by Van ©2021
		Chapter 7

Before blowing her pretty red whistle to signal the start of the game, Paige had explained to the Forwards—Ivy, Betty, Sophie, and Ripley, the bikini-clad, box-tied, and stringently tape-gagged members of both teams, all of whom were straining at the proverbial bit—that they were to sally forth into the wilderness and return only when she blew the whistle two more times, bringing with them all the bikini-parts they'd harvested from the opposing team.  At that point, Paige would tally the count and award a point for each top and bottom not properly in place, as well as penalty points for cuts, scrapes, bruises or other signs of overly enthusiastic combat.  This was a bikini hunt, not an uncivilized brawl.  (Bikini hunts are civilized brawls.)

The Forwards gazed at one another, blinked and/or heaved sighs... then nodded in consensus.  No bound and gagged brawling.

Paige smiled (or rather continued smiling).  "One blast starts the game," she reiterated, "and two blasts means it's over."  She readied the whistle for use.  "On three.  One...  Two..."  Tweeeeet!

Sophie and Ripley sprinted for the pair of posts framing the gap in the mansion's landscaping that served as the principal trail head into the interior.  Ivy and Betty jogged after them, frantically signaling each other with fluttering fingers.  Now would have been a really good time for the Team Alice Forwards to spontaneously develop fluency in American Sign Language, but Paige seriously doubted that was happening.  In any case, it was clear the pair had decided to stick together and operate as a team.

That might work, Paige conceded, but if Sophie and Ripley find Alice first, she won't stand a chance.  Anyway, her Starter task accomplished, Paige turned and entered the mansion.  She made her way to her bedroom and changed from her sandals, jeans, Head Umpire black and white vertically striped blouse, bra, and panties... and into her white bikini, white anklets, and Columbia Escape Ascent™ Trail Shoes (in pink, aqua, and black).  Her pretty red whistle remained on its pretty red lanyard around her neck, and a pair of folded sunglasses was now down the front of her bikini-top, between her boobs.

Paige's intent was to take an iPad out under the shade of the pergola, together with an insulated carafe of hot coffee and her favorite mug, and follow the action out on the playing field, as best she could.  Several cleverly camouflaged cameras were situated throughout the "wilderness," allowing more-or-less full coverage of the clearings where she'd stashed Alice and Chelsea.  Unfortunately, there was no behind-the-scenes team of highly trained technicians feverishly editing the feed into a coherent broadcast, so it wouldn't be like watching a football game.  In any case, the action was already continuously streaming to the mansion's bank of security servers, so if Paige ever felt so motivated, she could edit it herself and try and reconstruct the action in full detail.

Just then...  "Bing-bong-biiing!"

Paige blinked in surprise.  The chimes were the signal that someone had punched the correct code into the roadside security kiosk and was opening the gates guarding the bridge onto the island!  Needless to say, no guests or deliveries were expected.  She hurried to the nearest security station, navigated the menu, and watched on the iPad-size screen as a metallic gray luxury SUV (possibly a Cadillac of the CT series) passed through the outer gate, crossed the bridge, passed through the inner gate, then started climbing the driveway up to the mansion.  The gates rolled closed behind it.

Paige hurried to the mansion's front entryway and stood ready to trigger the panic button that would summon the police and double-lock all the doors.  It would also unlock a nearby gun safe, open its well-camouflaged door, and present a Glock 19 handgun, grip first.  She watched through a sidelight window as the SUV pulled up and stopped, the driver's door opened, and a diminutive driver emerged.  Paige's heart skipped a beat and her smile returned.  She quickly hit the override button, returning the security system to its normal "at home" mode, and flung open the front door.

Bernadette Corbyn

"Bernie!" Paige laughed as she stomped forward, pulled the newcomer into a tight bear hug, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around.  "You're here early!"

The newcomer in question was Bernadette Corbyn, Alice and Chelsea's 60-something mother and the tyrannical (loving) matriarch of the Corbyn clan.  "Bernie" was 5' 1" in her bare feet, although at the moment she was wearing a stylish and no doubt hideously expensive pair of driving slippers.  She was also wearing the short, lightweight skirt of a custom-tailored business suit, minus its matching jacket, and a black cotton blouse.  Her gleaming brown tresses were loose about her shoulders, framing her beautiful, smiling face.

Paige continued her hug.  Paige Livingston and Bernadette "Bernie" Corbyn had history.

"You're crushing me!" Bernadette complained.

"Liar," Paige purred.

"Stop!" Bernadette commanded.  "Let go!  I have plans for the rest of the day."

Paige planted a kiss on the top of Bernadette's head, then released her hug and set about gathering the luggage from the SUV.  There wasn't much, only a leather laptop bag, a carry-on duffel, and a garment bag, both from Gucci's Ophidia collection.  "You're more than a week ahead of schedule," Paige noted.  "What gives?"

"I managed to shuffle my calendar and delegated the make-work," Bernadette purred as she shouldered the laptop bag and draped her jacket over the butter-soft leather.  Then, hand-in-hand with Paige, they headed for the mansion.  "Did I come at a bad time?"

"The Girls will be glad to see you," Page purred, "by which I mean all the Girls, not just your darling daughters.  They're busy at the moment, but just wait 'til they learn you're here."

Bernadette's smile turned... sinister?  "About that," she said, giving Paige's hand a squeeze.  "How's your good-cop/bad-cop routine?"

Paige's smile turned coy.  "Uh... reasonable.  Why?"

"I'm tired of being subtle with Alice and Chelsea, so I've come out here early to mix things up."

Still smiling, Paige heaved a sigh.  "This is gonna ruin the rest of the games, isn't it?"

Bernadette grinned.  "Maybe."  They continued strolling through the mansion, heading for the Master Bedroom.  "Probably."

Paige sighed again and shook her head.  "Spoilsport."

It was The Bikini Battle of the Century!

A Scantily-clad Donnybrook of Epic Proportions!

A Fabulous Feminine Fracas Extraordinaire!

Apparently, Ivy and Betty had, indeed, decided to operate as a pair.  It was unclear who was the leader and who was the wing-man (wing-woman), and thanks to their gags, coordinating their actions and achieving true teamwork remained an elusive goal, but they remained together.

The Team Alice Forwards arrived at Alice's Clearing to discover their Team Captain's bikini under attack by Sweet Sophie!  Apparently, the blonde had already succeeded in untying and removing Alice's lavender-purple bikini-bottom, but only at the cost of the bow of her own jade-green bikini-bottom being untied over her right hip, leaving the bottom in question tangled around her left ankle and hiking-shoe.  Alice might be loosely tethered in place, but she had a few inches of height on the diminutive Sophie.  That may have explained her limited success in defending herself.

Currently, Sophie was finding it difficult to jump up and seize the bikini-bow at the nape of Alice's neck, and the Battling Blonde was preoccupied with the task at hand to the point that she almost failed to notice the Team Alice Forwards creeping up behind her and coming to their Team Captain's aid.  She finally caught a flash of lavender-purple from the corner of one eye, turned, her big blue eyes popped wider, and she fled... or tried to flee.  She nearly tripped on her bikini-bottom, which was still tangled around her left foot.  It was tragically slapstick.

Anyway, Sophie stumbled, Ivy and Betty lunged forward, and a new phase of the battle was joined.

When the literal dust settled, Sophie was lying on her side in the dirt, naked (not counting her trail-sneakers and anklets), box-tied, tape-gagged, and very unhappy.  That made the bikini-parts score Team Alice—Two; and Team Chelsea—One; not counting whatever might be happening elsewhere on the playing field.  Sadly, Sweet Sophie's tan, glowing skin was soiled and/or smudged with dirt.  The rules clearly stated that once rendered naked, a player was no longer a player, so Sophie had no choice but to pout, sigh, and resign herself to the ignominy of defeat.  Oh, the drama! 

Meanwhile, at Chelsea's clearing...

Ripley had stumbled across her Team Chelsea Captain and Chelsea and Ripley were busy gazing at each other, trying to decide what to do next.  Strategic planning remained as elusive as ever.

Suddenly,  The Team Alice Forwards appeared at the edge of the clearing!

Chelsea and Ripley stared at Ivy and Betty.

Ivy and Betty stared at Chelsea and Ripley.

It was a classic standoff!  All that was missing was an Ennio Morricone soundtrack.  Oh, the drama!

Clearly, this was going to be the deciding battle of the competition, and by all appearances, Team Alice had the distinct advantage.  Chelsea was tethered in place, which meant the Team Alice Forwards might be able to isolate Ripley and engage the Team Chelsea Forward with a two-to-one advantage.  Then, if triumphant, they'd descend on the Team Chelsea Goalie (Chelsea) for the coup de grâce.

That said, Ripley Deerfield was no pushover.  Ivy and Betty weren't going to strip off her bikini without a fight!  Ripley glowered at her approaching opponents, prepared herself for battle, and—

"Tweeeeet!  Tweeeeet!"

All present blinked in surprise and turned their gagged heads in the direction of the mansion.  It was the signal that the game was over!  But how could the game be over?  It had only been going for... an hour?  Not counting the time required for the preliminary self-gagging and Paige's impressive binding... an hour!  Maybe less!  Certainly not more!   How could the game be over?

Anyway, the only thing to do was for the Forwards to head for the mansion.  The Goalies would have to wait for someone (Paige?) to free them from their tethers, of course.

Had something gone wrong?  Only time (meaning Paige) would tell.

Ivy, Betty, and Ripley turned and trudged in the direction of the mansion.  Sweet Sweaty Sophie picked herself up from the dirt, exchanged a shrug with Alice, then also trudged towards the mansion.  In their respective clearings, Alice and Chelsea heaved disappointed sighs, squirmed in their inescapable bonds, and remained behind.

More than an additional hour later...

Alice was starting to get antsy.  How long did it take to count up bikini parts and untie the Forwards?  And who would the Head Umpire send to rescue her?  Would Paige come herself, or would she send Ivy and Betty, her teammates?  Or would it be Sophie and Ripley, sent not to release her but to begin her Aftercare.  And how was Aftercare going to work for this event?  Everybody on both teams had been bound and gagged, so everybody was in need of at least some degree of "pampering."  Had Paige been kidding when she said they might not have the required moisturizer on hand?  And Paige had already done all the binding.  Was she going to hog all the moisturizing as well?  That was a lot of skin for one person to lubricate and massage.  Was Paige up to it?

Alice heaved a well-gagged sigh... then took a glance at the green canopy overhead.  At least I'm in the shade.

Suddenly (Finally!) Paige entered the clearing... and (not particularly surprisingly) she had Chelsea in tow.  Obviously, the Head Umpire had decided to "rescue" the Team Chelsea Goalie first, which was an additional reason for Alice to pout.

Paige had changed into her white bikini and a very pretty pair of aqua, pink, and black trail-shoes.  No, really, the sneakers were very pretty, and Alice would have said so if she wasn't thoroughly gagged.  Paige's glorious red hair was combed back in a loose ponytail, a messenger-bag of bleached canvas was slung over her right shoulder, and she was leading Chelsea by a length of paracord looped around her neck and tied as a leash.

The Corbyn sisters gazed at one another and heaved simultaneous sighs.  Overall, their bondage predicaments were identical, right down to the paracord loops squeezing their boobs.  The difference was that Alice was still tethered under the shade of her live oak by a doubled, vertical length of cord and Paige had already released Chelsea from her tree.  Also, her kid sister was buck naked and Alice was still wearing her bikini-top... but not for long.

Grinning like a nearly naked and highly photogenic fool who was supremely pleased with herself and undeniably in charge, Paige stepped forward, untied Alice's bikini-top, pulled it free of her box-tied arms and torso, and stuffed it in her bag.  Both sisters were now equally naked.  Next, Paige used a pair of trauma scissors to sever Alice's vertical tether, then used the resulting length of cord to give her a collar and leash identical to her sister's.  Their bonds were now totally identical... almost.

While Alice was being stripped and untethered from her tree branch, but before being leashed, Chelsea had executed a half-turn and Alice noted that her little sister's hands had been reduced to useless flippers!  They were mummified under neat, smooth layers of white duct-tape!  And then, Paige proceeded to mummify/flipperize Alice's hands!

First, the Head Umpire "compelled" Alice to hold said hands still.  Next, she reached into her bag, produced one of the short rolls of plastic stretch-wrap with a plastic applicator-wand, and took a half-dozen turns around each hand.  This was followed by several taut, neat turns of white T-REX duct-tape, completely covering the stretch-wrap.  Alice didn't bother trying to impede the process, just as Chelsea didn't bother trying to sneak away and "escape," even though at the moment her leash wasn't in Paige's hand.

The sisters now matched completely, right down to their lack of bikinis, box-ties, cord-constricted boobs, tape-gags, mummy-flippers, tousled hair, and paracord collars and leashes.  Paige smiled, grabbed the ends of both leashes, gave the leashes a tug (unnecessarily and callously, which wasn't at all irritating), then the Goalies and Head Umpire stepped off in the direction of the mansion.

In their wake, the clearing was exactly as it had been before Paige arrived and tethered Alice in place at start of the game.  Scuff-marks in the dirt where the only sign that The Great Bikini Battle of the Team Alice Oak had ever been waged.

Alice frowned as she trudged next to her sister.  She was surer than ever that something strange was going on, meaning something stranger than the annual Bondage Olympics.  All of that elaborate preparation... and Paige called the game before it had hardly begun?  Alice had expected to remain tethered in her clearing for most of the day... or at least until well after lunch... a lunch she would have missed, of course.  One hour, or less, of actual competition... and then it was over?  Why?

If past was prologue, at some point in the multi-day competition, a day would dawn when Paige would announce that it was time for her to have some fun for a change (meaning some real fun), that it was her turn to mess with the Olympians.  And Paige tying everybody up for today's event didn't count.  But... this early in the competition?  Day four?  Event Number Three?  She usually had the common decency to cancel one of the final events so she could indulge herself.

No, something was up.  Alice turned and stared at Chelsea and Chelsea stared back.  Chelsea's gag was making it difficult for Alice to read her sister's expression, but Alice decided the runt was as confused as she was.

Well, whatever was going on, Alice would be prepared.  Alice was always prepared.  Nothing fazed Alice Corbyn.  No sirree!  She might be momentarily surprised, but she'd instantly adapt.  After all, she was the senior sister!

The mansion's gables and roof came into view through the trees... they approached the twin posts marking the trail head... passed between, onto the lawn, and the mansion was now in full view, including the outbuildings, pool, the vine-draped pergola, the mansion's main deck... and—

Alice and Chelsea froze in their tracks, their eyes wide above their gags.  Paige must have been prepared for their reactions, because her smile never wavered and she'd stopped as well, allowing their leashes to go slack.

Under the shade of the pergola, sitting queen-like on the comfortable cushions of a comfortable deck chair, was—

MOTHER!

Bernadette was wearing a black bikini, a generous layer of tanning lotion, and nothing else, not counting a tasteful, understated necklace and a few rings (including a toe ring).  A broad, mischievous smile curled her lips, her gleaming brown tresses were loose about her gorgeous face, and she was taking delicate sips through the long, thin straw of a no doubt potent and refreshing smoothie-type rum drink (with fruit garnish) in a moisture beaded tumbler.  Slurp!

Out on the lawn, arrayed in the sun at their mother dainty bare feet, were the remaining members of Teams Alice and Chelsea.  They were all naked, bound, and gagged, of course.  Specifically, from the waist up, their gags and box-ties from the Great Bikini Battle were intact, but their hands had now mummified with white T-REX tape, like the two Goalies.  Also, their legs were bound together at their mid-thighs, above and below their knees, their shins and calves, and their ankles, feet, and big toes!  Their shoes, anklets, and socks were off their feet and in a disorderly pile off to one side, next to a pile of lavender-purple and jade-green bikini parts.

"My darling daughters!" Bernadette gushed.  She stood—paused to take a fortifying sip from her drink—Slurp!—then carefully set it down on a nearby table and padded forward.

Meanwhile, Paige led the daughters in question across the lawn, towards the other naked, bound, and gagged youngsters, then stood patiently (smiling, of course) as Bernadette gave each of her daughters a warm hug and a firm, wet kiss on their slightly sweaty foreheads.  First was Chelsea—"Mwah!"  And then Alice—"Mwah!"

Bernadette then returned to her chair, retrieved her drink, and watched as Paige "helped" her beloved offspring settle down onto the grass, removed their hiking-shoes and anklets, and tossed them on the appropriate pile.  She then pulled paracord from her canvas bag and quickly and methodically bound the sisters' legs from thighs to big toes, in an identical manner to their teammates.  Finally, she reached back into the bag, pulled out the remaining bikini parts, added them to their appropriate pile... then shrugged the bag's strap off her shoulder and dropped it on the lawn.

Bernadette smiled at her old friend as Paige sat on the flagstones with her legs folded to the side and next to her chair.  She offered Paige a sip from her drink... Paige shook her head... planted a kiss on Paige's smiling lips... then returned the straw to her mouth, smiled at their naked, bound, and gagged audience out on the lawn, and sucked.  Slurp—slurp—slurp!

Team Alice and Team Chelsea stared up at Bernadette.  It was obvious who was in charge.  Still smiling, Paige rested the side of her face on Bernadette's lap, and it was manifestly obvious who was in charge.  Bernadette Corbyn was Queen of St. Ignatius Island, and Paige was her devoted minion.

Daughters and house-guests, the captives squirmed for comfort out on the lawn and under the hot sun and glared at Bernadette and Paige.  This was a hideous betrayal on the part of the Head Umpire.  Today's game was ruined!  And as for Bernadette... of course the tiny Corbyn cutie was Queen, but why did she have to rain on their parade?  Couldn't she just... observe... regally?  Couldn't she at least wait until the bikini parts were tallied and points awarded, then join the fun by lording it over everybody who wasn't named Paige?

The naked, bound, and gagged Olympians weren't only hot and bothered about Her Majesty's unexpected appearance and unwarranted intervention, but were hot and bothered in general.  The sun really was hot, and they were all sweaty from the truncated battle.  Also, Sweet Sophie remained a dirty girl, thanks to her wallowing in defeat in the dust of Alice's Clearing.

Bernadette leaned close and whispered in Paige's ear... then planted a kiss on the ear in question, sat up straight, smiled at the prisoners, and recaptured her drink's straw with her smiling lips.  Slurp!

The sweaty and overheated captives watched as Paige climbed to her feet, strolled to the side of the mansion, and began pulling a green plastic garden hose from a reel attached to the side of the building.  She then screwed a pistol-grip-style nozzle onto the end of the hose... then turned on the faucet.  The hose flopped and rolled as it filled with pressurized water.

The captives fought their bonds and mewled through their gags.  "Mrrrpfh!"  Paige's intentions were obvious, as well as totally unacceptable!  There was no way they were going to just lie on the grass and let Paige—"MRRRF!"

Paige had triggered the nozzle and was showering the captives with cold water!  The water repeatedly sputtered as air was purged from the hose... then became a steady downpour.

"MRRRF!"  The deluge continued until the prisoners were completely soaked, including their hair!  It was outrageous!  They wiggled, squirmed, fought their bonds, kicked, and continued making their feelings known.  "MRRRF!"

Sweet Sophie received special attention, the poor thing.  But then, she was the dirtiest of the group, by far.  Smiling sweetly, Paige had dialed the nozzle's rotary head to narrow stream and was playing it up and down Sophie's flushed, wet, and increasingly not soiled body.

"MRRRF!"

Wet and bedraggled, their hair in sopping tangles and draped across their gagged faces, the helpless Olympians watched as Paige returned to the hose reel, turned off the faucet, triggered the nozzle to drain the hose, returned the hose to the reel, then strolled back in their direction, smiling sweetly.

They continued watching (glaring) as Paige lifted Sophie onto her right shoulder in a fireman's carry, then carried the wet blonde away, around the side of the mansion.  The remaining captives shifted their attention to Her Diminutive Majesty, shook the hair from their gagged faces as best they could, and stared daggers.

Queen Bernadette smiled regally and continued sipping her drink.  Slurp!

About a minute later, Paige returned without Sophie.  She then lifted Ripley onto her shoulder and strolled away, again.

"Mrrrk!" Alice demanded.  Obviously, she wanted to know where Traitorous Paige was taking their friends.

"You'll find out," Bernadette purred.  Slurp!

Alice did find out, but she was the last to find out.  Paige carried away Betty... Ivy... Chelsea... and then it was her turn.  Draped over Paige's shoulder, she glared at her mother through the curtain of her still wet hair.  Bernadette appeared to have finished her drink and was nibbling on the fruit garnish.

Alice was scandalized!  Mother!  How gauche!  It was bad form to eat a drink garnish.  Everybody knew that.  Mother must have missed breakfast.

Then, they rounded the corner... Paige continued carrying her disgruntled burden... and eventually Alice realized their obvious destination and would have none of it!  "Mrrrf!"  She wiggled and squirmed and did her absolute best to convince Paige to ease her off her shoulder, untie her, and see reason.  "Mrmpfhr"—Whack!—"Mfh!"  All of which earned her a resounding slap on her left butt cheek!

"Stop that, young lady," Paige scolded.

Alice could hear the smile curling Paige's lips, even thought she couldn't see it.  It was somewhat infuriating.

The destination in question was an open bulkhead door that led to the mansion's expansive and rather disorderly basement.  It was a large space, nearly the full footprint of the house, and was subdivided into a veritable warren of small storerooms, as well as the laundry room, various utility rooms, and a single large storeroom.

With a growing sense of dread, Alice revised her suspicions as the journey continued until she knew exactly where she was being taken, and it didn't improve her mood.  The Dungeon!  She's taking me to The Dungeon!

One summer, when the runt was still in high school and Alice had just finished her sophomore year at Lewis & Clark, the sisters had a Brilliant Idea!  They would clean out one of the basement storerooms and turn it into a Medieval Dungeon!

Alice told the junior clerk at the local hardware store (one of Chelsea's classmates) than they wanted to convert a ten-by-ten foot storeroom to an authentic wine cellar, and they wanted to do it themselves.  With his "expert" advice and recommendations, they faced the walls with tumbled landscaping blocks that looked like stone, cementing them together with builder's adhesive and anchoring them with specialized steel bolts screwed into the studs.  They also filled the tiny void between the blocks and wall with expanding foam for added strength (and soundproofing).  Then, they covered the ceiling with aged "barn wood" boards and covered the poured concrete floor with a veneer of fake stone flags.  Next, they replaced the door with a rustic/medieval-looking wooden door of thick planks, doubled the number of hinges, and replaced all the hinge-screws with extra-long versions for added strength.  Finally, they added heavy, "hand-forged," vertical throw-bolts at the top and bottom, and a matching extra-heavy-duty horizontal bolt with an large, antique, fully functional padlock and, voila!  They had themselves a dungeon!

They tried talking Paige into outfitting their new playroom with "authentic dungeon chains," meaning a collar, manacles, belt, and shackles, all interconnected and bolted to the wall, but she told them they'd have to pay for it themselves, out of their clothing budgets.  Buying building materials from the estate's maintenance fund was one thing, but she wasn't going to get into an unnecessary argument with their mother's accountants over kinky hardware purchases.  The girls took that as a maybe and put a full chain set on their wish list, but had never gotten around to acting on it.

Anyway, both sisters tested the dungeon on an irregular basis (with the runt going first, of course), and Alice very much suspected she was about to test it again!  She was right.

They came to the door in question, the out-of-place timber portal with the heavy iron hardware.  Paige drew the horizontal bolt—"Thunk!"—and pulled it open.

The storeroom had only been 10'x10' to begin with, so cladding the walls with fake stone had made The Dungeon even smaller, something like 9'x9'.  And now, the space was cluttered with naked, bound, and gagged damsels—five naked, bound, and gagged damsels, to be precise.  There wasn't really room for a sixth, but Paige made do.  She eased Alice off her shoulder and down onto the fake stone floor and the other damsels squirmed and made room.  Truth be told, the dungeon wasn't all that cramped, but its occupants complained anyway.

"Mrrmpfh!"  "Nrfm!"  "Mrrrkmf!"  Etc., etc.

"Oh, hush," Paige chuckled.  "You girls wait here and enjoy yourselves.  I'll be back... eventually."

And with that, she crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her.  The horizontal bolt slammed home—"Thunk!"—followed by the two vertical bolts—"Thunk!  Thunk!"—and the despicable deed was done!

Oh by the way, The Dungeon was dark, as in totally dark, as in there wasn't any light!  The poor damsels could see nothing!  (Like chains, dungeon lighting was another thing the Corbyn sisters had never gotten around to installing.)  Much squirming and struggling ensued... even though there was no one to watch the show.  They couldn't even watch each other.

So... the Evil Queen had arrived, totally disrupted the court schedule, then ordered her Senechal to incarcerate both princesses and all their ladies in waiting in her deepest, darkest, dankest dungeon!

Oh, the drama!