by Van ©2021
		Chapter 6

Paige and those of her Girls who weren't post-bound returned to the pergola with mugs of hot coffee and took careful sips as they watched Chelsea and Ivy commence their Courtesy Struggles, the preliminary testing-of-the-bonds expected of all newly bound Bindees.

From the spectator's point of view, when the Binders know what they're doing (and Betty and Ripley certainly qualified), escape-type events at the Olympic level can be rather... monotonous.  It looked like that might be the case on Day Two.

Taped and cable-tied in place, at full-stretch with her arms raised, Ivy's Courtesy Struggle was limited to rolling her eyes, a little very low-level squirming, and wiggling those of her toes that weren't vripped together with a cable-tie.

"I call foul," Ripley objected, pointing at the Team Alice Bindee.  "She isn't even trying.  That's poor sportsmanship."

Sophie nodded in agreement.

Paige smiled, locked eyes with Ivy, and stepped forward.  "Are you trying, Sweetcakes?" she purred, then formed her hands into claws, fluttered her fingers, and began lightly tickling Ivy's armpits.

Ivy whined through her triple-tape-gag (with foam-ball-stuffing), squirmed against the post, and wiggled her toes with great enthusiasm.

"Hey, I wanted to do that," Ripley pouted.  "Ow!"  Sophie had reached out and given the skin of Ripley's closest arm a warning pinch.

"It's good to be the Umpire," Paige noted, then dropped her hands.  "I rule that the Team Alice Bindee is, indeed, doing her best to render an adequate Courtesy Struggle, and therefore...  I penalize Team Chelsea for registering an egregiously unwarranted objection."  She focused her smile on Sophie, then nodded towards Ripley.  "Wrists behind the back for one hour," she ordered.

Sophie heaved a sigh (and managed not to grin), then took Ripley by the arm, dragged her pouting teammate to the materials table, and selected a fourteen-inch cable-tie.  "Palm-to-palm," she ordered, then leaned close and whispered in her teammate's ear.  "And if you want to stay out of the penalty box, you'll stop being such a whiny little drama queen."

"Said the queen of all drama queens," Ripley muttered, heaved another sigh, then took her medicine with Brave Fortitude.  Seriously, it was downright inspirational.  And it was understandable why she would want to follow Sophie's advice and not be irritating and whiny.  The penalty box was a real box, it wasn't very spacious (especially from the inside), and it had a lock!  Ripley would just as soon stay out of the box, thank-you-very-much.

Meanwhile Sophie had vripped the tie around Ripley's wrists, and now was vripping an eight-inch tie around her thumbs, as well!  Then, she vripped four more ties around each pair of Ripley's remaining fingers!  Vrrrip.  Vrrrip.  Vrrrip.  Vrrrip.

"Showoff," Alice huffed.

"Just practicing," Sophie said with a sweet smile.  She then selected three thirty-six-inch ties, tightened the first around Ripley's upper-arms and torso, above her boobs (Vrrrip!), the second around her upper-arms and torso below her boobs (Vrrrip!), and the third around her forearms and waist (Vrrrip!).  Finally, Sophie used cable-ties of various lengths to reinforce Ripley's bonds by cinching the ties around the three thirty-six-inch ties between Sophie's arms and body and her waist and forearms.

Scowling ferociously, Ripley executed a vigorous Courtesy Struggle.  It wasn't strictly required as she wasn't a contestant, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.  It also helped her burn off a little frustration.

"It's really humiliating when the ends of the cable-ties flop around like that," Alice noted.  "Don't ya think?"

Everyone turned and stared at Alice, even the Bindees bound to their respective posts.

"Your point being, Captain Obvious?" Sophie inquired.

Alice shrugged.  "Just sayin'."

Paige picked up the trauma scissors and slapped them into Sophie's hand.

The grinning blonde took the hint and neatly severed all the free ends of Ripley's bonds.  "Wouldn't want to humiliate the Goth," she purred.

"Just you wait," Ripley warned her blond teammate.

Sophie smiled at Paige.  "May I tighten a pair of ties around her boobs and link them to her chest and arm ties?

"No, you silly thing," Paige chuckled, "you may not."  She then turned her smile to Chelsea and her post.

Chelsea had put her Courtesy Struggle on hold to watch the penalty drama, but took the hint and resumed her efforts to escape.  Thanks to the difference in their bonds, Chelsea's efforts were much more overtly vigorous than Ivy's, but nonetheless they were quite obviously futile in the extreme.

Paige, Alice, Betty, and Sophie smiled and watched the show, sipping their coffee.  Ivy and Chelsea continued their struggles.  Ripley watched the squirming Bindees and pouted.

Sophie picked up Ripley's mug and held it so the penalized player could take a sip.

"Thanks," Ripley huffed, "Blond airhead."

"You're welcome," Sophie responded, "Goth dweeb."

The Bindees took a short breather... then resumed trying to escape.

The Day Two event was off to a roaring start... or had ground to a halt, depending on your perspective.

After a few minutes, Paige gathered the now empty coffee mugs onto a tray, then headed for the kitchen, a clear signal that the Courtesy Struggle was over and the actual escaping could commence.

"Swim?" Betty suggested, and the others nodded in agreement.  As previously mentioned, near-total immobility doesn't make for thrilling sports action.

Ivy and Chelsea relaxed in their bonds.  They'd lost their audience, so there was no point in continuing to squirm up a sweat.  It looked like the Bindee's teammates were having a good time in the water.  Even the cable-tie-bound Ripley was splashing around in the shallows and laughing.

It was disgusting... and looked like fun.

The hours of the morning crawled by as the sun climbed towards its zenith and the Bindees failed to escape.  Ivy and Chelsea squirmed, wiggled, and tested their bonds, without apparent progress or great enthusiasm.  They didn't waste all their time with useless struggles, only bothering to fight for their freedom when one of the non-Binders paused in their swimming, sunbathing, drink swilling, or other leisure activities to watch the "show."  Seriously, the entertainment value of the "Postal Escape" event was on the level of watching paint dry.

Ripley served her penalty time and was released.  Truth be told, more than one hour passed before Ripley managed to find Paige, stand before her, squirm in her bonds, and pout.  Paige gave Sophie a significant look and tapped her wristwatch.  Sweet Sophie sighed, grabbed the nearest pair of trauma scissors, and carefully severed her teammate's cable-tie bonds.  Her efforts were met with glowering and muttered comments on Ripley's part, but the blonde smiled and completed her task with due diligence.  Then, Sophie gathered the severed ties and depositing them in the nearest trashcan.

In a show of sportsmanship and goodwill, Betty and Alice descended on Ripley and proceed to moisturize the fool out of her arms and torso.  Ripley squirmed, complained, and struggled, but couldn't prevent the oily, slippery, Lavender-scented onslaught.  Betty held her wrists while Alice did most of the slathering, and soon... the pouting "Goth" glistened from neck to waist.  (Ripley could have tried kicking her moisturizing assailants in their respective crotches, but that would have been rude.)

Sophie stood next to Paige as they watched Ripley suffer her moisturized fate.  "That's really nice," she whispered to Paige.  "Are you gonna penalize them for it?"

Paige continued smiling.  "Hmm...  No, I think not... but thanks for the suggestion."

The Bindees had watched the post-penalty drama unfold from their posts... then noticed Paige had swiveled her smile in their direction and resumed "escaping."

Lunch was Taco Salad, enjoyed under the pergola where the non-Bindees could eat, drink, make small talk, and continue watching the Bindees wiggle and squirm.  A good time was had by all (mostly).

After lunch, Paige decreed that the event was officially over.

The non-Bindees clamored for a ruling, for Paige to tell them which team had won and which had lost.

Paige smiled and shook her head.

The non-Bindees redoubled their clamor, then shifted to pathetic pouting.

"You Girls behave!" Paige chuckled.  "I need to witness the unbinding and the bondage aftereffects before I can make my final decision about style points."

The non-Bindees were devastated!  They redoubled their pouting efforts by gnashing their teeth and stamping their feet.  They would have rended their garments asunder (in proper Biblical fashion), if they'd been wearing anything other than bikinis.  Bikinis are manifestly unsuitable for rending.  Anyway...  Oh, the drama!

Finally, Paige decided she'd had enough.  "Stop!" she laughed.  "Unbinding!  Now!  Don't make me start awarding more penalties.  And this time somebody will go in the box!"

The non-Binders scrambled for trauma and bandage scissors and set to work.

Ivy's cable-tie and white tape bonds were severed... and soon she was free, not counting her stretch-wrap and white-tape mummified fists and Microfoam-tape-gagged lips.  Her ebony body glistened with sweat, and if you looked closely (and her Team Chelsea "Rescuers" certainly did look closely), the cable-ties had left behind horizontal marks.  The indentations would fade with time, especially once Aftercare happened, but they were there.

As for Chelsea, once her ankles (and big toes) were free... Alice carefully cut a vertical slit in her little sister's stretch-wrap and clear-tape sheath, up her right side near the post.  Betty pulled the sheath away, and Alice helped Chelsea stagger away from the post.  Now, like Ivy, Chelsea was free, not counting her stretch-wrap and clear-tape-mummified fists and Microfoam-tape-gagged mouth.  Her tan body and arms were flushed from shoulders to just below her knees, and while Ivy had been sweaty, Chelsea's torso and arms were dripping with sweat.  It made sense, as the many layers of her former torso-and-arms bondage were impermeable to moisture.

Alice held her kid sister and Ripley held Ivy while Betty and Sophie went to the materials table and began sorting through the cable-ties.

Paige clearer her throat ("Ahem!"), shook her head, and pointed to the rolls of white Vet-wrap.

"Oh, you're no fun," Sophie groused, smiled and winked, then grabbed a roll of Vet-wrap and padded back to Ripley and their charge.  Ivy was "forced" to fold her arms behind her back and stood defiantly as her forearms were mummified from wrist-to-elbow and elbow-to-wrist.

Ivy heaved a gagged sigh.  She knew what was coming, why she was being re-tied: Aftercare.  The involuntary, post-competition massage and moisturizing of the Bindees was about to commence.  It was horrible... after a fashion.

Back at the table, Betty had placed her hand on a roll of clear T-REX tape and smiled at Paige.

Paige smiled back and shook her head, again.

"But then all her bondage will match!" Betty whined.  "Clear-on-clear!"

Still smiling, Paige shook her head a third time.

"Oh, mannn!" Betty complained in a disappointed whisper, snatched a roll of white Vet-wrap from the table, then returned to Alice and their sweaty captive.

Together, they proceeded to bind Chelsea's wrists together with her hands palm-to-palm (or more precisely, mummified-fist-to-mummified-fist)... then forearm-to-forearm, all the way up to her elbows (which touched).  Overkill?  Yes, but they agreed they liked the way the stringent bondage pulled Chelsea's shoulders back and caused her to thrust out her boobs.  The top strings of her bikini-top were still untied and the jade-green bra-cups were threatening to surrender to gravity (and breast-pressure) and drop, exposing Chelsea's sweaty bazongas to the world.  Besides, Sophie and Ripley had used their entire roll of Vet-wrap to bind Ivy's forearms, so fair was fair.  Anyway, the deed was done.

"Let the Aftercare commence!" Paige decreed, then turned and strolled back towards the mansion, a happy smile curling her lips.

"Hey!" Sophie called after the departing Head Umpire.  "What about points?  Who won?"

"It's a tie!" Paige called back over her right shoulder, "so to speak!"  Then, she entered the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

The competitors were not happy.  Much scowling and harrumphing ensued.

Alice smiled at Chelsea's 99-layer, translucent plastic, former bondage-tube, still half-attached to its post.  It was like the discarded exoskeleton of some giant insect (with boobs) and was very pretty.  That might have won Team Alice at least a style point, but Ivy's vertical-stretch-bondage predicament had been equally nice, so it really had been a tie (in Alice's humble opinion).

A last round of deep and regretful sighs were heaved... then the Bindees were dragged out onto the lawn and ruthlessly moisturized and fondled, in a manner not seen since... well... yesterday, when Alice and Sophie had endured their Aftercare.

That evening at dinner, Paige ordered her Girls to start going easy on the moisturizing.  Otherwise, she was going to have to phone in a delivery from the nearest Body Shop®, which might not have the required stock on hand.  She was joking, of course.

The Girls grinned and promised to go easy on the lotion, but compensate with additional fondling.

Before everybody went to bed, Paige announced that tomorrow would be an official Rest Day.  There would be no bondage practice or any other shenanigans.  Running, yoga, and other forms of nonrestrictive exercise were authorized—in fact, they were expected—but mainly she expected both teams to relax and take it easy.

Alice and Chelsea grinned.

"And the prohibition on bondage practice and other restrictive shenanigans starts now," Paige continued, gazing at the two team captains.

"She knows you too well," Ivy purred, smiling at the now disgruntled Corbyn sisters.

"Another boring evening on St. Ignatius Island," Alice sighed.

"No tying up the house guests and doing horrible things to them," Chelsea huffed.  "How boring is that?"

"Look on the bright side," Betty responded.  "In means the house guests won't be tying up the resident sadists and doing horrible things to them."

Alice and Chelsea exchanged an acknowledging smile.  "There is that," Alice conceded.

The rest of the night went much like the previous evenings, with bedroom doors secured by chairs propped under their doorknobs (just in case), solo tension relief, and deep, restorative slumber.

The next day was, indeed, a day off.  The Girls knew better than to defy Paige and even attempt to indulge in "restrictive shenanigans."  And they all agreed the change of pace was probably a good thing.  Anyway, there was splashing in the pool, nature walks through the undeveloped acres of the island, and sunbathing.  And with respect to basking in the sun, Sophie convinced Ripley that she needed to eliminate her "bikini-lines" and cultivate an all-over tan, like Sophie's increasingly dark, beach-bunny bronze.  (Truth be told, Sophie was tan, but she wasn't that tan.)  Ripley's darkening was to be accomplished in stages, of course, by gradually increasing her exposure and with the careful administration of sunscreen at appropriate intervals.

Sophie volunteered to take responsibility for the sunscreen application, but Ripley refused.  Chelsea and all of Team Alice agreed that this was exceeding rude on Ripley's part and offered to restrain the glowering "Goth" so Sweet Sophie could do her duty, but Paige put her foot down.  No restrained sunscreening today!

Everybody knew the "hostility" between the "Blond Airhead" and "the Goth" was a complete sham and found Sophie and Ripley's interplay to be entertaining (and adorable).  Anyway...

Day Four dawned, another spectacular California coastal day.  Breakfast happened, then the bikini-clad contestants gathered around Paige's board, eager to learn what was going to occupy their efforts.  Paige smiled, flipped back the cover, and...

	St. Ignatius Island Bondage Olympics EVENT #3:  CAPTURE THE BIKINIS
		●  All members of both teams will participate. ●  The Head Umpire will perform all bondage tasks. ●  Materials used will be of the Head Umpire's choosing. ●  The team that removes and accumulates the greatest number of the      opposing team's bikini parts wins the event. ●  Any contestants rendered naked will immediately cease all active     participation and remain in place until the end of the event.   ●  The Head Umpire will explain additional rules and requirements      before the event formally begins.   ●  BONUS POINTS.  There is no provision for BONUS POINTS. ●  PENALTY POINTS.  Skinned knees, scrapes, scratches, bruises, twisted     ankles, black eyes, etc., will result in the awarding of PENALTY POINTS.

Paige gave the Olympians several seconds to read the posted rules, then cleared her throat.  "Ahem.  All Olympians will go to their rooms, don anklets and hiking shoes, then return as quickly as possible.  Dawdlers will be severely penalized."

All members of Teams Alice and Chelsea immediately dispersed, scampering—yes, scampering—to their bedrooms.  They all had questions, of course, but weren't anxious to earn penalty points (or spend time in Paige's box) by causing their team to begin the day's competition with a deficit.  About five minutes later...

Paige's Girls had returned with their feet clad in gray or white anklets and sneaker-style hiking/trail-running shoes and still wearing their team bikinis.  They gathered around the table... and found themselves staring at a large pile of used and new bundles of white paracord, as well as red foam Nerf-balls, Microfoam tape, white Vet-tape, and white T-REX duct-tape.

"All right, then," Paige beamed.  "I want you all to gag yourselves.  Balls in mouths, lips sealed with Microfoam, around-the-head with Vet-tape, then cover the Vet-tape with duct-tape.  I want everything tight, but not too tight, and neat and smooth, with minimal wrinkles and creases.  Sloppiness will be penalized.  And make sure your hair isn't trapped under the tape."

Ripley frowned.  "And how are we supposed to—"

"Cooperate," Paige interrupted.  "Help each other."

Sighs were heaved, eyes were rolled, and the Olympians set to work.

In a surprisingly short time, everyone on St. Ignatius Island who wasn't Head Umpire was thoroughly gagged, as per Paige's specifications.  All six competitors' lower faces were mummified by neat, overlapping layers of white.  Only the T-REX tape was visible, of course.  Paige thought her Girls were very photogenic.  Luckily, the security cameras were recording everything for posterity (and Paige's private viewing).

"Alice, stay," Paige ordered.  "The rest of you, wait under the pergola, hands atop your heads with fingers interlaced.  I'll call you over when it's your turn."

Eyes rolling above bulging cheeks, the Olympians obediently placed their hands atop their heads (with their fingers interlaced), and shuffled towards the pergola.  Alice remained behind.

Paige smiled broadly and set to work.

Several minutes later, when the proverbial dust had settled, Alice was box-tied.  Paige hadn't used quite as many doubled turns of paracord as the Binders had used on Day One when box-tying their respective Bindees, but she didn't skimp on the paracord, either.  Bands of twelve to sixteen strands each pinned Alice's arms to her sides, yoked her shoulders, anchoring the tie above, and encircled her waist, anchoring the tie below.  The white cords were neatly stacked and uniformly tight, dimpling Alice's tan flesh.  They were also tightly cinched between her arms and torso.  The key knots were between Alice's shoulder blades, above the central nexus of the box-tie and totally out of reach.

The only major difference from the usual St. Ignatius Island box-tie was that Alice's wrist-bonds were actually forearm-bonds, and loose forearm-bonds, at that.  Alice's upper-arms were firmly bound to her sides, but her hands and forearms had some freedom of motion, in that they could flop around a little.  That said, Alice was bound and helpless.  Freeing herself was quite obviously an impossible task.  However, bikini-snatching appeared to be entirely within the realm of possibility.

One down and five to go, Paige summoned her next, uh, victim.  "Chelsea!"

Victim followed victim, and when Paige finished binding the last contestant (Ripley), nearly an hour had passed.  Having absolutely no choice in the matter, the Olympians stood in a group and watched "patiently" as the Head Umpire tied the final knot.

"All right, then," Paige said brightly.  "The Team Captains are hereby designated as 'Goalies."  I'll be taking them out onto the playing field and making sure they don't wander off.  When I return, the rest of you will become 'Forwards.'  I'll blow my whistle—"  She reached under her blouse and pulled out a red whistle hanging around her neck on a red lanyard.  "And the game will begin."

The contestants watched as she selected four twenty-four-inch cable-ties and two coils of used paracord (meaning used on Day One), and strolled towards the pergola.

The Olympians blinked above their gags and exchanged puzzled expressions (gagged puzzled expressions).  It was clear they were unclear, meaning the full nature of the event hadn't yet snapped into full focus.  "Goalies?"  "Forwards?"  A pity they couldn't discuss anything.

Paige paused and turned back to the bound, gagged, and bikini-clad contestants.  "Well?" she purred, then resumed her stroll.

Eyes rolled, gagged heads shook, and the Olympians clomped after the Head Umpire.

Once everyone arrived at the pergola, Paige planted Ivy, Betty, Sophie, and Ripley on their bikini-clad butts with their booted feet crossed around the bases of separate posts, and vripped their ankles together with the cable-ties.  They were now sitting on the hard flagstones with their fronts (and boobs) to their respective posts and unable to go anywhere.  They were also unable to come anywhere close to being able to reach each other.

Having made sure all the "Forwards" would be waiting for her when she returned, Paige took the "Goalies" by their arms and led them away, towards the "wilderness" beyond the mansion and its island of semi-manicured grounds.  "Wait here," she called back over her shoulder.  Paige was still smiling, of course, which the bound, gagged, bikini-clad, and tethered Forwards didn't find to be at all irritating.

Once again eyes rolled (including the Goalies, but not the Head Empire) and those remaining behind watched as Paige and their Team Captains disappeared into the interior of the island.

Paige marched Alice and Chelsea to a clearing about a half mile from the edge of the mansion's formal landscaping.

Chelsea watched as her big sister was positioned under a drooping branch of a massive live oak.  Paige tossed one end of a paracord coil over the branch, slid the other end through the nexus of Alice's box-tie bonds, between her shoulder blades, pulled out the slack, and tied a knot.  There was still a lot of cord left, so Paige spun Alice around until they were face-to-face (smiling and thoroughly tape-gagged, respectively), reach behind Alice's neck and untied the top strings of her bikini-top, then pulled the cups down, baring Alice's breasts!

"Mrrrk?" Alice complained.

Paige looped a series of figure-eight cords around the base of the glowering Goalie's breasts.  The loops in question were tight, but not excessively tight (not in Paige's opinion, anyway).  She stretched the remaining cord around Alice's upper-arms and back to the box-tie nexus, then tied a tight, redundant knot.  Finally, she lifted the bikini-top-cups, covering Alice's boobs, once again, and retied the bow at the nape of the Goalie's neck.

The result was Alice tethered in place by a doubled stretch of vertical paracord.  She wasn't going anywhere.  Also, her bulging tits complained if she tried squirming or taking a booted step in any direction.  On the plus side, her top was back in place.  On the minus side, the boob-squeezing cords weren't in the way and it would be much easier for the top to be captured if and when a Team Chelsea Forward came looking for it.

And speaking of Chelsea, Alice's bikini-clad, box-tied, and tape-gagged kid sister was seriously considering making a run for it... but she knew she wouldn't get very far and would probably be penalized for Delay of Game if she tried.

"Wait here until you hear the whistle," Paige instructed Alice.  "Then, be prepared to protect your goal, which in this case is your bikini."  Paige's smile broadened.  "Although, come to think of it, every bikini is a goal, whether it's on a Goalie or a Forward."  She shrugged.  "Oh well."  She then grabbed Chelsea's arm and led her away.

Alice watched them depart.  She knew there was a similar clearing with a similar tall, spreading live oak about a quarter of a mile away and more-or-less equidistant from the mansion and her clearing, and would be an ideal location to tether her little sister.  And if not that clearing... then someplace else.  All Alice could do was stand in her boots, wait for Sophie and/or Ripley to arrive, and defend the honor of Team Alice, meaning her bikini.  Of course, if Ivy and/or Betty showed up first, they could ambush Sophie and/or Ripley.  Or one Forward could stay to help defend her Captain and the other could go looking for the opposing Goalie.  After careful consideration, Alice decided ambush was the best strategy, to go entirely on the defensive, wait for a Team Chelsea Forward to appear, let her get close, then both Team Alice Forwards could pounce!

Unfortunately, Team Alice hadn't been allowed an opportunity to discuss tactics before the game, nor would they be able to strategize if or when her teammates showed up.  The same lack of communication was plaguing Team Chelsea, of course, and it had been stone-cold deliberate on Paige's part.  Alice realized that now.

Minutes passed... followed by more minutes.  Alice could glimpse the Pacific through the trees off to one side.  She knew she was reasonably close to the cliffs surrounding and protecting the island, and the same was true of Chelsea's probable tethering site.  All she could do... and all Chelsea could do as well... was wait for the start of the game.

And then—Finally!—she heard the distant blast of Paige's whistle.  Tweeeeeeet!

The competition had begun!