|by Van © 2018
This was supposed to be my entry in a contest at the "CeeAyBee" deviantART site, but the contest never happened & for some reason he decided to block me. (???) I've learned to live with it, life goes on, & now UNTITLED PROJECT is just another VAN's FiCTiON story.
This is a work of erotic (IMHO) &/or fantasy fiction.
Long-term bondage & gaggage is DANGEROUS!
Prolonged tickle torture is NO LAUGHING MATTER!
A Damsel is a Terrible Thing to Waste!
And so, to any sadistic billionaires reading this...
DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME!
And that goes for the rest of you sickos as well!
Somewhere near the equator
(but good luck finding it on any map)
Sadista executed a graceful jackknife and dove for the bottom. Shoals of colorful fish swam around and through the coral labyrinth that was the reef—Sadista's reef. The brightly hued and/or boldly patterned fishes were unaware of their status as the property of an eccentric multi-billionaire, but they were her property, as were the untold billions of individual coral polyps and countless other underwater lifeforms of the reef ecosystem, as were the flora and fauna of the island above, as was the island itself. Isla Pluma and its surrounding waters were Sadista's personal property, one of several isolated vacation homes, retreats, and/or lairs she owned across the globe.
Her fit, curvaceous, undeniably feminine body cut through the water as she descended into the blue depths. She was wearing a decidedly skimpy string bikini, swim fins, a dive mask, and snorkel, and a stainless steel diving knife in a rubber sheath was strapped to her right lower leg. Except for the steel elements of her snorkeling equipment, everything was in shades of mauve, Sadista's favorite color. Her skin was tan, smooth and, in a word—perfect—if she did say so herself, and any objective human observer would agree. As for the fish, who knows?
Eventually, Sadista tired of playing tag with the fishies, the surface called (especially the air beyond), and she kicked for the surface, filled her lungs, and swam for the island.
Isla Pluma was small, just big enough for a central, rippling ridge of volcanic rock, and was private (very private), isolated, otherwise uninhabited, and sported all the venues Sadista considered de rigeur for tropical outdoor entertainment. To wit:
Sandy beaches—Suitable for burying damsels with only their heads and bare, ticklish feet exposed.Yes, Sadista loved Isla Pluma. If she didn't also love her ancient castles (one in Spain and another in Wales), her stately Gothic mansions (one in Devonshire and another in Maine), and her Manhattan skyscraper (with its luxurious penthouse and dungeons/playrooms in the sub-basement), she'd stay on the island year round.
Green jungles—Perfect for hunting naked, bound, and gagged damsels fleeing for their lives (or their virtues, anyway).
Mangrove swamp—Fun with quicksand!
Rocky seaside cliffs with crashing waves—Add a few chains and naked damsels could cosplay Andromeda.
Directly opposite this particular section of the reef were tall, craggy cliffs, and Sadista was kicking towards a house-sized gap in the black boulders. It was the entrance to a sea cave, and beyond was a circular basin surrounded by more tall cliffs on all sides. There was also a crescent-shaped beach opposite the cave, and that was the swimming billionaire's destination.
Tucked back against the vertical, rocky face and above the beach was a gazebo-like shelter, and a set of stairs climbed the cliff to the lowest balcony of the main estate. A small dock and boathouse sheltered a Zodiac Medline 850 rigid inflatable boat (marine gray with custom mauve accents), and an expanse of camouflage netting covered and semi-shaded the entire basin, rendering it invisible from the air. Also, all the structures in the basin—and on the entire island, for that matter—were constructed from local materials, draped with vines, and designed to blend into the landscape. Even the communications tower at the summit of the island's central peak was painted in jungle colors, draped with netting, and could easily be missed by the casual pilot.
The depths turned increasingly turquoise as the bottom of the basin's lagoon gradually climbed to the beach, and finally, Sadista removed her flippers, planted her bare feet, and strode from the gently lapping water and onto the warm sand.
Isla Pluma's only permanent resident was waiting with a large, fluffy towel. Her name was Toni Hess, but she sometimes tolerated the nickname of "Tank," a sobriquet she'd earned virtue of being built like one, meaning a battle tank, not any sort of storage tank. That is, Toni was physically fit, very physically fit. She was also expert in several martial arts, as well as being an accomplished rock climber, runner, and diver. One might quip that Toni's muscles had muscles; however, she was anything but musclebound, and was undeniably feminine. Toni had both muscles and curves. She also had sun-bleached, blond hair, blue eyes, and a deep, rich tan. At the moment her only clothing was a metallic gold string-bikini as skimpy as her employer's.
"Your first guest is in the air," Toni announced as her employer dried her hair.
"Excellent," Sadista purred, then removed her sheathed diver's knife and handed it to her employee. "How soon?"
"My best guess is a little more than an hour," Toni answered as she gathered Sadista's mask, snorkel, and swim fins to be rinsed and hung to dry. "The pilot said he's bucking a slight headwind."
"All is in readiness?" Sadista inquired.
Toni favored her boss with a wounded smile. "Please. You have to ask?"
Sadista couldn't help but grin. "I feel like a toddler on Christmas morning!" she gushed.
"Understandable," Toni chuckled. "I've seen three of her movies. Singapore Sling?"
"Of course," Sadista purred. "You have to ask?"
Toni smiled, turned, and headed for the gazebo/shelter and its fully-equipped bar.
Despite the padded headphones covering Maddy Rynsburger's ears, the sound of the seaplane's two turboprop engines were constant and omnipresent, powerful enough to vibrate the entire cabin of the Dornier Seastar. Maddy was the seaplane's sole passenger. Comfortably strapped into one of the aft cabin's plush seats, she could see the shoulders and the backs of the heads of the pilot and copilot on the flight deck, and had reasonable views of the ocean through the side windows, but was increasingly bored. Thus far they'd been flying over the ocean for two hours and—she glanced at her wristwatch—forty-five minutes. Maddy resisted the urge to thumb the "talk" button on the cord of her headphones and ask for an update on their ETA. No one likes answering "Are we there yet?"-type questions, and the flight crew, handsome in their white tropical uniforms (with shorts and knee-socks) had thus far had been pleasant and polite. She might have tried taking a nap or getting some work done, but she wasn't sleepy, and with respect to work, at the moment she had nothing to work on.
Maddy was famous and successful, with acting, directing, and production credits that had earned several industry awards. She had no difficulty finding work. Exactly the opposite, in fact. There were no shortage of studios wanting her to take part in one their productions, on both sides of the camera; however, this time, and based on minimal information, she'd agree to listen to a pitch for an "untitled project." In fact, she'd agreed to fly across the globe and was still flying, droning through the air above a seemingly endless expanse of blue water.
Why? It had been the proverbial offer Maddy couldn't refuse, taking the form of a nonrefundable development fee of $130,000 that was already deposited in her bank account, and with the promise of millions more (to be negotiated) to follow if she agreed to the project. She'd had to sign a nondisclosure agreement, but that was par for the course for a "tent-pole project" a studio expected to gross in the billions and possibly spawn a film franchise. Letting her potential collaborator make all of the travel arrangements and require her not to divulge her itinerary to friends, family, and coworkers was a bit unusual, but the degree of near-paranoia surrounding the proposal led Maddy to suspect she just might be onto something really big.
Anyway, she'd agree to the secrecy, packed for the tropics (as per instructions)... and here she was.
Suddenly, the pilot's voice sounded in Maddy's headphones. "We've begun our descent, Ms. Rynsburger," he announced, "and should be on the beach in about ten minutes."
Maddy thumbed her "talk" button to respond. "Thank you." She leaned to the left, peered ahead out the window, and saw that they were approaching a small tropical island. She assumed it was the location of the unnamed "vacation home" of her mysterious and also unnamed would-be collaborator. She supposed she might have noticed earlier, if the seaplane's heading hadn't been directly towards the island. In any case, Maddy's long, tiresome, "secret" journey was almost at an end.
The seaplane landed on relatively still waters, then taxied through an opening in the island's fringe reef and towards a broad, sandy beach. Maddy never managed to get a really good look at her destination, but was somewhat surprised to see no sign of the usual pier and outbuildings. Nor was there a sleepy tropical fishing village, a laid back vacation resort, or a stately white Victorian mansion. As far as she could tell, they were approaching a totally deserted island. Perhaps the so called 'vacation home' is on the far side of the island, Maddy reasoned, and we're landing here because of sea conditions. As the bow of the seaplane surged up onto the sands, she finally could see evidence of human habitation. A twenty-foot flagpole up near the edge of the jungle supported an international orange windsock that was wafting in the breeze.
Maddy was able to deplane with dry feet, but only just. Her high heeled sandals dangling from her left hand and the copilot with a firm hold on her right to hold her steady, she stepped off the sponson, or float, or whatever they called the streamlined blisters on the lower fuselage that added flotation and stability to the seaplane, and down onto the damp sand.
"Thank you for using 'Flying Feather Air'," the copilot said with a grin and a casual salute.
Flying Feather? Maddy wondered, but flashed her winning smile anyway. "Thank you," she replied, then turned to find a striking woman striding in their direction from the jungle. Her had blond hair and a stunning, athletic, deeply tanned body.
"Hello, Ms. Rynsburger," the blonde said, smiling and shaking Maddy's hand. "I'm Toni. Welcome to Isla Pluma. Ms. Sadie sent me to meet you." She then caught the first of Maddy's two expensive leather bags the copilot was tossing from the seaplane door.
"Call me Maddy," Maddy responded. "Let me take that," she offered, then took the first bag from Toni.
Two seconds later the bikini-clad blonde caught the second bag. "This way," she said, pointing to the jungle. "There's going to be a bit of a sandstorm when the seaplane departs."
"Lead the way," Maddy said, then waved goodbye at the pilot and copilot and padded up the gently sloping beach, following Toni towards the orange windsock.
They followed a sandy trail through a grove of palm trees, under an increasingly dense jungle canopy, and towards a four-passenger all terrain vehicle (ATV) with balloon tires. It was painted in two different shades of jungle-green (with a magenta "racing stripe" and seat cushion accents), but wasn't actually camouflaged. Toni pointed to the cargo basket in the rear, they deposited Maddy's bags, and Toni quickly secured a net of bungee cords to secure them in place. They then climbed into the driver and front passenger seats, respectively, secured their shoulder and lap-belts, and Toni turned the key.
For an instant, Maddy thought the ATV had a ridiculously overpowered engine, then realized the seaplane had restarted its engines. She looked back through the trees and watched the plane back off the beach and onto the water. Toni had been right about the "sandstorm." The closest palm fronds and lower branches of the trees at the jungle's edge fluttered in the prop-wash from the reversed engines, and the orange windsock was absolutely frantic
Toni put the ATV in gear and they were off. The trail was sandy and reasonably wide and the trees began to whizz by as they picked up speed.
"Ms. Sadie's home is on the other side of the island?" Maddy inquired.
"No," Toni answered. "It's not far, just not very visible from the air... or from the sea, for that matter."
"I see," Maddy said. Actually, she didn't see, but assumed she soon would.
The drone of the now unseen seaplane faded and was finally lost in the purr of the ATV's engine. The tropical foliage continued flashing by as they rolled down the trail. At first, sunlight dappled the sandy track, the ATV, and its passengers. Then, the canopy thickened even further and the trail became more of a deeply shaded green tunnel.
The rapid but surprisingly smooth journey continued for another minute... then they left the trees, flashed across a grassy clearing, and entered a real tunnel.
Actually, Maddy decided she was in a natural cave, with electric lights overhead and reflectors mounted on the walls. The sand under the ATV's rolling tires gave way to smooth stone and a gently climbing ramp. Finally, they entered a large area being used as a garage. Toni parked in an empty slot between a second, identical ATV and a light truck with a similar paint job, and off to the side was a two-seat ATV that was actually camouflaged.
Maddy released her belt and stepped into her high-heeled sandals as Toni released released the cargo net and picked up both of Maddy's bags (as if they weighed nothing). Toni led the way to an elevator, Maddy pressed the only button on the control panel, the doors opened, and they entered the wood-paneled car. The doors closed and the car began its ascent.
Maddy was dressed in a lightweight linen suit suitable for business, a tan skirt and jacket over a sleeveless white blouse with a generous (and cooling) décolletage; but despite her attire, she was increasingly uncomfortable. The island air was hot and humid, and in the absence of the proverbial tropical breeze, close. Maddy had begun sweating as soon as she'd left the air conditioned "comfort" of the seaplane's cabin, and knew she needed to change her blouse (and lose the jacket).
The elevator doors opened—and Maddy found herself in the Great Room of a luxurious, spacious, multi-storied, and expensively decorated tropical villa. Window walls provided magnificent jungle and ocean vistas, and planters on the railings of various cantilevered interior balconies held cascading, flowering vines.
And then, suddenly, Maddy was face-to-face with an attractive woman dressed in a mauve bikini and a whisper-thin sarong in a batik print (mostly mauve with blue-green and burnt-orange accents). Almost certainly her hostess, the woman was forty-something, undeniably beautiful, and in very good shape. She wasn't as athletic as Toni, but had good muscle tone and a low body-fat index. Maddy's yoga instructors and trainers would approve. The woman also had mauve highlights in her hair, mauve eye-makeup, and mauve lipstick. (Smiling to herself, Maddy made a mental note to inquire as to the woman's favorite color once they were introduced.)
"Maddy Rynsburger," the woman gushed with a welcoming smile. "I'm Sadie. I hope you had a pleasant flight."
"Yes, thank you," Maddy replied (lied).
Meanwhile, Toni was carrying Maddy's luggage across the Great Room. Sadie made a sweeping gesture and they followed.
"I'm sure you're fatigued after your journey," Sadie said, "and while I'm anxious to begin our negotiations, I would be a poor hostess, indeed, if I didn't afford you an opportunity to shower and change. Did you bring a swimsuit?"
"Yes, I did," Maddy answered.
"Wonderful," Sadie purred. "When you're ready, please meet me on the beach for drinks and a swim. Toni will show you the way."
"There's an intercom in your room," Toni called back over her shoulder. "Press the 'call' button and I'll answer as quickly as I can."
"Uh, thanks," Maddy responded.
They arrived at a large bedroom with an attached bath and a balcony overlooking the ocean. It was total luxury, like a room in a five-star hotel. Like everything Maddy had seen so far, the decor was tropical and in exquisite taste. The sliding glass door to the balcony was open, allowing a gentle breeze to pass through the intervening screen door and stir the air.
"Take your time, Maddy," Sadie purred. "In fact, take a nap if you wish. We'll talk whenever you're ready."
"Thanks again," Maddy said as her hostess departed. Toni smiled and left the suite as well, closing the door behind her.
I have to think of more clever lines than 'thank you', Maddy mused as she began undressing. She assumed she'd have many opportunities for eloquence once negotiations began. Her clothing reduced to bra and panties (and feeling cooler already), Maddy hung her skirt and jacket in the suite's generous closet and dropped her blouse in a laundry hamper. (Laundry service was a given. She wouldn't have to inquire.) Now nude, she padded into the attached bathroom. Like the main bedroom, it was the height of tropical luxury. There were the usual washbasin and commode, a Japanese-style soaking tub, and a rather unusual shower stall.
The stall in question was free-standing and circular. That is, it was a ceiling to floor glass cylinder about five feet in diameter with a curved, sliding door set in a rubberized track. An unusually large, rain-style shower fixture was mounted in the ceiling directly above a wide drain, and the floor was frosted, irregularly shaped seaglass tiles set in a random mosaic. As Maddy opened the stall door, she realized the glass of the enclosure was quite thick, something like half an inch, and might not be glass at all, but some sort of acrylic. She stepped into the stall, slid the door closed, then focused on the LCD touch-screen control panel flush-mounted in a brushed, stainless steel panel. Below the screen was a recessed dispenser for liquid soap.
Maddy touched the screen's "ON" button and a brisk rain began to fall. There was a virtual sliding-bar temperature control on the screen, but from the beginning the stream was quite comfortable. Maddy luxuriated under the cascading torrent... then dispensed a dab of soap onto her hands and began running them over her body and through her hair, raising suds that streamed down her smooth, glistening curves to disappear down the drain. Satisfied that her skin and hair were clean, Maddy slid her right index finger along a second virtual slide-bar from "RAIN" to "MONSOON" and the cascade intensified to just that, a veritable monsoon of blood-temperature water.
Thoroughly rinsed, clean, and refreshed, Maddy tapped the "OFF" button and the watery torrent abruptly stopped. She put her head back and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, sopping wet curls, then reached over to open the sliding glass door.
That was her intent, anyway.
Maddy had a firm hold on the curved portal's streamlined handle, but it didn't budge. She pulled harder, still with no result. Maddy checked to see if there was some sort of thumb-latch or pressure bar on the handle she'd missed, but there was nothing. The door didn't even shake in its rubber gaskets as she tugged with her full strength.
Obviously, something was wrong with the damn door. Maddy considered screaming for help, but what was the point? She turned back to the touch screen, in the faint hope of finding an "OPEN DOOR" button she'd missed earlier, but the screen was now blank. Also...
Maddy blinked in confusion. She suddenly felt very strangely fatigued... and was finding it difficult to focus. She tried the door again, with the same failed result, and this time she had difficulty even grasping the smooth, wet, stainless steel of the handle. Her fingers were inexplicably weak. Also, her knees were wobbly and she was afraid she might fall. With her fingers spread she braced the palms of her hands against the curved glass walls to either side... and then... slowly... carefully... settled to the wet tile floor.
The bathroom beyond the dripping glass was going in and out of focus. Something was definitely... wrong. Maddy decided she might try screaming for help after all. Instead, she closed her eyes and slumped into nude, dripping wet unconsciousness.
Then, the bathroom door opened and Toni entered the humid space. She was still wearing her metallic gold string-bikini, but had added an unusual accessory in the form of a gasmask. She smiled through the glass faceplate, slid open the shower stall door (without difficulty), stooped and lifted Maddy into her arms (also without difficulty), and carried the naked, wet, unconscious beauty from the bathroom.
Maddy opened her eyes.
Something was wrong.
She tried lifting her right hand, intending it to use it to shield her eyes from the bright lights glaring in her face from directly overhead—but was checked by a wide band of something that tightly encircled her right wrist. She was flat on her back on a hard, smooth surface with her legs splayed about two feet apart. Her arms were raised with her hands even with her head, also about two feet apart.
Something was very wrong.
Maddy squinted and looked to her right. The something trapping her wrist was a tight-fitting band of wide, thick, black nylon webbing similar to an automobile seat belt. Her left wrist was similarly restrained... as were her left and right ankles. She kicked and tugged on the cuffs, but made no progress towards freeing herself. She finally realized she was spreadeagled in place and totally helpless!
Maddy found she had some freedom of motion, in that she could twist and turn her body and flail her limbs within a limited range. She craned her neck and groped with her fingers but could neither see or feel any sort of buckles, catches, or locks securing the wrist cuffs.
She was naked, as she'd been in the shower, and as her head finished clearing she remembered losing consciousness in the wet glass cylinder of the shower stall. She surmised that must have happened some time ago as her shoulder-length mop of brown hair was now completely dry, and might even have been brushed by someone. In any case, it wasn't a tangled, snarled mess.
Oh-by-the-way, another something, a skintight something, was plastered over most of her lower face, sealing her mouth. It was some sort of tape, and whatever the variety, it was smooth and quite well-adhered to her lips and skin from ear to ear and nose to chin and was well beyond the reach of her fluttering, groping fingers, no matter how she contorted her arms, groped with her hands, or stretched her neck.
She was lying on what seemed to be milky white glass, and her wrist and ankle cuffs were attached to narrow steel tracks or rails that ran along the long edges of the smooth, hard rectangular table or platform or whatever the thing was under her struggling, helpless body.
"MRRRRF!" Maddy screamed through her gag, hoping to summon some sort of help. Belatedly, it occurred to her that if somebody did respond to her inarticulate summons, releasing her bonds might be low on their agenda.
Maddy lifted her tape-gagged head, shook a few loose strands of hair from her tape-gagged face, and examined her more distant surroundings, squinting into the relative darkness beyond her brightly lit, bound, gagged, and naked body. She was in a somewhat large room with rows of stainless steel cabinets. There was also a steel deep-sink under a rubber hose coiled on a steel reel. The walls were concrete, painted flat black or dark gray.
There was also a single closed door, and as Maddy was looking at it, the door opened and a female figure was revealed, silhouetted against bright light. Maddy's eyes adjusted, and she saw it was her hostess, still wearing her mauve bikini and whisper-thin sarong.
"Oh, good," Sadie purred, "you're awake. We can begin." She crossed the threshold, closed the door behind her, and strolled towards Maddy and the table. If she was wearing shoes, they were totally silent.
"Mrrrrf!" Maddy complained. She was both frightened and angry.
Gazing down at Maddy's nude, spreadeagled body with a sinister smile, Sadie touched something on the side of the table, there was a quiet click, and the glass table took on a white, uniform glow, illuminating Maddy's spreadeagled, nude body from below, just as the spotlights illuminated her from above.
Maddy flinched when her hostess and apparent captor placed her right palm on her stomach. She tried squirming away, but couldn't dislodge Sadie's smooth, sliding hand.
"You have a remarkable body, Ms. Rynsburger," Sadie purred as she began a gentle massage of the area between Maddy's full breasts and her dark, neatly trimmed but luxuriant pubic bush. "I love your fair skin with just the slightest hint of tan-lines, and look forward to seeing how your complexion responds to the sun during your stay on Isla Pluma."
Sadie's hand continued to slide up and down across Maddy's flat, slightly sculpted abdomen. She tried to make herself a moving target, but her bonds were sufficiently stringent to render such resistance a futile exercise. "Mrrrrk!" Anger was gaining, but Maddy was still understandably afraid. Her captor appeared to be a madwoman, and she was her prisoner on a remote, isolated island, far from all apparent hope of rescue. Worse yet, as far as Maddy knew, no one even suspected she needed rescuing. Sadie had her completely at her mercy.
"You're already in excellent condition," Sadie continued, "and Toni will make sure you stay that way. She's my expert fitness trainer, as well as a talented chef, nutritionist, and physician's assistant. She'll keep you in tip-top shape and perfect health."
Maddy locked eyes with her captor. She really is crazy, Maddy decided. When they met, Maddy had decided Sadie's smile was quirky but attractive, but given her changed circumstances, quirky had given way to sinister, or possibly evil.
Sadie cupped Maddy's breasts with her two hands and gently squeezed.
"NRRRRR!" Maddy complained, bucking, squirming, and tugging on her bonds.
Sadie remained in full control, especially of her prisoner's firm, milky white breasts. "Now," Sadie said as she gently kneaded Maddy's breasts, "I brought you here to discuss a film project, and we'll get to that. But for now, let's spend some time and get better acquainted, shall we?"
"Mrrrpfh!" Maddy continued struggling and squirming, but knew it was hopeless. Sadie could do anything she wanted to her nude, bound, gagged, and spreadeagled body.
"By the way," Sadie purred, continuing to squeeze Maddy's breasts, "I confess I was lying earlier when I introduced myself as 'Sadie'. My true name, the name I've chosen to go by for my entire adult life, is actually... Sadista."