by Van © 2018
		Chapter 2

The "Fickle Feather" was a magnificent yacht.  In fact, she was classified as a super-yacht by those who care about such things.  Sleek and ultramodern, she was the ultimate in oceangoing luxury with all the amenities demanded by the discerning billionaire.  Her hull and superstructure were a glistening gunmetal gray with a mauve accent stripe running her full length.

Fickle Feather also had her secrets.

For one thing, the lagging that clad the interior of the yacht's hull not only provided thermal insulation but incorporated layers of Kevlar fabric, and certain strategically chosen areas on the weather decks were actually bulletproof.  The armory held enough Sig Sauer P320 handguns, holsters, web belts and body armor to arm the entire crew, as well as HK416 automatic rifles, a pair of Barrett M82 50-caliber sniper rifles, and a half-dozen M72 LAWs (shoulder launched missiles).  Also, the yacht's powerful suite of navigational radars were able to separate small boats from the surface clutter at an extended range.  Modern-day pirates might think Fickle Feather was a tempting target, but if they attacked they would soon find they had bitten off far more than they could chew.

There was more.

Most super-yachts don't have brigs, but Fickle Feather was very much the exception.  Down a narrow passageway on the lowest deck there were four cramped, narrow cells, each equipped with a thinly padded bench, a small commode, and a washbasin.  Everything was stainless steel—bulkheads, overhead, deck, the thick, solid door, and the spartan furnishings—everything.

At the moment only three of the cells were occupied, and had been for the last several days and nights.

So... how had this come to pass, and who were the prisoners?  Mutineers?  Stowaways?  Captured pirates?

It started as a fashionable bash for a highly selected guest list with the yacht moored to a pier at a luxurious tropical resort.  There were drinks, gourmet food, dancing, sparkling conversation, and more drinks.  A good time was had by all.

And then... three of the partygoers, all female, awoke to find themselves naked, their wrists cuffed behind their backs and attached to belly chains that were locked around their waists.  Their ankles were also locked in cuffs, separated by hobbling chains, and ball-gags pierced by half-inch breathing holes plugged their outraged, incredulous, and terrified mouths.  The gags' straps were buckled at the napes of their necks and secured by tiny, dangling padlocks.  In addition, they were locked in claustrophobic, stainless steel cells!  The constant throb of the powerful engines and the gentle rolling motion of their surroundings strongly suggested they were at sea.  It was a nightmare!

It was also a nightmare that settled into a routine.  Every morning, two members of Fickle Feather's all-female crew would drag a prisoner from her cell, up a ladder to a sunny deck on the stern, and plunk her down on a rubber pad designed for sunbathing.  The first time this happened it confirmed the obvious, that the yacht was, indeed, at sea.  There was nothing but water and sky.  No other vessels were in sight, nor was any sign of land.

The prisoner's gag was removed and she was fed a simple but nutritious meal.  All complaints and demands were ignored.  Meal over, her gag was restored, the captive was hosed down with fresh water, then dragged back to her cell.  The second prisoner received identical "service"... followed by the third.  And when the afternoon rolled around, the meal and "bath" procedure was repeated.

And who were these prisoners?
 
(◄) Charlotte James

Charlotte was a British actress, and quite famous thanks to a recurring role in a highly successful film franchise, beginning at childhood.  This was followed by a smattering of successful and semi-successful movies.  She was in her twenties with brown hair and eyes, a fair complexion, and a slender, feminine, and physically fit body with modest but shapely breasts.

Charlotte-the-captive was both furious and frightened, but she made the conscious decision not to give her captors any trouble.  She adopted a docile demeanor; however, it was very much an act (and acting was something for which she had the required talent and skill-set).  She shuffled in her inescapable steel bonds from her cell and up the ladder to the rear deck... and when her gag was removed, she did make demands and inquiries (which she knew her captors would expect) but allowed herself to be easily cowed.  She ate her meal, endured her humiliating "bath", and returned to her cell.  That is, she bided her time, gathered intelligence, waited for a chance to escape, and worried.

Amondi Obiero (►)

Amondi was a twenty-something Kenyan actress with a string of successful film credits.  Her closely cropped hair was curly and black, her eyes brown, and her skin smooth, firm, and dark.  She was both curvaceous and athletic, with firm breasts and a well-sculpted abdomen.

Amondi was a fighter, and the first time she was dragged from her cell for what turned out to be "breakfast and a bath", she fought like an enraged lioness!  And when her gag was removed, Amondi called her handlers rude names in five different languages.  Her captors took the verbal abuse with good grace (or the appearance of good grace).  Brutish thugs might have given her a good beating in retaliation, but not the amazons easily controlling her struggles.  It would seem (Amondi feared) that they knew better than to "damage the merchandise."  All too quickly, the African beauty realized she was wasting her strength and ceased her vigorous resistance, but she was not what her handlers would call cooperative.
 
(◄) Anne Knoll

An American, Anne was also in her twenties.  Her hair was long, straight, and ginger, her skin fair and prone to freckles, and her figure absolutely exquisite, with full breasts, a narrow waist, and flaring hips.  Already a successful model and singer, Anne was trying to break into acting.

Like Amondi, Anne was a fighter, and she did her very best to live up to the stereotype that all redheads are wildcats.  Unlike Amondi, Anne didn't stop fighting.  She bucked and twisted whenever she was taken from her cell and did her absolute best to make her handlers earn their paychecks.  And again unlike Amondi, Anne's fair, freckled skin would have shown every bruise in high contrast if the crew lost their tempers had decided to give the furiously struggling ginger a retaliatory beat-down.  They didn't.

On the positive side, the three prisoners weren't locked in typical ratchet-style police handcuffs.  Their steel bonds were wide and thick, with rounded edges and smooth surfaces, inside and out, and they fit their wrists and ankles with anatomical precision.  They could tug on their shackles and fetters and struggle to their hearts' content without cutting their skin.

Charlotte, Amondi, and Anne never came face-to-face as they were always taken from and returned to their cells one at a time.  All three surmised that there were at least two other prisoners, but they never saw each other, only their handlers.  However, the steel bulkheads separating the cells weren't soundproof.  They could hear their fellow captives mewling through their gags and/or rattling their chains when they were taken from their cells, but were unable to compare notes and make plans.

Charlotte knew Morris code, but her fellow prisoners did not.  Early on she tried tapping out messages with her wrist cuffs, but her efforts fell on uncomprehending ears.  She soon gave up.

The prisoners languished in their cells and tried not to fret about what would happen when their oceangoing prison arrived at her destination.  Unfortunately, they failed.  They had very little to do to relieve the boredom of their unexplained captivity other than to worry.

And then, a new day dawned and the prisoners' boring, humiliating routine abruptly changed.

Six crew members made their ways to the brig and all three captives were hauled from their cells, up the ladder, and to the stern.  This was Charlotte, Amondi, and Anne's first look at each other, their first chance to put a gagged voice to a gagged face and helpless, naked body.  They recognized each other from the party, and although they hadn't been introduced, at least in the case of the Brit and Kenyan, they knew each others work.

The Fickle Feather's engines were throttled back to a near idle and she was making only a couple of knots through the blue water.  Off to starboard the captives beheld a lush tropical island, and a Zodiac was approaching from that direction.  The distance was still great, but they could see a muscular blonde in a golden bikini at the boat's wheel.

Rather than being served breakfast, the prisoners were outfitted with rather curious life jackets.  They were international orange with thick collars and padding in the front.  The handlers dropped the yoke-like devices over the captive's heads and secured straps that snugged them against their torsos and pinned their arms to their sides, actually adding to their bondage.  Next, ten to twelve foot lengths of bright yellow polypropylene rope were clipped to steel rings in the jackets.  The back of Anne's collar was now tethered to the front of Amondi's, the back of Amondi's collar to the front of Charlotte's, and finally, a third, much longer length of yellow rope with a red and white, football-sized float clipped to its far end was clipped to the back of Charlotte's collar.

And then, without warning or preamble—"MRRRK!"—Anne, Amondi, Charlotte were shoved off the yacht's stern into the churning wake and the float tossed after them!

The nude, bound, and gagged prisoners plunged into the churning water!  And then, they bobbed to the surface.  Charlotte and Anne did their best to shake their hair from their gagged faces, but with her short hair Amondi had no such need.  All three sputtered through their gags, blinked the seawater from their eyes, kicked their shackled feet, and watched as the Fickle Feather pulled away .  Adding insult to abandonment, their handlers were cheerfully waving and blowing kisses from the stern.  Thankfully, the life jackets were doing their jobs, not only counteracting the weight of their steel bonds, but keeping their gagged faces above the bubbling water.

Meanwhile, the Zodiac with its bikini-clad blonde pilot with the muscles and deep tan had arrived.  She idled the engine, used a boathook to snag the float, pulled the float and its attached line on board, and made the yellow rope fast to a cleat at the Zodiac's stern.  She then smiled at the bobbing captives.

"Welcome to Isla Pluma," the blonde said.  "My name is Toni and I'll be your handler during your stay.  If you need anything, just scream."

With that, Toni returned to the wheel, advanced the throttle, and slowly motored towards the island.

The yellow line snapped taut, spun Charlotte around, and she was dragged headfirst in the Zodiac's wake.  As the connecting lines snapped taut, Amondi and then Anne received similar treatment.  Soon, all three prisoners were being towed towards the island in a watery coffle.  The helpless captives could only glide through the water on their backs, tug on their cuffs, kick their fettered feet, gaze up at the cerulean sky—which at the moment revealed nothing more than a few fluffy clouds and some soaring, wheeling gulls—and "enjoy" the ride.

The last few days had been horrible and Maddy was afraid she was losing her mind!

The day of her arrival on the island—while naked, tape-gagged, loosely spreadeagled on the glowing light-table, and lit from above—and right after Sadista introduced herself—Maddy's hostess/captor had proceeded to slather her helpless body with moisturizer and give her a highly skilled and very involuntary deep-muscle massage!  Arms, legs, shoulders, torso, abdomen, breasts, and pussy... the massage had been very thorough.  Her back and rump were neglected, of course, as Maddy was spreadeagled on her back.

Sadista then proceeded to tickle Maddy's feet with a feather!  And the tickling went on and on... for a very long time!  Later, on reflection, Maddy realized the feathery torment had lasted only something like three minutes; but at the time, it had seemed like forever!  Unfortunately, the three minutes were only be a preamble, a warmup.  Sadista proceeded to tickle her ribs, armpits, nipples, breasts, and private parts!  And then, she tickled her feet again!

Worse yet, Sadista repeated the tickling ordeal on a daily basis!  Each time, afterwards, Maddy's body dripped with sweat and her muscles ached from struggling.  That included her abdomen and diaphragm, which were inevitably sore from all that gagged-giggling and screaming.

During these tortuous sessions, Maddy was naked, and always bound and gagged in some manner, but never the same way twice.  Sadista used rope or specialized leather restraints to bind her captive in various positions, some of which could be quite contorted.  And again, she never used the same position twice.  Tape and ball-gags alternated to muffle Maddy's vocal reactions to the indescribably horrible sensations of Sadista's feather gliding across her helpless body.

Toni the blonde amazon did all the tying of knots and buckling of straps.  Toni also fed Maddy her meals and saw to her other needs, like "encouraging" her to exercise and putting her to bed at night.  Specifically...

Maddy had to admit Isla Pluma's cuisine was excellent.  For each meal her gag was removed (of course) and she was hand fed by Toni.  Maddy's initial attempts to whine, complain, and appeal to her handler's better nature fell on deaf ears and were punished by means of a shock-collar: a leather collar lined on the inside with copper studs.  The unspeakable thing had a long-lasting battery and vibration sensors that delivered punishing electric shocks whenever she tried to speak.  Maddy quickly (meaning instantly) learned to keep her opinions and objections to herself, and after the first day, the mere threat of the use of the collar was sufficient to keep her quiet whenever her gag was removed.

Exercise varied, like her bondage.  Sometimes, Toni took Maddy for a run on one of the island's many beaches, literally dragging Maddy behind her on a leash.  Naked, bound, and ball-gagged, Maddy had no choice but to jog along behind her handler (her breasts bouncing as she ran) down a sandy jungle trail to one of Isla Pluma's beaches.  They'd run down the beach, turn and run back, then jog back down the trail to Sadista's lair.

There was also... The Box.  It was a free-standing steel enclosure that Maddy suspected had begun life as a small shipping container, but had been modified.  Its floor was now a rubberized treadmill and its interior walls padded with rubber panels secured by a diamond pattern of copper studs, and the studs were electrical contacts!  Once Maddy was locked inside The Box—naked, bound, and gagged, of course—the floor would start moving... and would slowly pick up speed.  Maddy had no choice but to walk... and then run.  The alternative was receiving a serious shock when the treadmill carried her against the wall.  The pace seemed to be computer controlled, and the program mixed power-walking, jogging, and brief periods of serious sprinting.  Luckily, Maddy was already in good shape, so while the sessions in The Box always raised a sweat and got her heart pumping, she was able to keep up.

Maddy's nightly repose occurred in a closet-sized padded cell.  The entire floor was a king-size mattress.  She was thrust inside and the door locked until Toni came for her in the morning.  Her bondage was always minimized at night, she supposed so she could get some sleep, but Maddy was always restrained in some manner.

As for the "film project" Sadista had used to lure Maddy to the island, her hostess never brought it up.  Sadista seemed to have only one thing on her evil mind: the tickle torture of Maddy Rynsburger's naked, helpless body.

And then, on day ten of her captivity (by Maddy's count), her routine was shattered.

Toni roused Maddy from her slumber, encouraged (meaning required) her to use the nearby bathroom, cleaned her up afterwards, then changed her bonds.  Maddy's arms were trapped behind her back in a tight, single-sleeve armbinder of black leather.  Its retaining straps yoking her shoulders, crisscrossed her chest above her breasts, then passed under her armpits and buckled to the sides of the binder.  Secondary straps buckled tight around her wrists and elbows.

Next, Toni added a black leather body-harness to enhance Maddy's helplessness.  Its diagonal straps yoked Maddy's shoulders and two horizontal straps passing above and below her breasts and buckled over the upper part of the armbinder.  A third strap encircled her waist and the lower armbinder, and finally, a vertical strap cleaved her butt-cheeks and labia and buckled to the front of the waist strap.

To prevent her from kicking (which Maddy wouldn't have tried, anyway) Toni added black leather ankle-cuffs connected by a ten-inch hobbling chain.

And then, Toni gagged Maddy with a black leather muzzle-gag.  Its mouth-plug was a rubber bite-protector and a tight, flat panel pressed against Maddy's lips and covered her lower face from just under her nose to well under her chin, then buckled tight at the nape of her neck.

The final and humiliating item of Maddy's new ensemble was a leather collar and leash.

Maddy had no choice but to mince behind Toni as her handler climbed the stairs from the "Slave Quarters" (as Maddy mentally characterized the subterranean level of the estate with her sleeping cell and bathroom) and up to an open air balcony with a magnificent ocean view.  There they found Sadista comfortably seated at a cafe table and enjoying a late breakfast.

"Ah, Ms. Rynsburger," Sadista purred as Toni led Maddy to the balcony's stone knee-wall and hitched the end of her leash through a convenient iron ring.  Sadista pointed to the horizon.  "Our cast is arriving."

Maddy followed Sadista's gesture and beheld what appeared to be a yacht or small ship.  It was still quite distant and Maddy couldn't make out many details.

"Bring them to Hidden Eye Cove," Sadista said, apparently for Toni's benefit.  "We'll meet you there."

Maddy continued gazing at the approaching ship.  She could now see it was a very modern, very impressive yacht—although it was painted gray instead of the usual white—and was still miles away.  'Our cast?' she wondered.  The cast of the supposed film project?  What else can she mean?

Toni smiled, spun on her heel, and left.

Sadista returned to finishing what appeared to be a seafood omelette, with fresh papaya and pineapple on the side.

Maddy continued watching the approaching yacht... and ignored her rumbling stomach.

Under normal circumstances, being towed by a Zodiac through cool saltwater at the end of a long rope might be considered entertainment.  After all, dragging paying guests on floats behind speedboats was a common diversion at posh tropical resorts.  The problem was, of course, that Charlotte, Amondi, and Anne's circumstances were far from normal.  They'd been kidnapped, stripped naked, and kept in steel bondage for days, as well as being ball-gagged between meals.  And now they were being towed through the water in combination life jacket/body-harnesses with their wrists and ankles still in chains and their mouths still plugged with ball-gags.  Factor in the uncertainty factor—being towed towards an unknown island and unknown fate—and the prisoners' naked, helpless, watery journey was anything but entertainment.  Granted, Toni was setting a slow pace, but it was still an ordeal.

Suddenly, the towed captives entered a cave!  That is, the blue sky overhead was suddenly replaced by dark stone lit from below by rippling reflected sunlight.  They surged forward... and once again stone gave way to sky; however, now the sunlight was filtering through a vast camouflage net stretched across a web of cables, far overhead.  Trees, bushes, and vines rimming the circular enclosure, and some of the vines were entwined with the net.  The life jackets prevented the captives from turning their heads and looking around, but they realized they had arrived at the island, and more precisely, had entered an enclosed bay or inlet via the sea cave.

The Zodiac throttled back and the captives drifted, linked by their yellow, polypropylene tethers.  The weight of their shackles dragged their feet towards the bottom, but the life jackets more than compensated.  Their bonds made maneuvering their bobbing bodies difficult, but all three captives managed to squirm, slosh, twist, and spin until they were facing what turned out to be a beach, a pier, and a set of stone and wooden stairs climbing up the side of a rocky, vine-draped cliff to the balconies of a modern estate constructed of natural materials and draped with even more vines.

And waiting on the beach were two women.

One was wearing a mauve bikini and a whisper-thin, mauve sarong.  There were mauve highlights in her dark hair and mauve makeup enhanced her 40-something (possibly 50-something), unarguably attractive face.  All three captives had absolutely no idea who she might be, but even at this distance the smile curling her lips was... disturbing.

The other woman on the beach was naked, not counting the black leather harness and armbinder restraining her shapely, well-endowed body.  Her ankles were hobbled, a collar was around her neck, and a leash trailed from the collar to the bikini-clad woman's right hand.  A gag covered the prisoner's lower face, but—"Mrrrk!"—all three bobbing captives recognized the brunette prisoner.  She was Maddy Rynsburger, the famous actress, director, and producer!

Meanwhile, Toni the blond amazon had detached the float and was tossing the end of the tow rope to the only person nearby who wasn't bound in steel or leather.  She then advanced the throttle, spun the wheel, and deftly maneuvered the Zodiac to the pier.

"Welcome ladies!" the mauve-clad brunette shouted, then began reeling in the tow line.  The floating prisoners were pulled forward until their shackled feet touched the sandy bottom.  First Anne... then Amondi... and finally Charlotte planted their feet, stood, minced from the rapidly shallowing water, and emerged onto the dry sand.  "Welcome to Isla Pluma," the woman purred, then turned to Maddy.  "Our cast has arrived."

The dripping wet captives exchanged confused, gagged looks.  Maddy also, but to a lesser extent as she was aware of Sadista's supposed film project.

"You may call me 'Sadista'," the woman said, addressing the dripping wet, newly arrived prisoners, "or Mistress Sadista, or simply  Mistress... not that you'll have much occasion to address me at all."  Her smile became even more sinister.  "I like it when my special guests are gagged.  They make such entertaining noises."

Toni had finished tying the Zodiac to the pier and was sauntering in their direction, swinging her hips and resplendent in her gold bikini.  She unbuckled and removed Anne's life jacket... then Amondi's... and finally Charlotte's.  The new arrivals were now naked and free, if you didn't count their shackles, manacles, belly-chains, and ball-gags.  They eyed each other, uncertainly.

"Don't even think about it, ladies," Sadista chuckled.  "This is an island.  There's nowhere for you to run... or shuffle, as the case may be."

Charlotte reacted with blinking eyes—Amondi heaved a gagged, disgusted sigh—and Anne stared aggressively hostile daggers at the serenely smiling Sadista.

"Seriously," Toni added.  "there's nowhere you can hide that I won't find you, and no way you can get out of those chains.  Isla Pluma is designed to be luxurious for its owner... and inescapable for her guests.  Also, I have the required ways and means to change the attitudes of disobedient damsels."

"And speaking of attitude..." Sadista purred.  She was smiling at Anne, who glared back.  "I think we'll start with the feisty ginger."

Anne continued glaring at Sadista.  Charlotte was aghast, in a naked, bound, and ball-gagged sort of way, Amondi was more difficult to read, and Maddy was sad and resigned.

Toni stepped forward and took a firm grip on Anne's wet, tousled hair with her left hand, grabbed Amondi's left arm with her right hand, then smiled at Sadista and nodded towards Charlotte.  "Mistress?"

"We should have brought more collars and leashes," Sadista chuckled, then grabbed a handful of Charlotte's wet, tangled hair.

"Mrrrrf!" Charlotte complained as Sadista dragged her down the beach, away from the pier, and towards a small cave opening in the base of the cliff.  It was just wide enough for two damsels (or a damsel and a handler) to enter side-by-side and its floor was beach sand.  They paused before a gate of iron bars, Sadista lifted a small steel cover and placed her thumb against a reader, there was an audible click, and the gate swung open.

The group of two bikini-clad handlers and four naked, bound, and gagged damsels passed through the gate.  It closed behind them with a metallic clang, and they continued down the tunnel-like cave until it opened into an irregular, natural, room-sized chamber with a high ceiling.  A third of the cave's floor was more sand and the rest a pool of still seawater.  There was plenty of light.  Blue sky was visible between small gaps in the jumble of large boulders on the seaward side, and similar, submerged gaps allowed the cave's shallow pool to communicate with the ocean beyond.

The prisoners noticed other details, some innocuous and some ominous.  A cafe-table with a couple of comfortable-looking chairs and a very comfortable-looking lounge chair were off to the side.  Nothing wrong with that; however, set in the stone wall was a hefty, stainless steel winch.  A chain stretched from the winch's reel, up to a pulley embedded in the cave roof directly over the center of the pool, then back down to a steel hook set in the cave wall next to the winch.  And dangling from the terminal link of the chain were a pair of rubber and steel suspension-cuffs.

Toni released Amondi's arm and dragged Anne to the winch.

At the same time, Sadista released Charlotte's hair, passed the end of Maddy's leather leash through Charlotte's belly-chain, then beckoned to Amondi.  "Come," she ordered.

Amondi heaved a sad and somewhat petulant gagged sigh, then followed their captor's command.  What choice did she have?  She watched, as did Charlotte and Maddy, as Sadista slid the end of the leash between her stomach her belly-chain, then tied a simple hitch.  Maddy, Charlotte, and Amondi were now standing side by side in a close huddle, linked together by the leash.  The involuntary, intimate arrangement was humiliating and somewhat embarrassing.  It was all they could do to keep their breasts from brushing together; however, it didn't prevent them from watching what Toni was doing to Anne.

The struggling, mewling, angry ginger's wrists cuffs had been removed—obviously Toni had the required key—and now her wrists were being strapped together in front, despite Anne's best efforts to resist.  This was the three newly arrived damsels' first opportunity to witness (or experience) both Toni's amazon strength and her expertise in the art of handling struggling, reluctant captives.  All too soon, Anne found herself at the water's edge, her arms raised and her cuffed (or re-cuffed) wrists stretched above her ball-gagged, sputtering, furiously staring head.  Her belly-chain was unlocked and removed but her steel ankle-cuffs remained, and Toni had clipped a six-inch, spherical, cannonball-style weight to the center of the hobbling chain.

Meanwhile, Sadista was now reclined on the lounge chair.  She gestured to Toni and the smiling blond amazon began turning the winch's hand-crank.

"Mrrrpfh!" Anne fumed as she tugged on her wide, padded cuffs.  The shortening chain steadily pulled her hands upwards, dragged her feet and the cannonball weight across the sand, and slowly, inevitably, her feet entered the water... followed by the cannonball... and then she was lifted into the air.  Finally, Anne was dangling over the center of the pool.

All that Maddy, Charlotte, and Amondi could do was watch in impotent horror.  Surely this Sadista woman wasn't going to drown Anne!  In any case, she couldn't.  Clearly, the water was too shallow.  It was a rocky tide pool, only three or four feet at its deepest points.

"Have you ever heard of 'cleaner fish', ladies?" Sadista inquired.  The question was rhetorical, as, except for Toni, the members of her audience were all gagged.  "Certain species specialize in pecking dead skin and ectoparasites from other fishes.  Some of their 'customers' are quite large, even predatory, but they not only tolerate the activities of the cleaners, they actually line up and take turns.  It's remarkable."  She gestured again.

Still smiling, Toni lifted the winch's ratchet and slowly played out the chain until the cannonball-weight touched the surface, then disappeared into the "depths"... followed by Anne's feet.  Toni reset the ratchet when Anne was submerged to just above her fettered ankles.

Anne hung from the suspension cuffs and stared daggers at Toni... then shifted her infuriated gaze to Sadista.

"And now we wait," Sadista purred.

Seconds passed... became a minute... and then...

Anne's eyes popped wide and she yelped through her ball-gag.  "Urk!"  She squirmed her fettered and dangling feet, then yelped again.  "Urk!"

The watchers not dangling with their feet in the pool could just make out silvery shapes flashing from the rocks like tiny torpedoes, pecking at Anne's feet and toes, then quickly swimming away.

Anne continued squirming and complaining—"Mrrrk!"—as more and more of the fishy fingerling torpedoes pecked and nibbled at her feet.  And now some of the fish were staying, repeatedly nibbling on her toes and soles!  Anne giggled and panted through her ball-gag, her eyes simultaneously angry and wide with alarm.

"Oh, look," Sadista drawled, "apparently... it tickles."

"Who knew?" Toni chuckled.

Charlotte and Amondi stared in wide-eyed horror, Maddy with resigned sympathy.

Unable to take the titillating but actually harmless feeding frenzy any longer, Anne spread her knees and lifted her legs until her feet cleared the roiling surface.  A few fish tried leaping into the air to continue nibbling on her toes, but soon gave up and all the fish returned to the pool's rocky bottom

Anne continued holding her dripping feet above the surface, her leg muscles visibly straining.  It wasn't clear how much the cannonball weighed, but Maddy, Charlotte, and Amondi knew it certainly wasn't insignificant and wasn't making Anne's task any easier.

"Toni, darling," Sadista drawled.

"Mistress?"

"Anne and I would like to be alone for awhile," Sadista continued.  "Please take care of our other guests.  Then, bring me a cool drink."

"Yes, Mistress," Toni smiled, then walked over to the leash-linked captives, gripped a handful of Maddy's wet, tousled hair, and led all three from the cave.  They shuffled along as best they could.  Charlotte and Amondi looking back at the dramatic tableau in the cave until they disappeared down the tunnel-like connecting cave.

Sadista gazed at Anne, who was continuing to hold her feet above the now still water.  Anne stared back, angry and defiant.  They heard the connecting cave's iron gate squeal open... then clang closed... and they were alone.

"You're a tough one, aren't you, Anne?" Sadista purred.

Anne continued to glare, her leg, thigh, and abdominal muscles continued to strain, and seawater continued dripping from her feet and into the pool.

"I don't mind," Sadista continued.  "I enjoy breaking tough girls."  She directed her smiling gaze to Anne's feet.  "How long do you think you can keep that up?  The weight's getting heavy, isn't it?"  Her smiling gaze returned to Anne's angry, ball-gagged face.  "It doesn't matter.  My fishy friends have infinite patience."