by Van ©2019

Chapter 8



So... sequestered in The Mansion's second story exercise room, naked, ball-gagged, my arms raised, elbows bent back over a trapeze bar, and my wrists crossed and lashed behind my head, then bound in that position by a neat, tight lattice of conditioned hemp rope from my ankles to my shoulders (including a body-harness and knotted crotch-rope), and up on tippy-toe!

Fun with rope.  Hilarity with Hemp.  The Wonderful World of Bondage.  Yippee!

No doubt about it, things at The Mansion were getting out of control!

This was Alice Through the Looking Glass!  (Or more precisely, Annie Through the Looking Glass.)  A little earlier, Logan had asked if I was done having fun yet, referring to the ongoing "weekend party" being hosted by Kelly and Gabby, and since I was ball-gagged at the time (and all the way through to the present), I hadn't been able to answer; however, I had acquiesced, even cooperated in the process of being placed in my current predicament.

Which raises an interesting side-issue:

Was my current predicament an actual predicament?  Was this "predicament bondage?"  Was dangling from a padded trapeze-bar and being forced to support my weight with my toes on a padded floor serious enough to be categorized as a bona fide predicament?  I could relax my feet and hang by the bar without any great discomfort... for now.  Also, standing on my toes on the semi-bouncy floor wasn't a big deal... for now.  Logan hadn't placed me in an actual stress position.  It was more like a mean position.  Also, there were no nipple clamps, cruelly applied clothespins, and/or electrical shock pads.  Also, I wasn't straddling a Sybian or a wooden horse.  Also, I wasn't bound in some absurd pretzel-posture normally associated with a contortionist circus act.  I was just... standing there.

So, was it predicament bondage?  As far as I was concerned... no... not really.  I recognized that the jury was still out.

Anyway, was I done?  Was I hanging out in the exercise room feeling naked, bound, gagged, and sorry for myself?

Strangely enough... no... not really.  Naked, bound, and gagged?  Yes.  Sorry for myself?  No.

How often do you meet nice, interesting people like Kelly and Gabby?  How often do you get to see one of your new friends tie up your best friend, then later get to watch the aforementioned best friend bind and gag the other new friend?  Not very often, right?  Had I reached my limit?  Not so much.

So... sequestered in the exercise room.

Time passed... as it often does... and I remained sequestered.

An hour?  Possibly.

More time passed... and a possible hour became at least an hour.

And then, I noticed movement out in the backyard through the widow-wall.

A figure had stepped out onto the near edge of The Mansion's expansive lawn, below my windows.  The figure in question was... Gabby?  The distance was pretty great, but Kelly was busy on that treadmill trudging on the slopes of Digital Mountain down in a concrete cell down on the S1 level, right?  So it must have been Gabby.  It was one of The Sisters, that was for sure.

In any case (and speaking of figures), she (whichever sister she was) was wearing a string bikini, sunglasses, her brown hair was tied up in a tight bun, and a rolled towel was tucked under her right arm.  I watched as she padded further out onto the lawn, unrolled and spread the towel on the green grass, then sat on it and began applying lotion to her already tan, fit, and very feminine body.  The towel was a Native American blanket pattern beach towel, probably from the Pendleton catalog.  The bikini was rose-pink.

Sunbathing?  Really?  With me up here in the exercise room dangling from this stupid trapeze like a fish on the line?  How rude!

And then... another Gabby stepped into view!  She was also wearing a bikini (powder-blue) and sunglasses, with her hair also up in a bun and a towel under her arm!  I watched in amazement as Gabby #2 deployed her Pendleton towel (which was the same pattern but a different mix of colors) next to Gabby #1, then sat and began slathering lotion on her nearly naked, already tan, fit, and very feminine body!  And then Gabby #1 and Gabby #2 began applying lotion to each other!

Gabby #2 had to be Kelly, of course, but at this distance they really could be identical twins, especially since they were wearing sunglasses.  Either that or there was a third sister lurking in the shadows and they were pranking me the way Kelly and Gabby had said they enjoyed pranking their lesser friends and business acquaintances by pretending that there was only one sister living in The Mansion.

And then... a third bikini-wearing figure sauntered into view, swinging her hips, but she wasn't Gabby #3!  She was Logan #1!

Logan's bikini was jade-green, and instead of a towel she was carrying a tray with an insulated carafe and a pair of tall glasses filled with ice and garnished with lime slices.  Also, she was wet, meaning she was dripping with water.  And that included the no longer ginger but now water-darkened auburn tangle of hair trailing down her back.  Obviously, either The Mansion had a swimming pool and Logan-the-Red had just taken a dip, or for some reason my bungalow-mate had decided to drench herself with the garden hose.  The Mansion being The Mansion, my money was on there being a pool... maybe more than one.

I continued watching as Kelly, Gabby, and Logan smiled, chatted, laughed, and had themselves a grand ol' time while Logan set the tray on the grass between The Sisters' towels, poured a clear liquid from the carafe into the glasses, then handed them to her employers.  They continued smiling, chatting, and laughing as The Sisters clinked glasses, took sips, then set their glasses back down on the tray, lay back on their pretty towels, and basked in the sun.  Logan made some no doubt exceedingly clever and/or witty remark, The Sisters laughed, and Logan strolled away in the direction from which she'd come, no doubt returning to the unseen and previously unsuspected swimming pool to continue her refreshing dip.

Okay, now I was feeling sorry for myself—naked, bound, gagged, dangling in my tight, cozy ropes, and up on my tippy-toes—and feeling sorry for myself.

Poor Annie.  Poor helpless, naked, bound and gagged Annie.  I watched The Sisters continue basking... and I languished and felt very sorry for myself.

Several long, tragically sad minutes passed.

I watched Kelly roll onto her stomach (and boobs), reach behind her back and neck and undo the strings of her powder-blue bikini-top, then continue basking.  (I think it was Kelly.  In any case, it was The Sister in the powder-blue bikini.)  She'd undone the strings to prevent leaving tan-lines on her back and shoulders, of course.

Meanwhile, Gabby continued basking on her back, but she had removed her sunglasses.  It was so she wouldn't develop acute raccoon-face, of course.

Minutes passed.

Logan was nowhere to be seen.

And then, The Sisters exchanged a few words, Kelly sat up, and retied the strings of her bikini-top.  Next, she stood, rolled up her towel, and strolled out of sight.

Gabby continued basking.

More minutes passed.

Suddenly—"Mrrrk?"—the double doors of my the exercise room prison were unlocked—Click!—swung open, and Kelly crossed the threshold and strolled in my direction.  She was still resplendent in her powder-blue bikini with her hair up in a bun, but now her sunglasses were atop her head with the earpieces tucked in her hair.  A warm smile curled her lips, her blue eyes sparkled, and she was beautiful.   Also, she smelled like cocoa-butter.

So... I could tell The Sisters apart at a distance.  Either that or I'd guessed correctly.  (I had a fifty-fifty chance.)  Anyway...

"Oh, look at what Logan has done to you," Kelly sighed, shaking her head.  It was then that I noticed the black neoprene and nylon webbing, uh, thing in her right hand.  "Let me take care of you."  And then, over course of the next few minutes, she did just that.

Specifically, Kelly lowered the trapeze-bar until I was down off my toes
Yes!untied my hemp bonds, left the ball-gag in my mouth intact, and replaced my hemp wrist-bonds with the aforementioned "thing."  The thing in question turned out to be a pair of 3"-wide joined wrist-cuffs of neoprene rubber reinforced with a strip of nylon webbing.  It secured by means of a single black plastic snap-buckle.

That left me naked, ball-gagged, and with my hands behind my back, palm-to-palm, with my wrists pressed together.  Oh-by-the-way, she'd done all this in a manner that would have left me at a distinct disadvantage if I'd decided to resist.  She untied just enough of Logan's trapeze-bar/upper-arm/body-harness rope bonds so I remained tethered to the bar but she could still pull my arms down and secure my wrists.  Only after the rubber was snugged around my wrists and the buckle snapped shut did she untie the rest of the harness and my other bonds, including the knotted crotch-rope.

So... naked, ball-gagged, rubber-wrist-cuffed, and with my hair still restrained in a loose Sweet Gwendoline ponytail secured by the same periwinkle-blue ribbon (with bouncy bow), I stood there and blinked at my smiling, approximately 95% naked... rescuer?  What next?

What came next was Kelly gushing "So very adorable," then gently taking hold of my left upper-arm and leading me from the exercise room.  Again with "the A-word."

We padded down the hallway, made a turn, descended a set of stairs to the first floor, then continued through the house to what I could only call a combination greenhouse and indoor swimming pool, the kind of place some people call a "natatorium."  (That sounds right.  The Mansion would have a "natatorium.")

The natatorium included:
  1. Several palms and bushy tropical evergreen bushes in big pots;
  2. Ferns, bromeliads, and orchids in hanging baskets or in pots resting on wrought iron stands and tables;
  3. A naturalistic swimming pool with flagstone edges, sort of a cross between a traditional lap pool and a long, narrow pond;
  4. A wrought iron cafe table with four wrought iron cafe chairs (with cushions);
  5. A couple of wrought iron lounge chairs (with cushions);
  6. A hot tub, also naturalistic with flagstone edges, and big enough to hold about six friendly people.
Reddish-brown Mexican tile was underfoot, and the general ambiance was more Art Nouveau than Arts & Crafts.  All the wrought iron was twisty and... botanical.

Oh-by-the-way, Gabby was simmering in the hot tub and Logan was swimming laps in the pool.  Both were still wearing their rose-pink and jade-green bikinis, respectively.

"There she is!" Gabby gushed as her big sister dragged me kicking and mewling (meaning padding regally and quietly) towards the hot tub.  "Isn't she adorable?"

I give up!  I just... give up!  They can call me anything they want, but didn't they realize how hateful it was to keep labeling me with "the A-word?"  I rolled my eyes as Kelly led me to the edge of the hot tub and helped me descend a set of built-in steps into the warm (make that hot!), bubbling, and chlorinated water.  The chlorine odor wasn't all that strong, but it was strong enough to compete with the humid, earthy smell of the plants and soil and The Sisters' cocoa-butter tanning lotion.

Soon, I was sitting on the tub's built-in bench, snuggled between my bikini-clad hostesses/handlers, naked, ball-gagged, and immersed in churning, 100-something degree water, up to my nipples (and a little above).

Gabby reached behind my head, removed my periwinkle-blue Sweet Gwendoline hair ribbon, rolled it up, and tossed it as far as she could.  It landed on the seat of one of the lounge chairs.  Then, while Gabby held my hair out of the way, Kelly unbuckled my ball-gag and re-buckled the strap on its first hole.  Gabby released my hair, gently plucked the baby-blue ball from my mouth and let it drop to my chest, then planted a warm, welcoming kiss on my lips.  Kelly also gave me a kiss... which gave Gabby enough time to lean to the side and lift a tall glass full of ice (with lime garnish) and some clear beverage.

I recognized the tray, as well as the carafe and second, identical glass, which I'd watched Logan carry to The Sisters' backyard sunbathing expedition from my trapeze-perch up in the exercise room.  And now that I noticed, the expedition's Pendleton spa towels were also present, draped across the back of the other lounge chair.

I worked my jaw and licked my lips... then graciously accepted a sip from the glass when Gabby held it to my lips.  It was a Gin & Tonic... I think.  I'm not a big cocktail drinker, just like I'm not a big wine drinker (as I mentioned earlier).  Anyway, whatever it was, it was potent and delicious!  Yum!

"How are you feeling, Annie?" Kelly inquired.  She was snuggling up against my right side with her left arm draped across my shoulders.  Gabby was on my left, equally close.

I leaned forward and took another sip of the G&T before answering.  "Hot and wet."

The Sisters laughed as Gabby retrieved the second G&T and handed it to Kelly.  (The glasses were acrylic, by the way.  My lips could tell.)

"So very brave," Gabby purred.

"She is," Kelly agreed.  Then squeezed my shoulders.

Gabby gave me another kiss, then both sisters took sips from their respective glasses.

We relaxed in the hot, churning, bubbling water.  I was the naked, mortified (and slightly aroused) filling in a Sisters sandwich.  It was... remarkable.

"Aren't you overheated?" Kelly inquired.  She was speaking to her little sister.  "You've been cooking in this thing since before I left to fetch Annie."

"A little," Gabby sighed, planted another kiss on my face, then stood and sloshed her way up the hot tub steps.  I watched the water drip from her tan, fit, bikini-clad, glistening body as she departed the hot tub.  That was also remarkable.

Kelly and I watched Gabby stroll to the lounge chairs, dry herself with her towel, then continue on to the pool.

"Hey Red!" Gabby shouted.

Logan swam to Gabby, rested her crossed arms on the pool's stone edge, and smiled up at her junior employer.  "Hey, yourself."

"Up you come," Gabby said, then reached down, took one of Logan's hands, and helped her vault from the pool.

"You want me to start dinner?" Logan asked as Gabby started drying her body.

"Something like that," Gabby purred, then began drying Logan's hair.

Logan smiled at me as her junior employer dried her tousled mass of red curls.  "How ya doin', Kitten?" she called.

"Curl up and die!" I suggested.

Logan smiled, The Sisters laughed, then Kelly held the drink to my lips, again.

Meanwhile, Gabby had finished drying Logan's hair and the rest of her, the pair departed the natatorium/greenhouse, hand-in-hand, and Kelly had me all to herself.

 Chapter 8

Kelly and I remained in the hot tub for several minutes, about the length of time Gabby must have been simmering before we arrived.  That's only a guesstimate, of course.

I wasn't gagged, so Kelly and I were able to make small talk, and we did, and the small talk continued when Kelly decided we were sufficiently parboiled.  Then, she extricated me from the tub and used her towel to dry us both.  My hair was mostly dry and Kelly's hair was completely dry as it was still up in its bun.  Anyway, when she was finished running the thirsty terrycloth over both our bodies and had draped the towel over the back of the lounge chair, we were dry.  I was naked, wearing only rubber-wrist-cuffs and a ball-gag-necklace and Kelly was bikini-clad with her hair up in its aforementioned bun.

Kelly then led me through The Mansion to the kitchen, positioned me by a chair, and motioned for me to sit.  I did so, and we continued chatting as I watched her pull a plastic bag full of miscellaneous chicken pieces from the refrigerator.  The pieces were sloshing in a marinade of some sort, oil and spices and... stuff, and she opened the bag and used a pair of tongs to carefully arrange the pieces in a rectangular glass baking dish.

At that point Gabby joined us.  She was also still bikini-clad with her hair in a bun.

Logan was conspicuous by her absence.

"Where's Red?" I inquired as Gabby leaned against the center island and watched her 95% naked sister fuss with the marinated chicken pieces.  She smiled at me and shrugged, then joined the ongoing conversation.

So...  Small talk.  What did we talk about?  Bondage techniques, diabolical predicaments, insidious accessories, and methods of making life, uh, interesting for naked, helpless damsels, right?


We talked about movies, TV, books, music, and just about everything but our mutually shared "hobby."  When I think back on it, I suppose The Sisters were letting me decompress, letting me settle into a pleasant buzz of nakedness, rubber-wrist-cuff-bondage, and getting to know each other better.

Anyway... dinner was a leisurely affair, including the rest of the preparation, the consumption, and the cleanup afterwards.  Oven-roasted chicken, mixed salad, fresh-baked bread, and white wine.  And it was a very tasty white wine.  I remembered to ask The Sisters about the rosé I'd drunk (guzzled) yesterday, and learned that it was almost certainly not available in refrigerator boxes.  Oh well.

All good things come to an end, and so do chicken dinners being fed to you by bikini-clad, beautiful, 40-something women.  (That marinade was yummy, by the way, and it's available in supermarkets!  Gabby promised to e-mail me the details.)  I started digesting the meal while Kelly and Gabby finished the cleanup.  I offered to help, of course, being a gracious guest.  The Sisters exchanged smiles, then formally declined the offer.

"Nice try, Annie," Gabby chuckled.

"I'm afraid you're just too cute, sitting there naked with your hands bound behind your back," Kelly explained.

I clandestinely accepted the compliment (who doesn't like being called "too cute?"), but affected a tragic pout.  "It was worth a try."

The kitchen rendered spic and span, our next stop was the guest bathroom.

Once there, Kelly and Gabby ran me through my nighttime routine by brushing my teeth, scrubbing my face, and waiting patiently while I somehow found the courage and fortitude to empty my bladder while a pair of grinning, 40-something, bikini-clad beauties waited.  It was kinda crowded in there with the three of us, but somehow we managed.  More correctly, they managed.  I didn't manage, I was managed.

Our next stop—and I surmised it was the final stop of the evening—was an expansive bedroom.  (I learned later it was Kelly's bedroom.)  The decor was, of course, Arts & Crafts, and the bed was gigantic, with four heavy posts, a canopy, and a very pretty comforter in a floral pattern.

Also... waiting in center of the room and facing the bed was a BIG SURPRISE!

 Chapter 8

The SURPRISE in question was comprised of the following elements:
  1. Logan (sans bikini or any other clothing);
  2. A heavy wooden straight-back chair (in the Arts & Crafts style);
  3. Several yards of conditioned hemp rope;
  4. The stainless steel obedience collar I'd seen Kelly wear earlier down on the S2 and S1 levels;
  5. Some sort of ball-gag;
  6. A single wide strip of Elastoplast medical tape.
That's right, Logan was naked, chair-tied, and gagged!  Her hair was pulled back and tied with what I'm pretty sure was the same periwinkle-blue hair ribbon from the Sweet Gwendoline costume I'd worn earlier.

As for the rigging details...

Logan's wrists, forearms, and upper arms were lashed to the outside rails of the chair-back by neat, wide bands of cinched rope.  More rope yoked her shoulders and horizontal cinched bands lashed her torso to the chair-back, passing above and below her breasts and around her waist.  More rope lashed her ankles and lower thighs to the chair's legs and seat, leaving her sitting in the chair in a very unladylike pose.  That's right!  Her red pubic bush and pussy were on full display!  Finally, a band of taut hemp crossed her upper thighs and passed under the chair-seat.  All the ropes were tight enough to dimple her flesh, just a little, and there were no knots (key or otherwise) anywhere near her fingers and hands.

As for the gag, the rubber ball of the ball-gag (I assume it was rubber) was crammed in her mouth and its strap buckled at the nape of her neck under her ponytail and the big bouncy periwinkle-blue bow of the hair ribbon.  However, since most of her lower face was covered by the taut strip of Elastoplast, I couldn't really gauge the ball-gag's... gauge?  Do ball-gags have gauges?  What I mean is, I couldn't tell if the diameter of the mouth-plug was 1½" or 1¾", but I'm pretty sure it wasn't 2".  And I really liked the way the Elastoplast let me appreciate the three-dimensional shape of Logan's lips and the curve of the protruding ball.

And then there was also the steel obedience-collar-choker, ready to zap her if she even tried to mewl through the ball and tape (supposedly).

So, yes, Logan was gagged.

I padded forward and made a slow circuit of Logan and the chair.  She turned her head and watched me check out her naked body, the chair, the ropes, and her gag(s).  Her expression was surprisingly neutral.  I suspect that in her place I would have been glowering, staring daggers, bristling with Righteous Outrage, etc., but all Logan did was return my gaze when our eyes met (and I wasn't busy ogling her rope-framed and slightly squeezed boobs).

Anyway, I was impressed.  Gabby (I assume it was Gabby) had done a masterful (mistressful?) job of binding my best friend and bungalow-mate to the chair.  Logan was utterly helpless and very well gagged.  She wouldn't be uttering anything.

"Good job," I said in a near whisper as Logan and I locked eyes.

"Excuse me?" Kelly purred.

"I said good job," I replied in a louder voice, then turned and focused on The Sisters... and my eyes popped wide.  "Oh!"

While I'd been busy checking out Logan, The Sisters had padded to the bed and removed their bikinis.  That's right, Kelly and Gabby were no longer 95% naked, but 100% naked!  They'd also taken down their hair, leaving a modest pile of bobby pins on each of the bed's two nightstands.  Gabby pulled down the comforter, light blanket, and top sheet while Kelly padded to my side, draped an arm across my shoulders, and led me to the bed.

I looked back at Logan over my shoulder, confirming that my best friend was still there (which she was).  My eyes were still wide, but Logan's gagged expression was still, uh, expressionless.

"W-what are we gonna... Oh...  Oh!"  Gabby had climbed into bed and scooted over to the far side, and now was reaching out and helping her big sister "encourage" me to also slide between the cool, smooth, zillion-thread-count cotton sheets.

I fought like the proverbial angry tigress!  Actually, I squirmed like a reluctant kitten.  The Sisters succeeded in making me the filling in yet another Gabby/Kelly sandwich, and without great difficulty.  "Nooo!" I whined.

My heart was pounding and I was blushing and blinking.  I don't know what I thought was gonna happen once I realized I'd been taken to a gigantic bedroom with a gigantic bed by The Sisters, but for some reason, I was flustered.  Maybe my mental/emotional train had been derailed by the sudden appearance of a naked, chair-tied, double-gagged, and obedience-collared Logan, but now I was flustered.  Really flustered.  Also, now that we were in bed, The Sisters' hands were gliding over my naked, rubber-wrist-cuffed body, and their bodies were intimately close!

Hands!  Hands!

I decided to communicate a negative reaction and register a reasonable request for all erotic activities to cease and desist forthwith, but was prevented from doing so by the sudden arrival of Kelly's lips and tongue!


"Hush," Gabby purred.  Her sister was still probing my tonsils with her tongue.  Yes, I was being kiss-gagged!  (Is "kiss-gag" a thing?)  Anyway...

The Sisters continued fondling my boobs, licking and kissing various parts of my upper anatomy, bumping and sliding their hips against my hips, and using their feet, legs, and thighs to keep my feet, legs, and thighs under control.

I struggled and fought, but I was bound and helpless, right?  The only thing I could do was meet kiss with counter-kiss, lick with counter-lick, and squirm with counter-squirm.  Unfortunately, with my hands behind my back, I couldn't counter-fondle, but it wasn't from lack of trying.  Seriously, I tried to counter-fondle!  My fingers awkwardly fluttered and groped!  I had the honor of naked damsels everywhere to uphold!

At some point, The Sisters had moved from making out and breast fondling to inner thigh and labia massaging and teasing!  I was outraged!  I redoubled my counter-kissing, licking, and squirming!  I was horny as hell!  Then, The Sisters redoubled their efforts to have their wicked way(s) with my helpless body!

Unfortunately, I lost (and won) the First Battle of the Bed.  That is... I quivered in orgasm for a modest eternity... cumming like the proverbial bunny!

I ask you.  What else could I do?

Panting and sweating (a little), and with The Sisters now playfully kissing my neck, shoulders, and erect nipples, I looked down my naked, flushed, and sweating (a little) body and found I had a perfect view of Logan.  (Logan from the lap up, anyway.)  The distance was now a little greater than before, but her expression was still neutral and/or unreadable.  I did notice, however, that her chest and boobs were heaving (a little), although she wasn't panting like yours truly.

Now, The Sisters were resting their heads on my shoulders, but their hands continued slowly caressing my tummy and boobs.  They were letting me recover.

I returned to gazing at my naked, chair-bound, double-gagged, and obedience-collared bungalow-mate.  Seconds passed by.  Poor Logan.

"You're punishing her by making her watch," I said quietly.

Kelly kissed the left side of my neck.  "I wouldn't say 'punish,' exactly," she purred, "but yes, we're making her watch."

Gabby kissed my lips.  "She has no choice but to watch.  Isn't it wicked?"

"Wicked," Kelly purred.

They had a point, but I wasn't about to agree with them.  It would set a bad precedent.

"It's mean," I countered.

"Mean?" Kelly responded.  "You mean as in tying a person down and involuntarily moisturizing their naked body?"

"Now that would be mean," Gabby chuckled.

I blushed bright crimson, just short of spontaneous combustion.  Obviously, Logan had given her employers a full briefing on all recent bungalow shenanigans.   Lo-gan!  How could you?

"Don't worry, darling," Kelly said quietly.  "This is as 'mean' as things are going to get this evening."

I blinked and continued gazing at Logan.  "You mean we're going to sleep?  With Logan like that?"  My blinking intensified.  "Wait.  What do you mean 'this evening?'  Does that mean things are gonna be mean tomorrow?"

"Let's see now," Gabby chuckled.  "No... yes... we'll see... and yes.  Did I get that right?"

"I believe so," Kelly chuckled, then The Sisters reached over my naked, sweaty, bound, semi-flustered, and post-orgasmic body and executed a "high five."

"W-what?" I whined.

"Tomorrow we're going to demonstrate some of our more advanced games," Kelly explained.

"Games that could definitely be categorized as 'mean' by any reasonable damsel or mistress," Gabby amplified.

I blinked in intellectual consternation (and terror).  "W-what?"

"Don't worry, Honey Bun," Kelly chuckled.

"Honey Bun?" Gabby inquired.

"Quiet," Kelly purred, then kissed my forehead.  "Nothing terribly 'mean' is going to happen to you, Annie.  Tonight, Red gets to watch.  Tomorrow, you'll get to watch."

"W-watch what?" I squeaked.

"That would be telling," Gabby purred.

I focused my frantic blinking on Logan.  "Don't be mean to her, please?"

Kelly kissed my neck, again, then whispered in my ear.  "There's mean... and there's mean, Annie.  We're only going to be mean."

I found this confusing and not at all reassuring.  I opened my mouth to request clarification, but Gabby took the occasion to lift the baby-blue rubber ball of my ball-gag-necklace and pop it in my mouth!  "Mrrrk!"  Then, The Sisters worked in concert to buckle the ball-gag's strap at the nape of my neck.  Now there were two naked, bound, and ball-gagged damsels in the bedroom... and two naked but neither bound nor gagged mistresses.

And then, adding an element of finality to my enforced near-silence, Gabby leaned towards the bedside table on the right side of the bed, opened a drawer, and pulled out a cute little heart-shaped padlock.  It really was cute, arguably precious, but it was a padlock!

"Mrrrf!" I whined, but couldn't prevent Kelly from holding my head steady or Gabby from clicking the padlock through the hole thingie in the tongue of the ball-gag's buckle!  That's right!  She padlocked my ball-gag!  I was perma-ball-gagged!

Then, both sisters planted simultaneous kisses on my cheeks (my face cheeks).

"I think she's ready," Gabby said, continuing to kiss my face and neck.  She also resumed gliding her hands over my naked body.

"I agree," Kelly agreed.  "Round Two, Annie," she added, then joined her sister in kissing and fondling my squirming form.

"Mrrrmpfh!" I complained (whined), but was helpless and gagged and rubber-wrist-bound and unable to speak, and... all that stuff.

Round Two was followed by a rest interval... then Round Three!  At some point Gabby (I think it was Gabby) produced a torpedo-style vibrator and unleashed the technological terror on my blushing, sweaty, flustered self!  That was an escalation, to be sure, but I can't really say it was "mean."

Anyway, after Round Three came another rest period, but I don't know if anything happened after that.  I closed my eyes to give them a rest... and was out for the night.

And poor Logan had no choice but to sit in her chair and watch the entire drama unfold!  She had no choice but to squirm, wiggle, languish, and watch as her naked employers used their lips, tongues, hands, various other parts of their anatomies, and at least one vibrator to pin my naked, bound, and gagged body to the bed and have their wicked ways with me!  Three times!  (Three for everything but the vibrator, anyway.  I'm not actually sure when it was introduced.)

O the horror!  The horror!

 Chapter 8

I awakened the next morning to find myself alone in the giant bed.  The Sisters were absent.  I was still naked, rubber-wrist-bound, and ball-gagged.  I blinked a few times, lifted my gagged head and shook most of my blond locks from my face, and only then discovered that Logan was still present and still naked, lashed to her chair, double-gagged, and obedience-collared.  She was also awake.

I watched as my bungalow-mate gave her bound body a weak squirm, then nodded her gagged head in my direction.  Obviously, she wanted out of the chair, but I wasn't sure what she expected me to do about it.  Logan rolled her eyes, repeated her look-how-helpless-I-am demonstration, then nodded at me, again.

Okay, okay, I can take a hint.  It wouldn't be easy, being naked, neoprene-cuffed, and ball-gagged, but I could try.  I extricated myself from the bed's tangled covers, padded to Logan and the chair, and made a slow circuit of my helpless friend.  I was able to diagnose the locations of the key knots without any trouble, and by "key" I mean the knots I would have to untie before I could attack the rest of the hitches, cinches, and... sub-knots?  Is sub-knots a thing?  Intermediate knots?  Anyway, with my wrists neoprene-cuffed behind my back, untying Logan was going to be a long, laborious, supremely awkward process.

While I contemplated the task at hand, Logan nodded at me again and fluttered the fingers of her closest hand.  (You'll remember, of course, that Logan's arms were at her sides with her wrists, lower, and upper arms lashed to the side-rails of the chair-back.)

"Mrr?"  ("Huh?")

Logan rolled her eyes and slowly, carefully used her index finger to point in my direction... closed her fist... then extended her index finger again.  There was a pause...  Then, she used the finger to point at herself... closed her fist again... then flexed all five fingers several times.

"Mrr?"  ("Huh?")

Logan rolled her eyes again, then repeated the entire finger-waving and fist-clenching "signal."

What was she trying to tell me?  It was something like: "You, one.  Me, many."  I frowned, then rolled my eyes.  Of course.  My wrists were secured by a single buckle, whereas Logan's bonds required the untying of several knots, not to mention the unraveling of several yards of intricately cinched rope.  Duh!  I guess I was still half-asleep.

I padded close and held my wrist-bonds as close as I could to Logan's right hand.  Despite her bonds, and with some effort, she managed to release the neoprene cuff's snap-buckle... and I was free!  I was still ball-gagged, of course, and until we located the key to the cute little heart-shaped padlock securing my gag's buckle, all conversational efforts on my part would be decidedly inarticulate.  I was better off than Logan, of course.  She was ball-gagged and had that obedience collar to contend with.

I stretched my naked body full-length, going up on my toes, reaching for the ceiling, and arching my back.  Then, I rubbed my wrists (although they didn't really need it) and set to work freeing Logan-the-Red.  In no time at all (meaning about fifteen minutes), the last knot was untied, the final loop of rope loosened and pulled away, and it was Logan's turn to stand (stiffly), stretch, and rub her wrists.

I placed my left hand on Logan's shoulder, then used my right to carefully, gently peel the Elastoplast from Logan's lower face.  The strip surrendered its adhesive grip with great reluctance, stretching her coral lips and the pale skin of her face.  This revealed the silicon rubber ball strapped in her mouth.  The sphere appeared to be identical to my mouth plug in diameter (1¾"), but whereas my mouth-plug was baby-blue (to match my now missing Sweet Gwendoline costume), Logan's was pastel-green (no doubt to complement her ginger hair).

I turned Logan around and parted her hair to release the buckle of her ball-gag's strap, and discovered we had something else in common.  The buckle of Logan's ball-gag was secured with another cute little heart-shaped padlock.  Now we had matching incentives to locate the missing key or keys.

I took a step back and visually examined my bungalow-mate's pale body.  Rope-marks.  Logan had lots of rope-marks, but I couldn't see any rope-burns or bruises.  With time, I decided, her pale, smooth skin would be back to normal.

Logan gazed back at me and I noticed her green eyes were... worried?

I blinked my brown eyes a couple of times, then realized the problem.

There was only one remedy.

I padded forward and pulled my best friend into a fierce hug and held on tight... and after a couple of seconds she hugged me back.

Did I forgive Logan for being a foxy (and possibly ratty) trickster and luring me into our current horrible, insidious, wonderful circumstances?  Yes.  As a matter of fact, I did.

"Mrrr," I purred softly.  Now, my ball-gagged head was resting on Logan's left shoulder and Logan's ball-gagged head was resting on mine.  Our arms were around each other with our boobs, tummies, and thighs pressed nakedly together.  Of course, poor Logan was unable to purr or mewl or otherwise verbally express the vast relief and limitless gratitude she had to be feeling in the face of my merciful munificence.  She was still wearing the obedience-collar.

Serves her right.

 Chapter 8


Chapter 7
Chapter 9