Eliza woke to
find the sun had almost set. The garden beyond Coco's
bedroom windows was in deepening shadow and the clouds above the
tree tops had taken on a decidedly orange tint. Also, she
could use a trip to the bathroom, but with her ankles and wrists
locked in rubber-padded hinged cuffs, that meant she'd have to
hop. Her fingers and hands were still curled up in tight
"fist-mummies" of black latex tape, but that wasn't germane to
the issue at hand. Also, the obedience collar was still
locked around her neck prevented her from summoning help.
That was germane. Not that there was any help for
her to summon, of course, other than the Vespini sisters.
There was always a chance Tippi might be within earshot, but
more likely than not their hosts had her bound, gagged, and
stashed away someplace secure where she was hoping for Eliza's
So, that left hopping... or crawling... and there was absolutely
no way Eliza Callahan was going to slither on the floor
voluntarily. It would be degrading, undignified, and could
lead to carpet-burn.
Hopping it is, Eliza decided, rolled across the rumpled
bedspread to the edge of the king-size mattress, planted her
cuffed feet on the carpet, carefully (and awkwardly) stood...
heaved a frustrated but carefully silent sigh, so as not to
awaken her obedience-collar, and commenced her bouncing
journey. Despite their somewhat modest size, her
boobs enthusiastically flopped and oscillated with every hop in
a most mortifying manner. Her ankles complained, but the
cuff's rubber-tubing liners adequately protected her skin.
Eventually, she made it to the bathroom, continued hopping to
the commode, sat, and conducted her business. And even
though her hands were balled into fists, encased in tape, and
cuffed behind her back, she managed to flush the bowl and
trigger the bidet function.
And that was where Coco found her, seated on the throne, her
knees splayed as far apart as the ankle-cuffs would comfortably
allow, wrists cuffed behind her back, obedience-collar locked
around her neck, and glaring at her hostess' in a
sullen, naked, and decidedly helpless manner.
"Oh darling," Coco chuckled, smiling her usual dimpled,
infuriating smile. "Did my cute little Aussie Tomboy hop
in here like a kangaroo? And I missed it?
I'm devastated!" As expected, she was still
dressed in her uniform of black designer jeans and tank-top
That does it! Eliza glowered, tugging on her
handcuffs. No more Ms Nice Damsel! Get me out of
these cuffs and I'll show you devastation, you bloody
BOGAN! Eliza's Down Under roots always came to the
fore when she was angry, and the angrier she became, the more
she became an "Ozzie Gull".
Coco seemed to sense she might have gone too far. (Eliza's
simultaneously furious and wounded expression was her principal
clue.) "I'm sorry, darling. I couldn't resist.
Let's get you dressed for dinner." She knelt before the
throne and its irate occupant, unlocked Eliza's ankle-cuffs, and
helped her to her feet. Eliza let it happen. Losing
the cuffs more than compensated for the humiliation of
cooperation. She continued cooperating as Coco led her
from the bathroom, across the bedroom, and into the walk-in
closet. Eliza realized she'd calmed down a little and was
no longer enraged... not really. She was merely... fit to
be tied. Luckily, she already was tied.. or
cuffed, to be more precise.
Once inside the closet, Coco did, indeed, dress Eliza for
dinner, as promised.
The final pair of cuffs were removed, leaving Eliza naked, her
hands still mummified, still silenced by the obedience-collar,
but otherwise free. And for reasons that never fully
coalesced in her still somewhat peeved consciousness, Eliza
continued cooperating as she was dressed and further
restrained. Her desire not to spoil her chances for the
promised interviews? Yes. Kinky curiosity about what
lay ahead? Certainly not! By which she
meant... maybe. Both? She wasn't at all sure.
It was... puzzling. Anyway...
The gown. It was a full-length, sleeveless evening gown in
a shimmering, black, synthetic fabric. It had a collar,
wide enough to cover and conceal her obedience-collar, and the
front continued down to cover her breasts... after a
fashion. The gown didn't have a traditional cleavage, but
Eliza was showing a significant amount of side boob on
both sides! Her nipples were concealed, but just
barely. A pair of horizontal spaghetti straps stretched
across her otherwise bare back and attached to the gown just
below her inadequately covered breasts, doing their best to
prevent a "wardrobe malfunction." And speaking of backs,
except for the thin straps, the gown didn't have one. From
Eliza's bare shoulders all the way to the first inch of her
butt-crack... nothing! Her bare feet were just hidden
by the gown's hem, but only when she stood still. One step
and her feet, toes, and leg appeared, thanks to the generous
slit up the gown's front. It was a truly stunning (and
revealing) fashion statement.
The restraint. First came a pair of opera gloves, or more
correctly, opera mitts. The were of a black,
stretchy, spandex-velvet material, fully compatible with the
fabric of the gown, and stretched all the way up to just below
her armpits, hugging her arms, wrists, and latex-tape
fist-mummies. And just to be clear, the opera-mitts had
neither fingers nor thumbs. Getting them on had taken a
little stretching and tugging on Coco's part, but when she was
finished, Eliza arms were reduced to inky-black, fabric-covered
clubs. But before Eliza could use those clubs to give her
smiling hostess the pounding she so richly deserved, Coco
removed the option with a truly stunning pair of
diamond-studded cuff-bracelets. The silvery, wide-walled
cuffs were covered in what was either a fortune in stones or
credible fakes, and constituted a pair of very bling
joined shackles. They held Eliza's crossed wrists just
below her shoulder-blades in a not very stringent version of
what she believed was called a reverse-prayer, but
knew she might not have that right. Is it still a
reverse-prayer if my wrists are crossed? No
matter. She was bound, and the obedience-collar was
covered in pretty black fabric but still at its post, locked
around her neck. Finally, bound as she was, she could do
nothing to adjust the front of her gown or do anything
about the exposed upper origin of her butt-crack.
Eliza stood in front of the closet's triptych of full-length
mirrors and glowered at her reflection. There was no
denying the gown was stunning... also daring. Speaking of
which, the diamond-covered shackles included a clever little
bracket that clamped shut and captured (so to speak) the bow
joining the gown's spaghetti-straps. If she tugged her
bling-bound wrists in one direction, the opposite side of the
gown's front would pull to the side, threatening to reveal one
of her nipples! And if she got tired of keeping her bound
wrists raised behind her back and tried lowering her arms from
the maybe-reverse-prayer, the gown's front fabric stretched,
hugged her breasts, and revealed a prominent pair of
pokies. All she could do was stand there and look
simultaneously stunning and ridiculous... and scowl at her
Coco came up behind Eliza, rested her chin on her right
shoulder, and smiled. Eliza glowered into infinity and
tolerated her presence. "You look fabulous, Tomboy," Coco
gushed, then took her by the arm and led her from the closet and
across the bedroom to her dressing table. She made sure
Eliza was comfortable (albeit irate) on the padded bench in
front of the table/cabinet and its oval mirror, then began
brushing her hair. "Oh, Tomboy," she sighed. "I'm
afraid there's only so much I can do. Are you absolutely
sure you don't want a nice trim?"
Coco locked eyes with her hostess/captor in the mirror and, her
blue eyes flashing, angrily shook her head. There was
absolutely no way she was going to agree to let Coco
strap her into the Barber Chair of Doom in the Chamber of Four
Columns so Dances With Scissors could give her a trim! No
"Well, give it some thought," Coco purred, then proceeded to
apply makeup to Eliza's frowning/pouting visage.
Eliza had to admit Coco did a good job. It was just enough
to accentuate the prominence of her cheekbones, highlight her
blue eyes, and lend a charming blush to her cheeks (or possibly
an angry flush).
The final touch was a pair of diamond pendant earrings that went
perfectly with the diamond shackles behind her back.
And then, it was Eliza's turn to wait while Coco padded back to
the closet and changed. She certainly couldn't do anything
to assist... other than turn around on the bench and watch the
show through the closet's open door.
First, Coco stripped to the skin, which didn't take very
long. Her jeans, tank-top, and panties went into a hamper,
then she donned an elegant cocktail dress with narrow shoulder
straps that showed a lot of cleavage. It hugged
her figure all the way to her mid-thighs, and to Eliza's
infinite amazement, it was royal-blue, not black!
Go figure. And she noted Coco was going commando, sans
panties, like Eliza herself. The difference was Coco
had decided not to select and don a pair from her
extensive, expensive collection of bikini-briefs or thongs, and
Eliza hadn't been given any choice in the matter.
Anyway, there was no denying that Coco looked absolutely
gorgeous. The blue color went well with her firm, smooth,
fair, flawless skin, and once she finished her makeup, brushed
her longish, gleaming brown hair, and added a little red
lip-gloss, she was a vision. Eliza glowered in admiration.
"And now, it's off to dinner, Tomboy," Coco purred, and led
Eliza from the bedroom.
|| Chapter 9
Dinner was in
the smallest of the mansion's formal dining rooms. The
large table was arranged for four in the very middle with one of
the pairs of chairs on one side set unusually close
together. Silver candelabras and subdued overhead lighting
set the mood. The tableware was exquisite (and no doubt
hideously expensive and possibly of historical/cultural
value). Eliza was impressed... begrudgingly.
Pepper was present, wearing an exquisite cocktail dress in red,
similar to her older sister's royal-blue number. Maybe
they got a two-for-one deal at Overpriced-R-Us, Eliza
silently sniped as she stared at Pepper's pretty skin, bulging
cleavage, and welcoming, dimpled, and truly infuriating
smile. The Lady in Red was sipping what was probably a
martini from a conventional cocktail glass. Eliza wasn't
into mixed drinks, but this one had the required
green-olive-impaled-on-a-fancy-toothpick garnish, so she assumed
it was a martini.
Also present (and sipping a similar martini) was Tippi, and what
she was wearing caused Eliza to temporarily drop her Angry
Tomboy persona and stare in open amazement (and/or
Tippi was stunning! Her gown or dress or sheath or
whatever the fashionistas call such things was white, or pearl,
or maybe even platinum-silver, and had a ton of
sequins. It also had narrow shoulder straps, hugged
Tippi's torso, came to her mid-thighs, and the skirt was covered
with swaying fringe of the same sparkly stuff as the
sequins. Pencil-skirt? Maybe, but it was way too
fancy... and Art Deco... like something out of the 1920's, the
notorious Jazz Age. And with her new Lulu-bob and the
addition of a very long string of pearls... Tippi looked
Eliza's bestie was also decidedly not bound and/or
gagged in any way! No ropes, duct-tape, steel cuffs, etc.,
etc. Tippi was totally free! What's up with
that? Eliza was mystified.
Tippi squealed in greeting, rapidly padded over to Eliza, gave
her a tight hug (carefully, so as not to spill her martini),
then took a step back. "Eliza! You look gorgeous!"
she gushed. "Here." She held the glass to Eliza's
Eliza took a sip. She confirmed the drink was indeed a
martini of some sort, and was delicious... Slurp!
"I'll get you one!" Tippi added, then spun on her bare heels and
padded to the bar set up on the dining room's side tables.
Eliza realized they were all barefoot. They should be
wearing ridiculously overpriced but stunningly beautiful high
heeled shoes carefully chosen to match or complement the rest of
their respective overpriced but stunningly beautiful outfits,
but they were all barefoot, which was just as well as far as
Eliza was concerned. She wasn't a big fan of blisters,
corns, sore toes, or falling off broken heels and
crippling herself for life.
A bright smile on her bright red lips, the fringe on her dress
swaying (as was her string of pearls), Tippi returned with a
loaded martini glass in each hand—but before she could give
Eliza another sip of booze, Coco snatched the glass from her
"Thank you, darling," Coco purred, then took the sip
herself. "Go help Pepper serve the food." She then
held the glass to Eliza's lips so she could drink.
"Twenty-three skidoo!" Tippi giggled. Then, looking every
inch the Jazz Age flapper, playfully danced her way to the
kitchen, pausing to sip her martini when she was halfway there.
"You look amazing, Tomboy!" Pepper called to Eliza as she
followed close on Tippi's heels.
The door to the kitchen swung closed, and Eliza and Coco were
"I may have to cut her off," Coco chuckled as she shared the
martini with Eliza, "meaning Tippi. What do you think?"
Eliza's glower had returned, and it was her only answer.
"If you promise to be polite and not spoil the evening," Coco
purred, "I'll deactivate your collar."
Eliza stared daggers for few more seconds, then heaved a sigh
"Good Tomboy," Coco chuckled, then reached down her
cleavage, pulled out what Eliza recognized as the compact,
rubberized remote control for her obedience-collar, pressed a
button, then returned it back down her cleavage to the no doubt
warm and cozy safety of her bosom.
Eliza continued scowling. If this was a prank and the
collar wasn't really deactivated, she'd be well and
truly furious, as opposed to just charmingly
grumpy. "Thank you," she said in a near whisper, and her
neck wasn't zapped. Coco was true to her word.
"You're welcome, Tomboy," responded, took another sip of
martini, then held the glass for Eliza to do the same. "My
question about tipsy Tippi was genuine."
"She's not a booze hound, if that's what you're wondering,"
Eliza said. "She's not much of a drinker at all.
Neither of us are. I enjoy the occasional beer, of
Coco smiled. "Fosters, the superlative, signature
lager of Oz?"
Very funny, Eliza silently fumed. "She does seem
a little, uh, happy... Tippi, I mean."
"My sister mixes a potent vodka martini," Coco purred.
"Well, dinner will be roasted red snapper and linguine in red
clam sauce, plus the usual soup, salad, and dessert, all
delivered by a very talented catering friend of mine...
who has already gone home, in case you're wondering."
Eliza's stomach rumbled. She'd been busy being bound,
gagged and/or obedience-collared, witnessing restrained
hair-styling, and/or languishing for most of the day and had
missed lunch. "I could eat," she admitted.
Coco's dimpled smile widened. "Excellent."
|| Chapter 9
excellent. Every course, from soup (consommé) to
dessert (crème brûlée!), was delicious. But then,
every meal since the girls had arrived at the mansion had been
delicious. Why should a catered "special occasion" be any
different? As Eliza's fingers and hands were currently
occupied with the task of being fist-mummies, Coco sat close to
Eliza's side and helped her clear her plate, or rather plates,
as all the various courses, each on or in their very own plates
or bowls, were carried to the table by Pepper and Tippi.
Eliza maintained her sullen persona, but it was a challenge,
mainly because of Tippi. Eliza's partner and fellow
prisoner (though not at the moment) was downright bubbly, more
or less having the time of her life. She was quite
obviously proud of her new hairdo, smiling, laughing (mostly
giggling), turning her head, and actually posing, always showing
her Lulu-bob to its best advantage—at least that's what Eliza
thought Tippi thought she was doing. It was making keeping
a straight face, much less a sullen face, somewhat
difficult. Tippi was also flirting with
Pepper. Nothing overt, of course, but the way she smiled
at the junior Vespini and batted her eyes and paid rapt
attention to every word out of Pepper's mouth... Okay,
maybe it was overt. And she also kept smiling and
winking in Eliza's direction. Whatever she was up
to, it was disgusting (and hilarious), and was throwing Eliza
off her game.
There was casual dinner conversation, but not about anything
that mattered, like what the heck Tippi actually did last night
to deserve the punishment-coif that she was treating like her
reward-coif? Obviously, it had been something
significant, so why wasn't Tippi whimpering and blinking her
eyes, as opposed to posing and batting her eyes... and
flirting. Eliza couldn't make sense of her
bestie's behavior. She realized she was missing vital
intelligence. And what was going to happen now...
meaning tonight? And when was Coco going to stop all this
nonsense, give her consent, and let them move on to the
Eliza continued glowering and staring daggers, but her heart
wasn't in it. She was... discombobulated... one of her
least favorite conditions.
Finally, the food was over, Pepper and Tippi had cleared the
table, and were in the kitchen, probably loading the
dishwasher. For the moment, Eliza and Coco had the dining
room to themselves. Eliza decided to confront her problem
head on, which is difficult to do when she had no real idea what
her problem might actually be (other than lack of
intel). Her best tactic was to start with a quiet,
stealthy, probing patrol, then work her way up to reconnaissance
Eliza cleared her throat. "Ahem. About what Tippi
did last night... I'm sorry."
Coco was smiling (as usual), and savoring an after dinner
liqueur of some sort. She took a sip, then held the tiny
glass to Eliza's lips so she could as well.
"That's good," Eliza conceded. "What is it?"
"Vermouth amaro," Coco answered, "and I accept your
apology, even though Tippi was the transgressor and you don't
even know what she did. Unless Tippi told you. Did
Eliza shook her head and her scowl became a pouting frown.
"No, she didn't... and it's driving me crazy."
"I see," Coco purred. Obviously, she was enjoying the
situation. "Well... actually... Pepper and I have
discussed this very issue—meaning your ignorance of your
charming friend's transgressive behavior—and have decided the
best remedy would be with a little demonstration."
That isn't at all ominous... much.
"D-demonstration?" Eliza stammered.
"We may as well get started." She downed the remaining amaro
in one gulp, then took Eliza by the arm and led her from the
dining room. "Pepper will be along to help," she added,
"when she's finished with the cleanup and has put Tippi to bed."
Eliza couldn't think of anything to say, so she didn't
respond. She did resume nervously blinking, however.
Their destination was Coco's luxurious bedroom, specifically,
her generous walk-in closet. Once inside, Coco commenced
the task of stripping her young house guest to the skin.
Removing the scandalous, sexy, and hideously expensive gown was
the first step. That was easy. Next she unlocked or
unlatched or did something to remove the
diamond-bling-cuffs from Eliza's wrists. The black
"opera-mitts" were next. She rolled them down Eliza's
arms, exposing her fist-mummies of black latex tape as they came
free. Coco then produced a pair of bandage-scissors from
someplace and carefully snipped her way through the
fist-mummies, starting on the left.
Eliza watched as her hostess sliced open the left mummy...
peeled the ruined sheath from her clenched hand... then started
on the right mummy. It was her first time getting a good
look at the encasements, as until now they'd been mostly behind
her back, and just as she'd suspected, Coco had done a
stellar job of wrapping her fists. The overlapping
layers were uniform and smooth, or rather they had been.
Her hands were now free, also tingly and moist with sweat.
Eliza's bondage was now reduced to the inert obedience-collar
still locked around her neck (and her desire not to ruin her
chance of talking Coco into the planned interviews). The
scissors were gone, and in their place Coco held a modest coil
of white, 4mm diameter paracord. Eliza watched (frowned)
as Coco released the coil and prepared it for use. Enough
"No," Eliza huffed.
"Trust me, Tomboy," Coco chuckled. "I have my way of doing
things, and besides..." She reached down the front of her
gown and pulled out the remote-control for Eliza's collar.
"I'm still in control of the situation, by which I mean I'm in
control of you, and you know how much I enjoy being in
Eliza stared at Coco's thumb, poised over the rubber-clad
remote's red button, the button that, unless she was mistaken,
would give her a disciplinary/motivational zap if
pressed. She heaved an appropriately profound and
resentful sigh. "In front or behind?"
"Behind, of course," Coco purred. Her dimpled smile had
never been more infuriating.
Eliza spun on her bare heels and crossed her wrists behind her
back and atop her butt. She stared at infinity in solemn
disapproval as Coco's doubled cord tightened around and between
her wrists in every way possible, was cinched tight, and a knot
tied on the side of the bindings away from her newly mobile
fingers. She knew she might was well still be sporting
fist-mummies for all the good her fingers and hands would do
her. There was no way she'd be able to reach the knot, no
matter how hard she tried.
"A neat job," Coco said, "if I do say so myself. Down."
Still glowering at the theoretical horizon, Eliza sank to her
"All the way, Tomboy," Coco ordered. "Tits and tummy on
Eliza flopped down on her stomach (and boobs) as ordered.
Meanwhile, Coco had found a generous coil of white, ¼" diameter,
braided nylon rope and was preparing it for use.
She knelt at Eliza's side and set to work.
A surprisingly short time later, Eliza found herself in a simple
but stringent hogtie. Her shoulders were yoked, her upper
arms pinned to her torso, her ankles crossed and bound, her
knees splayed and bent, and her ankle-bonds linked to the back
of the body-harness, between her shoulder blades. Her
crossed ankles were directly over her crossed wrists and a
single doubled loop of rope was cinched around both, binding
them together. Another doubled loop was around her elbows,
but not too tightly. It was part of the
shoulders-to-ankles hogtie-rope-system, and was totally
unnecessary (in Eliza's fuming opinion). Anyway, her
shoulders were pulled back, her ankles pulled forward, and she
was balanced on her tummy with her nipples just brushing
"There," Coco sighed. "One final touch."
"Mrrrpfh!" A ball-gag had miraculously appeared and was
now plugging Eliza's indignant mouth! Truly furious, the
naked, hogtied captive fought her bonds with all her
strength. It was an exercise in anger and futility.
Coco had done her usual competent job of rendering her totally
Meanwhile, Coco had stood and relocated herself to the open
closet door. "Aren't you a picture," she purred, smiling
at the still furiously squirming Eliza. "But enough with
the unladylike noise." Still smiling, she produced the
collar remote, pointed it in Eliza's glaring direction, and
pressed a button.
"Mrrr-urk!" Eliza's eyes popped wide, she froze in
her bonds, and most emphatically stopped testing the
ball-gag. Her larynx had received a serious shock.
Okay, it wasn't that painful, no more than before, but
obviously the insidious device was back on duty. Mewling
insulting commentary was now out of the question. Bitch!
"Such a picture," Coco purred, then returned the remote
to her cleavage. "Now, wait here while Pepper and I
complete our preparations for the demonstration." She
turned off the closet lights, plunging Eliza and the closet into
darkness. Silhouetted in the threshold of the closet door,
one hand on the doorknob, Coco continued smiling at her naked,
hogtied, ball-gagged, and collar-silenced young prisoner.
"I do hope Pepper and I don't get distracted by
something and I forget you're in here," she said, then pulled
the door closed.
Eliza squirmed in her bonds, blinked at the close darkness, but
most emphatically did not try forcing futile complaints
past the ball-gag tightly strapped in her drooling mouth.
Bitch, she silently fumed, once again, but this time her
heart wasn't really in it. She was worried. Worried,
naked, and helpless. I hope the Vespinis won't be
doing something horrible to poor Tippi, she thought.
|| Chapter 9
"This is horrible!"
Tippi exclaimed, then executed a delicate shudder and heaved a
truly tragic sigh, neither of which served to in any way
ameliorate her current condition. They did, however, cause
her new Lulu-bob to sway in an attractive and evocative fashion.
"I'm just making sure you don't get into any mischief while I'm
away," Pepper explained. She was still dressed in the red
cocktail dress she'd worn to dinner and was smiling the dimpled
(sinister) smile she wore more-or-less all the time.
Tippi was no longer wearing the silver-white "flapper dress"
she'd worn to dinner. In point of fact, the disgruntled,
no longer happy and carefree little brunette was wearing
nothing, other than the innumerable, intricate strands of white,
¼" diameter, braided nylon rope binding her body.
They were in Pepper's luxurious bedroom, Tippi was seated in a
straight-back wooden chair facing Pepper's luxurious king-size
bed, and Pepper was standing at her side and gloating like the
wicked villainess she had long since revealed herself to be.
And it was true! Who but a truly wicked villainess would
order her beautiful and charming young house guest to strip
naked? Then would help her strip naked when she
seemed reluctant to do so? And then would produce
an alarming quantity of the aforementioned white, ¼" diameter,
braided nylon rope, all in neatly hitched coils? Next,
adding perfidy to turpitude, Pepper used a single coil of said
rope to bind Tippi's wrists behind her back, palm-to-palm, then
led her to the attached bath and ruthlessly forced her
to conduct her evening toilette, providing assistance when
And then, they returned to the main bedroom and Pepper, using more
rope, bound Tippi's naked limbs and body from shoulders to
ankles! Tight, multiple strands pressed her elbows
together, pulling her shoulders back and thrusting her tits
forward! More strands pinned her upper arms to her sides,
encircled her waist and forearms, pinned her already bound
wrists against her butt, hips, and lower tummy, and tied her
legs together at her mid thighs, above and below her knees, her
mid lower legs, ankles! And then (using white, 3 mm
diameter nylon cord) Pepper tied Eliza's big toes together—which
was just plain mean, in the naked martyr's
opinion. And then, Pepper used a second length of
the same cord to bind Eliza's thumbs together, which was way
mean. And she wasn't through!
Switching back to ¼" rope, Pepper added a tight, restrictive
diamond-hitch overlay of diagonal, interlaced strands from
Tippi's shoulders all the way down to her feet. She
explained it was a Kikkou karada (not that Tippi was in
the mood for Japanese language lessons), and whatever it was
called, the tight lattice really intensified Tippi's
helplessness! Okay, truth be told, the added diamond web
was pretty, but totally superfluous. At some point,
helpless is helpless, and Eliza had crossed that threshold well
before getting her toes and thumbs tied or the
what-ever-it-was-called harness was added.
And then, Pepper helped her sit in the aforementioned
straight-back chair and used the remaining rope to make sure she
stayed there. When she finally finished, she took
a step to the side, crossed her arms under her boobs, and smiled
(gloated) at her victim.
"Where are you going?" Tippi demanded.
Tippi squirmed in her bonds and heaved another sigh. "You
said you'd be 'away' just now. So where are you going?"
"I have to help my sister with something," Pepper purred.
"You'll be alright like this 'til I get back."
Tippi continued squirming, but from shoulders to ankles, she was
one with the chair. Actually, she was using all her
strength to escape Pepper's ropes (and cords), but her
efforts only came across as a little futile squirming.
"This is horrible!" Tippi reiterated. "No, I won't
be 'alright.' I won't be 'alright' at all.
This is mean!"
"Yes... it is, isn't it?" Pepper agreed, then spun on her heels
and padded into the walk-in closet.
"Ohhh," Tippi complained, resuming her useless escape
Pepper returned from the closet with a long, narrow strip of
white, satin-like cloth fluttering from her right hand.
Tippi watched with a sullen pout as Pepper tied an elaborate,
rose-shaped knot in the center of the strip. She knew what
was coming. It was obvious, unnecessary, and mean!
"You don't need to gag me," Tippi whined.
"I'm a meanie, remember?" Pepper purred, then thrust the knot
into Tippi's mouth, cinched the cloth at the nape of her neck,
then proceeded to wrap the long free ends around and across
Tippi's mouth from either side. The first left and right
passes constituted a mouth-filling cleave-gag that more-or-less
forced Tippi's jaws fully apart and compressed the rose-knot
stuffing. The next two passes reinforced the cleave-gag,
but the final two were of the over-the-mouth variety, covering
the underlying layers and Tippi's lower face from just under her
nose to the tip of her chin. Tippi was now well and truly
gagged, and she didn't like it!
"Mrmpfh!" Tippi squirmed and shook her head and did her
best to stare Eliza-style daggers in Pepper's gloating
"Poor Tippi," Pepper purred. "I confess I am, indeed, in a
very mean mood. The way you posed and flaunted
your pretty new hairdo for me all evening? It made me
horny, and you knew just what you were doing. Didn't you,
you little flirt?"
Tippi stopped squirming and her brown doe eyes popped wide above
her gag. Horny?
Pepper stepped behind Tippi and her chair, leaned close, reached
around her naked captive's bound body with both hands, and squeezed
"Mrrrrr," Tippi complained (but truth be told it was more of a
moan than a complaint). Her nipples swelled erect under
Pepper's massaging fingers. Little traitors!
Pepper's smiling mouth was less than an inch from Tippi's right
ear. "I may be a while... helping my sister, I
mean." Her hands and fingers continued massaging,
squeezing, and caressing Tippi's breasts and nipples. "I
confess I'm rather tired. It's been an eventful day,
hasn't it, my cute little Schoolgirl? Anyway, when I
return, I may just crawl into bed and turn out the lights."
"Mrrrrr." Tippi shivered in her bonds and squeezed her
eyes closed. Pepper's smooth, strong hands were being very
mean (by which she meant arousing).
"However," Pepper continued, "if I have any energy left, I'll
untie enough of your pretty ropes that you can hop to the bed
and join me under the covers. We'll see. But don't
expect much if we do share the bed. I really am
And with that, Pepper released Tippi's breasts and padded from
the bedroom, turning out the lights as she left, as well as
closing and locking the bedroom door. Click!
Alone in the darkness, Tippi heaved a disappointed sigh, then
settled in to wait—and by disappointed, she meant outraged
and/or horrified, of course, not aroused and/or horny.
Meanie! I hope whatever 'help' she's gonna give Coco
isn't them being mean to Eliza. She then closed her
eyes, heaved a final sigh, gave her inescapable bonds one last
halfhearted squirm, and settled in to try and take a nap.
Like Pepper-the-Meanie, Tippi had had an eventful and tiring
||Trying New Things