|by Van © 2018
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
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
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
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
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 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
(◄) 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
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
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
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
"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 last few
days had been horrible and Maddy was afraid she was losing
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
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
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
"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.
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
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
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
"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
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
"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
"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
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
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
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
"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
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
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
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
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
"Toni, darling," Sadista drawled.
"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
Charlotte and Amondi looking back at the dramatic tableau in the
cave until they disappeared down the tunnel-like connecting
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