey's smile widened, she strolled back to the Nefarious Chest of Drawers Full of Demonstration Material, pulled something from a drawer, then returned to the bed with the something in question hidden behind her back.  "But the demonstration isn't over, darling," she purred, then thrust the black, hollow, perforated, silicon-rubber, mouth-plugging sphere of a ball-gag into Skye's mouth, then buckled its strap at the nape of Skye's neck, under her tousled, ginger hair and tight enough to cause her freckled cheeks to bulge!

"MRRRF!" Skye complained.  For the first time in her life she was bound and gagged!  "MRRRF!" she reiterated, then squirmed for all she was worth!

Lacey resumed gazing down at the wiggling, rolling, struggling captive stretched across her bed.

Skye continued squirming... and squirming... then stopped squirming, heaved a ball-gagged sigh, and gazed up at her beautiful, smiling, (and gloating) captor.

"Timing is an important element of any session," Lacey lectured.  "Knowing exactly how long to leave a client bound and gagged before moving on to other things is something that comes with experience.  Planning, preparation, and timing are the hallmarks of a true professional."  She spun on her high heels and strolled towards the walk-in closet.  "Why don't you relax and enjoy yourself while I call your mother and tell her that you won't be returning to work today?  Then I think I'll change into some work clothes."

Huh?  Skye blinked in distress and watched as Lacey opened the closet door, crossed the threshold, and closed it behind her.  "Mrrrf?" Skye inquired, but was too late.  Her hostess was in the closet... so to speak.

Silence!  Tight (but not too tight) ropes!  Ball-gag!  Total helplessness!  No access to tea!

"Where's Skye?" Harper muttered.

"Still making our first ever home delivery," Pallavi answered.

At the moment the shop-girls were free to chat.  There was a lull in the action, a lull that in all probability would soon to be followed by a rush of noontime customers.

"I know she's making our first ever home delivery," Harper huffed, "but why isn't she back?  I'm going to miss my break."

"I already missed my break," Pallavi noted, "but you don't hear me complaining."

"No, you're gonna wait 'til Skye gets back and then complain," Harper muttered.

Pallavi smiled.  "You must admit it's a cunning plan."

Harper smiled back, but also rolled her eyes.  "And what's up with Jodi?  She's been moping around ever since Skye left.  Your mom's also acting weird."

Pallavi shrugged.  "Damn if I know."

Just then, the bell over the front door jingled and a pair of well-dressed, middle-aged matrons entered the shop.  The girls smiled and moved to intercept, ready to provide assistance.

Across the sales floor, Jodi was doing her best to keep the proverbial stiff upper lip.  Kanoa stood nearby, ready to comfort her partner and shepherd her into the office if she broke down and started bawling—and Jodi was ready to return the favor if her partner collapsed.  Obviously, they were both worried about Skye, but the remaining sales staff had no idea why.

Rope-bound, ball-gagged, and helpless, Skye rolled on her captor's gigantic bed... to the extent her toe and upper-body-harness paracord tethers would allow.  The bed's counterpane was now a little rumpled in the immediate area of her helpless form, but for the most part the Victorian-style bedspread remained neat and unwrinkled.

So, Skye thought, this is what goes through Pallavi's head when she's my 'victim.'  Wow.  The same went for Harper, of course.  Wow.  Before, during, and after rendering one or both of her friends helpless (like Skye was now), she'd mainly been preoccupied with her own feelings, which was predominantly the thrill of complete control, and not the experience of being a helpless damsel.  That said, the experience of being inescapably bound and gagged was at once familiar and different.  It was a matter of perspective, the flip-side of the coin.  Being bound and gagged was... instructive.   I wonder why I never thought to try this before?  Skye squirmed her bound body, tugged on her bound wrists, and kicked (or tried to kick) her bound legs.  This is downright educational.  Of course, the very idea of asking Pallavi or Harper to tie her up was ridiculous, ludicrous, and totally bonkers.  But maybe I could have tried self-bondage, Skye reasoned, as an experiment.

- Mistress Monjeau by Turk -

Suddenly (finally!) the closet door reopened and Mistress Monjeau (Professional Dominatrix Extraordinaire) returned to scene of her perfidious crime and/or demonstration.  And she was no longer wearing the pretty Summer dress and complementary high-heel pumps Skye had so diligently and innocently delivered to Lacey's lair—and been bound and gagged for her trouble!  Lacey's longish, raven's-wing-black hair was still loose about her shoulders, framing her beautiful (sinister), perfectly made-up face; however, now she was wearing a truly magnificent sleeveless catsuit of gleaming, chamois-thin, black leather, with generous cutouts covered by black mesh fabric! 

Clearly, it was one of Lacey's "working uniforms," an outfit she wore while performing her duties as a "Lifestyle Consultant."  It included a pair of what Skye decided to call black leather "opera-bracers."  They covered Lacey's arms from wrists to mid-upper-arms and were more-or-less opera gloves that didn't cover her palms or fingers.  There was also a pair of open-toe stiletto-heel knee-boots, also in gleaming black leather.

The outfit was wicked, with barely enough coverage to be worn in public!  Everything was skintight, hugging Lacey's athletic and very feminine curves, and the leather was thin enough to reveal a pair of leather pokies and a camel-toe between her legs.

Skye was willing to concede that all or part of Mistress' costume might be synthetic "pleather," not expensively tanned and cured cowhide, but thought it was probably leather.  Almost certainly leather.  And its gleaming-but-not-shiny black finish and ever-so-slightly pebbled texture went well with Lacey's pale, fair, ivory complexion and gleaming, raven-wing hair.

Anyway, Lacey had only been abandoned and languishing in her cruel captivity for something like—ten minutes?—but now Lacey was back!  And she was mega-beautiful, super-sexy, and scary-as-hell!   She was also smiling.

Skye considered pitching a bound and gagged fit and screaming through the ventilated ball-gag (with its dozen or more tiny little breathing/drooling holes) plugging her mouth, but instead decided to be as cool as a bound and gagged cucumber, calmly recline on the bed, and serenely gaze up at her hostess/captor.  Unfortunately, Skye's heart hadn't gotten the memo.  It was pounding again (a little).

"Good news, darling," Lacey gushed as she sat on the bed and patted Skye's rope-bound thigh, "your mother has decided to let you knock off early, so there's no urgent requirement for you to return to Plumeria.  Our demonstration can continue."  Her smile was warm and friendly (in a villainous sort of way).

Skye wiggled in her bonds.  Lacey's hand on her ladder-tied thigh was smooth and warm.  Continue? she thought.  Did she say continue?  "Mrrf?"

"I know you're curious," Lacey purred as she continued her slow caress of Skye's smooth, freckled, rope-dimpled thigh.  "You're used to being the one in control... the one looping, cinching, and knotting the ropes.  Being bound and gagged is a novel experience, and you're finding it to be quite illuminating.  Am I right?"

Skye blinked in response.  She can see right through me!  But... what does 'continue' mean?  I'm already tied up and gagged.  What else is she gonna do?  Much to her surprise (and/or dread) Skye was intrigued (and/or horrified).  However, it didn't seem like a good idea to try and suggest that she might be in favor of additional bondage tutelage.  Skye resumed squirming and struggling, also mewling and tossing her head.  "Mrrrrrf!"

"Stop that," Lacey chuckled.  "You know you don't mean it.  I know you don't mean it."

Skye followed her captor's order, stopped struggling, and locked eyes with her hostess/captor/instructor.  As it turned out, a ball-gag—even a hollow, ventilated "safety"-ball-gag designed for ease of mouth-breathing—made it very difficult to pout and fully express complex emotions, such as her sense of betrayal at being forced to experience the flip side of the damsel-in-distress dynamic.  No, she decided, 'betrayal' is harsh.  She's demonstrating tricking a client, so she isn't 'betraying' me.   Pranking me, maybe, but not betraying me.

Anyway, adding to Skye's emotional distress was the knowledge that Lacey was entirely correct.  Skye actually didn't mean it.  She wanted the demonstration to continue... in a reluctant, terrified sort of way... maybe... kinda.

"Now," Lacey continued, "control has already been established, and the subject..."  She patted Skye's thigh, again.  "which would be you, darling, is helpless."  She resumed her slow caress, and this time enlarged her efforts to include Skye's knees and calves.  "Control has been established and the subject is helpless.  But she could be even more helpless. To be precise, she could be made to feel as if she's more helpless.  Let's explore that aspect, shall we?"

Why're ya askin' me? Skye wondered.  What can I do about it?  And what do you mean by 'more helpless?'  I'm totally tied up.  How can I be more helpless?

"I'm serious, darling," Lacey purred.  "Do you want to continue?"

Skye blinked and stared up at her hostess/captor/prankster/gorgeous-professional-dominatrix.  Her nostrils flared and her breasts heaved, just a little.  Seconds passed.  And then, entirely on its own, Skye's head nodded, causing errant strands of her tousled ginger hair to bounce and flutter.

"My brave little bondage warrior," Lacey cooed, and then, much to Skye's surprise, began untying her legs!

Huh?  Lacey released the knot securing the paracord to the bedpost... untied Skye's big toes, feet, and ankles... then started untying the hemp ladder-tie securing her legs.  But then, while rope was still looped and cinched around Skye's lower legs, Lacey used the paracord to tie Skye's ankles together.  Technically, kicking was now possible, but Skye could tell any such efforts would be ineffectual and easily avoided... and she wasn't going to kick her hostess anyway.  Kicking would be rude.

Next, Lacey untied the paracord pinning Skye's upper body on the bed, lifted her up and made sure she'd safely planted to her ankle-bound bare feet on the plush carpet, then pushed her against the closest bedpost and looped a single strand of paracord around her neck and the post!  She held the cord tight but didn't tie a knot.

"Mrrrf!" Skye complained.

"Calm down, darling," Lacey purred, leaning close with her smiling lips inches from Skye's left ear.  "This is only a demonstration, so there's no need to take stringent measures.  You understand, of course, that I could tighten a noose around your pretty little neck and haul you up until you were balanced on your pretty pink toes.  You'd have no choice but to stand perfectly still and offer no resistance while I made any revisions to your situation I might desire.  You do see that, don't you?"

Skye blinked in distress.  "Mrrr!"  Yes, yes, I do!

"Good," Lacey continued.  "Since you're willing to concede the point, I'm willing to accept your parole and we can forgo even the possibility of asphyxiation.  You do agree to cooperate, don't you?"

Yeah.  Sure.  Why not?  Skye blinked and managed something resembling a nod, despite the cord still around her neck and the bedpost.  "Urr!"

"Good."  Lacey released the cord and tossed it on the bed.

And then, Skye felt her hostess/captor fiddling with her rope bonds.  A knot was untied, some of the hemp strands went slack and some remained taut, and then...  What the...?  Lacey's fingers had shifted to the zipper securing her dress!  Zippp...  And she was unzipping it!  "MRRRF!"

"Stop squirming, you little ginger wiggle-worm," Lacey chuckled.

"MRRRF!"

Skye's heart was pounding again, and her breasts were definitely heaving as she panted, sending air whistling through her ventilated ball-gag.  Skye realized she was bound and gagged in a classic bodice-ripping situation with a super-sexy dominatrix doing the ripping!  But to be fair, Lacey wasn't ripping anything.  She was removing Skye's dress with diligent care.  It wasn't being ripped.  Also, super-sexy-Lacey was meticulously rearranging Skye's rope bonds as she went!  That is, Lacey was untying and retying her hemp bonds, freeing her arms, one at a time, so she could pull the dress free, also the underlying bra, then retying the ropes, all the while retaining enough control to make Skye's continuous squirming and twisting resistance ineffective.

And Skye was resisting.  Was she curious?  Yes.  Did she want the rigging demo to continue?  Yes.  Did she want to be stripped naked and tied up?  Hell no!  Did she insist on Pallavi and/or Harper being naked when she tied them up?  Also hell yes, but this was... different.  Skye resisted.

Unfortunately, Skye's resistance didn't seem to be making any difference.  Granted, it was taking a great deal of time and effort for Lacey to get her out of her clothes and change her bondage, but Skye found that anything she tried was ineffective.  Mistress Monjeau was both an expert rigger and an expert handler!

Anyway, Skye's ineffectual squirming was making her sweaty and out of breath.  Of course, given her emotional turmoil, conflicted feelings, and the novelty of her kinky situation, some degree of respiratory difficulty might be expected.  She wasn't having a panic attack—Skye Gilroy didn't do panic attacks, thank you very much—but she did find herself in something of a state.

And speaking of Skye's state, when Lacey was finished, she found herself back on the bed, totally naked (nude, starkers, sans clothing), ventilator-ball-gagged, and tied up!  Also, hemp had been replaced by paracord, and Lacey had used both lengths.  One lashed her crossed wrists together, pressed against the small of her back, encircled her waist, and bisected her crotch with two strands pressing her labia together!

Skye more-or-less freaked out!  Crotch-rope!  Crotch-rope!  Crotch-rope!  Maybe a panic-attack wasn't such a bad idea.  She wiggled and squirmed, but Lacey controlled her with depressing ease.

And the one-and-only key knot to her wrist-waist-crotch-bonds—the one that had to be untied before she could escape, get dressed, get the ball-gag out of her drooling mouth, thank Lacey for the demonstration, and hightail it back to Plumeria—was tied across her navel!  The second length of paracord remained looped and cinched around her ankles, but now it was also looped and cinched around her feet and looped and cinched around her big toes!

Arms folded under her breasts and a wicked smile on her beautiful face, Lacey gazed down at her naked, bound, and gagged young guest (and potential apprentice).  "You are very beautiful, Skye," she purred, "like your mother."

Skye blinked, tugged on her paracord-bonds, kicked her paracord-bound feet, panted through her ventilated ball-gag, and tried to calm herself as Lacey sat on the bed.

"And no tan lines," Lacey continued.  "Obviously, you sunbathe in the nude."  She reached down and touched Skye's left hip.  "In your backyard?"  Her hand began to move... slowly caressing Skye's smooth, freckled skin.

Skye shivered and nodded her head.

"I see," Lacey smiled.  "I assume you have privacy screening of some sort.  Hedges?"

Skye nodded, again.  The caress of her hip and outer thigh continued.  Being massaged by a super-sexy dominatrix in a super-sexy and very revealing but technically modest costume felt good.  A delicate shiver rippled through Skye's cord-squeezed pussy.  Who knew?

"Does your mother sunbathe with you?"

Skye started blinking again.  My mother?  Mom?  She nodded, again.

"I see."  Lacey continued her slow, gentle, gliding stroking of Skye's hip... and thigh.  "And what about your friend Pallavi and her mother?  Do they join you?  Do they have backyard hedges of their own?  Do you join them?"

Huh?  Skye blinked and shivered, but this time she didn't nod.  The answers were all yes, of course, but she'd just as soon not discuss the basking habits of her family, biological and non-biological.

"Not important," Lacey chuckled, then stood, resumed her dominant (gloating) stance with her arms crossed under her spectacular, semi-exposed boobs.  "Anyway... now you see what I meant by making you more helpless.  Nudity takes the experience to a significantly higher level.  Don't you agree?"

Skye did agree.  She agreed very much.  That's why, whenever possible, I have Pallavi and Harper strip when I tie them up.

"Now," Lacey added, "another enhancing element is to ensure the subject believes escape is an actual impossibility, so..."

Skye watched (with understandable but only semi-panicked interest) as Lacey gathered the two coils hemp rope that had constituted the majority of her former bonds (meaning her pre-nakedness bonds).  Lacey looped the end of one coil around her neck several times (loosely and under her tousled ginger curls), tied what Skye was sure was a non-compacting knot, tied a clove-hitch around the upper right bedpost, then tied a knot down near the floor.  Next, Lacey looped the end of the second hemp coil around Skye's already cord-bound ankles, several times, tied a carefully compacted knot, tied another clove-hitch around the lower left bedpost, then tied a final knot down near the floor.

Skye was now diagonally stretched and pinned across the bed, as before, when the hemp had been binding her body and the cord doing the stretching and pinning.  Also, she had the same amount of slack, six inches, total, enough to let her wiggle, squirm, kick, and roll, a little, but only on the bed.  Getting off the bed, hopping around, exploring the bedroom, and finding something sharp with which to free herself was now impossible.  She would not be regaining her freedom... or her clothes.

And speaking of clothes, having seen to Skye's Total Naked Helplessness, Lacey was now gathering Skye's dress, bra, panties, and sandals, and was carrying them into the walk-in closet.  Skye resolved to use her captor's absence to defy the odds and escape and started wiggling in earnest.  All she succeeded in doing was rearranging her hair from tousled to... tousled.  The effort left several errant strands draped across her ball-gagged face.

Lacey returned from what Skye assumed was hanging up her dress, then strolled to the bedroom door, paused in the threshold, and smiled back at her naked, bound, and gagged young guest.  "I gave you time to get used to being helpless, so now I'll give you more time to get used to being more helpless.  Then, we can move on to the real demonstration."

Skye watched (and panted and squirmed) as her super-sexy dominatrix hostess pulled the bedroom door closed... and was gone... and she was alone... again.

She really didn't need to go to all this trouble, Skye mused as she tugged on her wrist bonds, fluttered her fingers, and groped for something to untie... but the key knot was still on the other side of her body, tied across her bellybutton.  And it was also anchored in place by the crotch-cords, so it didn't even slide in response to her struggles, not even a little.  She heaved a ball-gagged sigh and settled in to wait.

Whatever Lacey had meant by "real demonstration" was far from reassuring... and was a mystery... and all Skye could do was wait... and squirm... and drool.