Time passed in
the black room with the four posts, the mysteriously shrouded
chair-shaped object, and Eliza Callahan.
Hours. Maybe... three? Eliza's best guess
was three... maybe going on four... but probably three.
Other than stare at the aforementioned shrouded object, the only
way Eliza found to pass the time was to squirm in the elaborate
network of white nylon ropes binding her to the six-inch steel
post pressing against back, butt, and legs—tug on the hinged
handcuffs (with natural rubber tubing padding) locked around her
wrists behind the post—and wiggle her white-nylon-cord-bound
toes, all ten of them! She most decidedly did not try
forcing any noise past the red panties stuffed in her mouth, the
wide strip of Elastoplast tape adhered to most of her lower
face, or the thin panel-gag of black leather tautly stretched
across the tape and buckled at the nape of her neck.
Why? Because an obedience collar of black nylon webbing
was poised to zap her with electricity if she tried! That's
Eliza didn't like being zapped, never had, so she'd decided to
chicken out on testing the collar. Coco had said it would
zap her, and Eliza decided that was good enough for her.
Maybe the collar would zap her, or maybe not, but making
well-muffled gag-noise was totally pointless anyway, so why
insult Coco's veracity and take the chance? That said, at
one point she'd dropped her guard and let slip a deep sigh of
frustration—Ziiit!—and was rewarded by a
not-at-all-painful but definitely there buzz from the
copper studs nudging her neck on either side of her
larynx! That was all the confirmation she needed, thank
you very much! No pointless gag-noise for Eliza!
Oh-by-the-way, her hands were curled into fists and mummified in
tight, no doubt smooth and neatly overlapping layers of some
sort of black, slightly stretchy tape that might be
latex. She couldn't actually see the fist-mummies in
question, of course, as her cuffed hands were behind her back
and on the other side of the post, but the wrapping and
stretching had been done by Coco Vespini, so it was a safe bet
they were works of art. Bondage-wise, Coco knew her stuff.
And as it turned out, it wasn't fun being bound, gagged, naked,
and tightly lashed to a post to the point that you could just barely
squirm. Who knew?
Anyway... naked, well-gagged, and ridiculously over-bound, Eliza
manned her post and waited for an Evil Villainess, meaning Coco
and/or Pepper, to return and/or arrive and... move things
along. Okay, the Vespini sisters weren't truly evil,
but they were into bondage, and more than happy to
share their knowledge with innocent visitors who had thought
their interest in the subject would be wholly journalistic
and not practical... innocent visitors like Tippi and
So... that brings us to the aforementioned thing that Eliza could
do: visually examine the Mysterious Shrouded Object lit by
the overhead spotlights and directly before her.
Unfortunately, that didn't take very long, and turned out to be
as pointless as squirming against Coco's ropes. The
dust-cloth-covered thing was definitely the size and general
shape of a chair, probably with arms, but it probably wasn't a
wing-back or overstuffed easy-chair. And it might have
a headrest, but that was about all she could determine.
And Eliza realized she could easily be entirely wrong. The
shrouded lump could be an easel and a small trunk placed close
together for all she knew. That said, Eliza considered
"some form of seating" to be a pretty safe bet.
Just then—Click! Finally!—the chamber door was
unlocked, opened, and Coco, Pepper, and Tippi padded across the
threshold. The Vespini sisters were still in their
at-home-uniforms of black jeans and tank-tops (with pokies) and
Tippi was still naked, with her hands cuffed behind her back and
her mouth gagged; however, her former ball-gag was gone, and in
its place was a broad, wide strip of Elastoplast tape. The
shape of her partner's lips and mouth stood out in 3D relief, as
was standard with a properly applied Elastoplast
"Sorry for the delay, darling," Coco purred.
No you're not, Eliza silently fumed.
"Anyway," Coco continued, "we're finished the housework and our
daily exercise and are ready to proceed with Tippi's
punishment." She stepped forward, grabbed the dust-cloth
with two hands, and whisked it away with a theatrical
Eliza's eyes widened and she barely remembered not to make some
sort of gagged exclamation.
"Mrrrf!" That was Tippi, of course. Her eyes were
also wide, and it seemed the only thing keeping her from turning
and fleeing through the open door and back down the corridor was
the fact that Pepper had a firm grasp on her upper left arm.
The object now fully revealed was a chair, as Eliza had
suspected, but it was a decidedly sinister chair!
Its frame was chrome-plated or stainless steel, and for purposes
of classification it was, as Eliza had also suspected, an
armchair with a headrest. There were also a leg-rest, or
more precisely, a leg-rest split down the middle into two
identical halves. Everything that would come in contact
with a seated damsel (like Tippi) was padded with black leather
(or possibly Naugahyde), and while the chair looked comfortable,
it wasn't a lounger. It was, however, fully adjustable,
with gears and little hand-wheels at just about every joint in
the frame. Finally, its sturdy, swivel-mounted, pedestal
base was bolted to the floor.
So far so good, but what made the chair truly "sinister" were
the medical-style cuffs attached to the chair's arms, each of
the leg-rests, and the straps dangling from the back and
sides. They were black leather with steel buckles sporting
clearly visible barrel-key-style locking flanges. The
cuffs were well-padded, like the medical restraints that had
bound Eliza to her guest bed on her second night at the mansion,
only these were black, rather than the more traditional
butternut-tan. Also, what was clearly a collar was
attached at the appropriate location. It was wide and
padded, what Eliza believed was called a "posture collar" in
bondage crowd parlance. Among the medical community, it
probably would be characterized as an unnecessarily stylish
Pepper unlocked Tippi's cuffs and took a step back. And
then, without saying a word, Coco made a graceful gesture,
indicating the chair. Both Vespini sisters were smiling,
Tippi stared at the chair... shifted her big brown eyes to
helplessly bound and gagged Eliza (finding no support there)...
then back to the chair. Finally, she padded forward,
heaved a tape-gagged sigh, planted her butt on the seat, and
settled into the rest of the padding... voluntarily!
Eliza was somewhat surprised. Supposedly, Tippi had been
"naughty," had acknowledged her guilt, and had agreed
to endure some sort of "punishment." In her place, Eliza
would have fought like the proverbial wildcat before she allowed
herself to be strapped into that chair... which
obviously was what was now about to happen. And at the
very least, the Tippi she knew would have struggled,
squirmed, and mewled like a cranky kitten... but she hadn't...
and she wasn't. Tippi had settled into the chair like a
martyr going to her fate. Granted, as a rule, Tippi was
less, shall we say, assertive than Eliza-the-Brave, but
this wasn't like her. It was a little unsettling.
Why was Tippi being so compliant? The only reasonable
explanation was that she actually did feel guilty about
What the hell did you do, Tippi? Eliza wondered.
In any case, Coco and Pepper were, indeed, strapping Tippi to
the chair. Padded cuffs tightened and locked around her
wrists, upper arms, mid-thighs, and ankles, making sure her arms
and legs remained firmly in place on the armrests and leg-rests,
respectively. Also, two-inch-wde horizontal straps were
stretched across her body, buckled tight, and locked, pinning
her torso against the chair-back at the waist and below and
above her breasts. Finally, the collar was buckled and
locked around her neck—her entire neck, from just below
her ears to her shoulders, and by Tippi's belated and pointless
squirming, the devilish thing was rigidly attached to the
chair! It even had a chin-rest!
Having finished their work, the Vespini sisters took a step back
and smiled; meaning, of course, they gloated like a couple of
criminal masterminds in a James Bond movie. It was
Meanwhile, Tippi continued testing her bonds. News flash:
they worked. From the neck down, she was able to
squirm, twist, and tug against the restraints. She even
succeeded in making her breasts bob and shimmy a little, but the
chair ignored her efforts completely. It didn't rattle
and/or shake, and the leather didn't even creak. From the
neck up it was even worse. All Tippi could do was blink
her big brown eyes and flare her nostrils. She might also
be knitting her brow, but her bangs were in the way and Eliza
couldn't be sure. And Tippi didn't bother making any
gag-noises. It was the only distress-arrow left in her
quiver, so she probably didn't want to waste it.
Coco shifted her diabolical/winsome smile to Eliza, then padded
over to stand at her side.
"A remarkable chair," Coco purred, apparently addressing the
prisoner-of-the-post. "Don't you agree? No
ornamentation or unnecessary elaboration, but that's what makes
it so special. Form follows function all the way to
graceful design. See the hand-wheels? They're used
to position the occupant in a near infinite number of
poses, from simply sitting there, as Tippi is now, to fully
reclined. I call that 'table-mode.' There's also
head down and feet up, or 'foot-tickling-mode,' and that's with
or without the legs splayed apart and with the knees either bent
or straight. Also, the legs can be opened all the way to
'full-splits-mode,' of course."
"I'll show you," Pepper volunteered, padded to Tippi and the
remarkable chair in question, and began turning one of the
hand-wheels. As she did so, the legs of the chair began to
separate, as if Tippi was spreading her knees apart. "I
won't bother with lifting her feet," Pepper purred, smiling at
Tippi as she turned the crank, "but she looks better with her
legs apart like this, don't you think?"
Pepper continued spinning the wheel, the slow separation of the
leg-rests continued, and Tippi had no choice in the
matter. The thick-walled and well-padded ankle and thigh
restraints kept her legs firmly positioned on the leg-rests as
they scissored open. She whined through her gag and tugged
on her wrist cuffs to express her dissatisfaction, but Pepper
and the chair ignored her efforts.
The wheel-spinning continued until Tippi's legs were splayed a
little past 90°. Needless to say, this exposed Tippi's
lady bits, placing them on full display—labia, slit, Venus
mound, and the curly thicket above—everything!
Above the top margin of her tape-gag, Tippi's cheeks were
blushing like crazy (and probably underneath).
"I think that's enough," Pepper purred, then resumed her former
gloating pose of arms folded under her breasts and
angelic/demonic face beaming with satisfaction at her appalling
wickedness. "You thought I was going to continue to
full-split, didn't you, Schoolgirl?" she teased Tippi.
"Various sections of the padding can be folded back or even
removed," Coco continued her lecture, "including the foot-rests,
the front half of the seat, and the headrest. And there
are attachment-points for brackets that position vibrators and
other, shall we say, 'intimate machinery' at strategic
locations. There's also a pair of 'toe-harp' accessories,
semi-circular brackets that capture all ten toes with taut
wires, completely immobilizing the occupant's feet for...
Coco reached to the side and casually cupped Eliza's left breast
in her right hand, capturing the nipple between her thumb and
This almost caused Eliza to conduct the
obedience-collar test she'd been hoping to avoid, but she caught
herself in time.
"There are several brackets and attachments for
entertaining breasts and nipples," Coco continued. "Glass
suction domes for the entire breast, smaller tubes for these
little gals"—She tugged on Eliza's nipple for emphasis—"as well
as clamps with stretching wires, and really delightful things
I call my 'pincushion bra-cups,' steel domes lined on the inside
with very sharp needles. And I'm having new
accessories made all the time." She released Eliza's
nipple and breast. "But we'll leave that sort of fun for
another time. Today, we're using the chair to simply keep
Tippi in the proper position for her agreed upon punishment."
And with that final mysterious statement, Coco padded to
Pepper's side, folded her arms under her breasts, and the
Vespini sisters resumed their Gloating Bond Villain
imitations. Seconds passed with Tippi continuing her
futile struggles, her wide eyes darting from Coco, to Pepper, to
Eliza, and back. All Eliza did was stand at her
post. It was all she could do. And then...
"Well, our 'special consultant' should be arriving in about an
hour," Coco announced, "so I suppose you girls will have to
chill until then. You don't mind chilling for a while, do
'Special consultant?' Eliza wondered. That's
not at all ominous.
The question about "chilling" was rhetorical, of course, not to
mention in no way literal. A light patina of sweat
glistened on Eliza's skin from head to toe, and no doubt Tippi
would start glowing at any second. The Chamber of the Four
Posts and Evil Chair was slightly overheated, if anything.
There would be no "chilling."
And with that final one-way exchange, Coco and Pepper padded to
the door, crossed the threshold, and closed the portal behind
Eliza gazed at Tippi. Tippi gazed back. They had a
lot to talk about, including punishment, what Tippi had done to
deserve it, and the topic of special consultants, but
no way to do it.
"Mrrrf?" Tippi inquired.
Eliza rolled her eyes, then lifted her chin to ensure Tippi got
a good look at her obedience collar. Whether Tippi
realized what the thing was and therefore why Eliza wasn't
"answering" was unclear. Tippi simply squirmed in her
bonds and blinked her big brown eyes. Her boobs bobbed a
little, but her pageboy hung perfectly still. The chair's
posture collar was doing an excellent job of locking her head
firmly but comfortably in place.
All the friends could do was wait... so they did.
|| Chapter 8
Tippi had done their homework before visiting the mansion.
That is, they'd scoured the internet for material about the
bondage scene, all the way from Psychology Today
articles, to "how to" practical reference sites, to "scholarly"
discussions of bondage in popular entertainment. But truth
be told, it was more like they "dipped a toe" in the subject
matter rather than conducted comprehensive research.
Nonetheless, upon arrival at the mansion they'd considered
themselves adequately prepared... sort of.
For that reason, neither damsel was surprised by the "proposal"
on the Vespini sisters part that they should "chill" for some
unspecified interval. Nor were they surprised by the
passage of a full hour before they heard the door once
again being unlocked. Click! Leaving a
damsel to stew in her juices (so to speak) for an hour was more
or less traditional. Of course, Eliza had already been
waiting three hours, but unfortunately, the arrival of
the sisters and the strapping of Tippi to the Evil Chair had
reset the clock, so, together with Tippi, she'd had to wait an additional
hour. Bummer. Anyway...
The door swung open and the Vespini sisters made their grand
entrance. They were each pushing a steel serving cart
laden with various objects and things hidden under a pair of
medical-green cloths. And following close on their heels
The inquiry and expression of genuine surprise (and possibly
alarm) was from Tippi, of course. Once again, Eliza
limited her response to a wide-eyed stare, so as not to get
The third arrival was female, somewhat diminutive in stature,
and shrouded from head to toe in a black spandex leotard,
body-suit, or whatever you call those things. (Eliza knew
such suits were referred to with a Japanese word starting with a
"Z," but she couldn't remember it.) Anyway, the suit
included gloves, booties (with oriental-style pockets for her
big-toes), and a full hood. Not so much as a sliver of
the wearer's skin or a single strand of her hair was visible.
And oh-by-the-way, the new arrival's ensemble included a
full-face mask. It was something like a Venetian carnival
or Mardi Gras mask. There was some ornamentation,
but only in the form of airbrushed makeup and a little
diamond-like bling above the eyes. In Tippi's opinion it
looked somewhat... oriental?... maybe. Also, it was
unclear how the mask was attached to the suit. There were
no visible strings, ribbons, or straps. The mask may have
been an integral part of the hood.
And the mysterious masked-woman-in-black was definitely a
woman. Her boobs weren't huge, but they were there.
Her figure was slender and well-proportioned, and she moved with
the grace of a ballerina or acrobat. Needless to say, her
appearance was unexpected, both her aspect and her
arrival. Also... decidedly eerie.
Coco and Tippi positioned the carts to either side and slightly
behind Tippi's chair, then removed the cloth covers, folded them
neatly, and placed them on the lowest shelf of their respective
carts. Tippi couldn't see any of that, of course.
She tried rolling her eyes, but thanks to the chair's rigid
collar, it was wasted effort.
From her post, however, and despite the distance, Eliza could
see, and the view was... ominous? She decided to go
with "ominous." Resting on each cart were neat arrays of
different kinds of scissors, clippers, combs, and brushes.
There was also a modest stack of neatly folded hand-towels, a
plastic spray-bottle, a handheld blow-dryer, and other stuff
Eliza couldn't see very well. Anyway, Eliza realized she
was staring at a full complement of hairdressing equipment!
Tippi's previously announced punishment for whatever it was
she'd done during the night was now obvious! She was going
to be given an involuntary haircut! Eliza squirmed in her
rope bonds and stared daggers at the Vespini sisters, but that
was all she could do to register her outrage and/or lodge the
obligatory complaint. Either Coco and Pepper didn't
notice, or she was being ignored. The sisters weren't even
looking in her direction. Pepper had retrieved a third
tray from one of the cart's lower shelves and was carrying a
thermal carafe and complete tea service for two to the café
table off to the side. Coco and the mysterious
woman-in-black remained close to the chair and its pitifully
squirming occupant, and appeared to be discussing Poor Tippi's
dire and imminent fate in whispered tones. Eliza couldn't
make out a single word.
Finally, Coco padded to the café table and joined her
sister. They settled into the two comfortably padded
accompanying chairs and prepared to enjoy cups of hot tea.
Pepper was "Mother," meaning she was the one that poured
steaming hot elixir from the carafe and into the cups.
Meanwhile, the woman-in-black had picked up a comb and a pair of
scissors and was dancing in Eliza's direction! Yes, in Eliza's
direction! And she was literally dancing! Her steps
were slow, graceful, and exaggerated. It sort of reminded
Eliza of Japanese Kabuki theater, something about which
she knew next to nothing. Anyway, the masked woman was definitely
dancing, and the eeriness factor in the chamber ratcheted up
another notch. The woman was waving the scissors and comb
in elegant, delicate arcs as she approached... as if they were
swords or fans.
And then... she was there, right in front of Eliza and her
post! The eyes of the mask were black as midnight.
That is, the eye-openings were covered by tinted lenses, dark
enough that Eliza could see absolutely nothing of the woman's
actual eyes. She assumed the lens coverings weren't
opaque. Nobody likes people who can't see dancing around
The scissors and comb continued tracing delicate paths as the
masked hairdresser gracefully, silently, and slowly gamboled and
pranced. Eliza decided she might as well say it (meaning think
it): Hairdresser! She also decided holding
her head perfectly still was probably a very good idea, so she
did. The woman danced in place for several more seconds...
then began dancing a slow, spinning orbit around the post.
Snick! Snick! Snick! And now and then,
the scissors darted out to sever the very ends of a few strands
of Eliza's tousled blond hair! She felt the tiny cuttings
settle on her shoulders, and when they were face-to-face, her
chest and breasts. She could both see and feel them.
They were only drifting fragments, but they were her drifting
fragments! It was her hair!
And then... after very little snipping, which had to have made
little difference (if any) in her overall appearance... the
woman danced away, heading for Coco, Pepper, and the café
table. Eliza's heart hammered and her hair-decorated boobs
heaved as she panted through flaring nostrils and watched as
another quiet, whispered conference happened. Obviously,
as they were looking in her direction, she was the
topic of conversation, and probably, specifically, her
hair. Eliza had stopped glaring when she was face-to-face
with the dancing woman-in-black with the dancing scissors, but
she was glaring now! Don't you dare! she silently
warned. Don't even think about it!
Now it was abundantly obvious that they were discussing
Eliza in general and her hair in particular! The dancer
repeatedly gestured (gracefully) in her direction, clacking her
scissors for emphasis, while Coco and Pepper smiled, nodded,
sipped tea, and made the occasional whispered comment.
And then, the Masked Dancing Hairdresser spun on her heels and
danced towards Tippi and the Barber Chair of Doom... and the
woman chose a curved trajectory that ensured Poor Tippi could
see her coming. Once again she was waving the scissors and
comb like they were fans, knives, swords, fluttering scarves,
And then... it happened! Poor Tippi's hair was ruthlessly
albeit professionally coifed!
It took some time, but when the proverbial dust settled (as well
as the literal severed hair), Tippi had more or less (emphasis
on less) the same basic hairstyle, only half as long. Her
straight bangs were unchanged, but the horizontal line of her
pageboy had been shortened and angled up in back into a classic
Lulu-bob, exposing her entire neck and just barely clearing
the lower tips of her earlobes.
Much to her surprise... Eliza liked it... meaning Tippi's new
hairdo. After all, it was the same as her former pageboy
(which Eliza had always liked) only now it was more... daring...
and exotic. She'd have a better idea when Tippi was free
of the posture collar and out of the chair, but Eliza liked it.
As for the manner in which it was inflicted on her best friend,
not so much. Eliza glared at the tea-slurping
Vespini sisters and the Kabuki Hairdresser. Even
if it was punishment, what could Tippi have possibly done
to deserve such... stylish retribution?
Anyway, the Hairdresser of Oriental Mystery (aka Dances With
Scissors) returned her tools to their proper places on the cart,
then used a small hand-whisk to brush the severed hair from
Tippi's naked and restrained body. She appeared to be
getting most, but not all of the clippings. After
all, as previously mentioned, the room was overheated
and everybody was glowing. At least some of the severed
hair was reluctant to abandon Tippi's glistening skin, but only
Meanwhile, Coco and Tippi abandoned their tea-slurping ways,
rose from their chairs, padded to Tippi and her chair,
and the Masked Hairdresser.
"Oh, she's absolutely delightful!" Coco gushed, then
gave the hairdresser a quick but enthusiastic hug.
"I couldn't agree more," Pepper beamed, then leaned close and
kissed Tippi's tape-gagged lips. "Just wait 'til you see
yourself, sweetie. Let's get you to a mirror... and a
shower." She began unbuckling Tippi's restraints and Coco
joined the effort, but they left her wrist cuffs 'til last.
Meanwhile, the hairdresser finished arranging the scissors,
combs, etc., then restored the green cloth covers. She
then turned and watched as the Vespini sisters finished
releasing Tippi, lifted her to her bare feet, and cuffed her
hands behind her back with a pair of the shiny steel hinged
handcuffs with natural rubber tubing cushioning.
Resistance had been impossible (or at least highly improbable).
Poor Tippi was now naked, handcuffed, Elastoplast-tape-gagged,
and Lulu-bobbed. She blinked her big brown eyes at Eliza
as Pepper led her away... and was gone.
Next, Coco and the hairdresser made their exits, each pushing a
cart. They'd even remembered to take the tea service
formerly on the café table with them.
Click! And that, of course, was the door being
locked from the outside.
Once again, Eliza was alone in the Black Dungeon/Hair-Salon,
naked, lashed to the steel post with yards of white nylon rope,
her ten toes tied with thin white cord, her wrists cuffed behind
the post with a duplicate of the rubber-padded cuffs binding her
now absent bestie-with-the-Lulu-cut, her fists reduced to
useless tape-mummies, gagged with a leather panel and Elastoplast
tape-gag (with red-panties-stuffing), and further silenced by
the obedience-collar locked around her neck.
The only things different was the Barber Chair of Stylish Doom
was no longer covered and the remains of the lower half of
Tippi's pageboy were strewn about the floor.
Eliza squirmed for comfort, forced a carefully silent sigh past
her system of gags, and stared at the modest pile of severed
hair. If they expect me to clean that up, they've got
a looong wait, she thought, and I can't get over how
good Tippi looks with her hair like that!
|| Chapter 8
So, yet another
hour of waiting, right?
Actually, no. Go figure.
Coco returned in a little less than half-an-hour,
heralded by the unlocking of the chamber door. Click!
Without any gloating or other form of villainous preamble, she
produced a small pair of folding scissors, knelt at Eliza's
feet, and carefully freed her toes from their white cord
bindings. Then, she stood, and after folding and pocketing
the mini-scissors, she proceeded to untie (and uncinch) the
plenitude of white nylon rope lashing Eliza to the steel post
from ankles to shoulders... which took a while. She then
unlocked the hinged handcuffs, helped Eliza awkwardly stagger
away from the post, then immediately cuffed Eliza's
wrists behind her back, once again. She didn't touch
Eliza's fist-mummies, panel-gag or tape-gag (with
red-panties-stuffing). Nor did she unlock and remove the
alleged obedience collar.
Having nothing else to occupy the time between Tippi's haircut
and Coco's return, Eliza had been working up the
courage to finally conduct a test of the obedience collar, to
confirm that she wasn't being pranked by Coco and the bloody
thing actually would shock her if she tried making
vocal noise, but now was definitely not the time.
She'd wait until Coco was well out of gloating range.
Anyway, glaring into the distance and ignoring her smiling
handler, Eliza graciously allowed herself to be dragged (led) to
Coco's bedroom, then on into the luxurious attached bath.
There, after watching Coco strip, she enjoyed (for real!) a long
hot shower. The steaming deluge felt very good,
and she didn't let the feeling of Coco's hands gliding over her
body and scrubbing her with a soapy washcloth spoil (or enhance)
The tiny fragments of blond hair left behind when Dances With
Scissors snipped a few ends of her tousled hair were now washed
away, and Eliza looked in a full-length mirror and noted the
complex, symmetrical pattern of rope-marks crisscrossing her
nude body were already beginning to fade. She stood
perfectly still and bravely tolerated Coco using a fluffy towel
to thoroughly dry her skin and hair.
"I really am quite good at crafting attractive bondage with
uniform tension," Coco purred, "even at critical junctions and
other potential friction-points. It takes experience and
effort. Nobody likes a damsel covered in rope-burns and
bruises." She unbuckled Eliza's panel-gag and tossed it
aside. "It also cuts down on the wait time between
sessions," she continued as she teased back a corner of Eliza's
Elastoplast tape-gag, then began slowly, carefully peeling the
milky white panel from Eliza's lower face. As the wide
strip's adhesive surrendered, it stretched Eliza's lips and
face... then came free and was tossed aside as well. "And
an artist always likes to start with a fresh canvas,"
Coco said with a smile, then delicately plucked the wadded red
panties from Eliza's mouth. "Don't you agree, Tomboy?"
Working her jaw and licking her lips, Eliza almost took
the bait, but once again, maintained her angry silence and thus
avoided getting zapped by the obedience collar, assuming, of
course that Coco wasn't bluffing and the bloody thing really did
work as advertised.
Coco then filled a glass with cold water and held it to Eliza's
lips. She drank it all. After all, she'd been
manning her post in the Dungeon/Hair-Salon for... too many hours...
and she'd missed lunch. She then glowered and
stared exotic knives, stilettos, daggers, dirks, bayonets, and
even the occasional poniard at her handler's face as
Coco smiled her infuriating dimpled smile and used the wet
washcloth to give her now gag-free face special attention.
A quick trip to the toilet to empty her bladder was next,
followed by another humiliating experience with the commode's
built-in bidet. Then, it was back into the main bedroom.
"Dinner tonight will be a special occasion," Coco announced as
she gave Eliza a gentle shove, sending her bouncing onto the
neatly made bed, "so why don't you take a nice nap to recharge
It was a rhetorical question, of course, as Eliza was already on
the bed... and her hostess had produced a second pair of hinged
steel handcuffs (with natural-rubber tubing padding), gathered
Eliza's ankles together, and locked the cuffs around her ankles.
"There," Coco purred as she smiled (gloated) down at her nude
guest, with her obedience collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, and
fist-mummies of black latex tape. "Pretty as a picture."
Eliza continued sending imaginary cutlery in Coco's direction,
and every pigsticker was custom made (with a damasked steel
blade), and was totally ineffectual. She continued the
pointless (or pointed but harmless) barrage as Coco padded into
her walk-in closet... and almost immediately returned wearing
black designer jeans and pulling a black tank-top over her
head. She was back in uniform.
Coco ran her fingers through her gleaming brown curls to restore
it to its usual charmingly tousled order, then resumed smiling
(gloating) at her helpless young guest.
Eliza stared daggers.
"Well, sweet dreams, Tomboy," Coco said finally, then turned and
padded to the bedroom door. She paused in the threshold to
send a final infuriating smile in Eliza's direction, accompanied
by a truly maddening flutter-fingered wave... and then
"Bitch!" Eliza muttered in a whisper—BUZZ!—and was
immediately jolted by a paralyzing zap of electricity! It
wasn't excruciatingly painful, but it had definitely
hurt and was something to be avoided.
So, the bloody thing does work, Eliza thought,
referring, of course, to the obedience-collar still locked
around her neck and threatening her larynx. Ace,
she silently fumed, and mentally crossed the topic of collar
testing off her agenda. And then... having few other
options... she heaved a carefully silent sigh, closed
her eyes, and tried her best to take the suggested nap.
Her final thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were of Tippi and
her new haircut.
She really does look good like that. Very...
saucy. Maybe I should... nah... no way.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ z z z z z z z ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~
||Trying New Things