|by Van © 2018
It was a long
journey to... wherever they were going.
Silke's vista was limited. Through the thick but clear
acrylic of her sarcophagus-like Damsel Transport Module (DTM),
she could see the green canopy overhead and the sand of the
unimproved sandy road as it rolled away and faded into the
distance. She was still naked, tightly gagged, and
strapped down, of course, with her bare feet being humidified
and hyper-oxygenated inside a separate Tootsie Pre-Conditioning
(TPC) sub-module. She was, in a word, helpless.
Actually, there were other sights to occupy her attention and
help her pass the time, namely: Maddie Rynsburger, Charlotte
James, Amondi Obiero, and Anne Knoll. All four of her
fellow-captives were naked, bound in leather armbinders,
ball-gagged, shock-collared, hobbled, and linked together in a
nipple-clamp-coffle. Silke was impressed by their ability
to power-walk while bound, gagged, and hobbled, taking their
nipple jeopardy literally in stride. Also, they were able
to maintain sufficient slack in the nipple-chains to allow a
little boob bouncing as they walked (especially Anne).
Silke surmised they'd had practice, meaning restrained walking
practice. As for how much clover-clamp experience they'd
suffered since becoming Sadista's guests, Silke had no idea.
Suddenly, Sadista's voice reverberated through the DTM.
"Testing, testing. Earth to Agent Arches." Tap-tap-tap.
"Is this thing on?"
Hilarious, Silke sighed through her gag.
"Silke, darling," Sadista continued, "I just wanted to let you
know that even though you just got here it's time for you to
take a nap. But I promise you a really nice surprise
when you wake up."
What the hell is she talking about? Silke wondered.
Then, she heard a quiet hissing sound. Gas!
Her vision began losing focus and she went rigid in her
bonds. Quick-acting gas! Silke's eyes rolled
up in her head and she lost consciousness.
her eyes. Things had changed. No surprise
there. Sadista wouldn't gas her to unconsciousness and not
use the occasion to make changes. The bitch wouldn't waste
the perfect opportunity for a good regaining consciousness and
gloating scene, either, although that wasn't yet
happening. Anyway, Silke was an old hand in this sort of
thing. Time to take inventory.
Silke was in a jungle venue, a clearing surrounded on all sides
(as far as she could tell) by what were either banyan trees or a
Silke was still naked (another stunning non-surprise), but was
no longer strapped down inside the sealed DTM. She was in
a sitting position with her back reclined at about 45 degrees
with her arms raised and hands about three feet apart. Her
knees were slightly bent, her legs otherwise straight, and her
feet also three feet apart with her heels even with her rear
end. The adequately padded and ergonomically designed
piece of "furniture" supporting her in this position might be
called a combination St. Andrew's cross and lounge chair.
In fact, the thing was downright comfortable. It was also
constructed from heavy teak timbers with articulated joints that
probably allowed its occupant to be restrained in a variety of
positions. As for the actual restraints, form-fitting,
well-padded steel stocks imprisoned Silke's arms from her wrists
to her mid-forearms. Her ankles were bound in similar
stocks with the soles of her feet more-or less vertical and her
wiggling toes pointing straight up. She was utterly
helpless... as she usually found herself after becoming
Silke was confident about all the details of her "St. Andrews
Recliner" because she was staring at a second teak
construction that by all appearances was identical to her
own. It imprisoned Maddy Rynsburger in the same
"sitting-spread-eagle" position, which brought Silke to the next
Other Fellow Damsels
Charlotte, Amondi, and Anne were also present, and the two
actresses and the model/actress-wannabe were bound in the same
black armbinders, ball-gags, and shock-collars.
Charlotte and Amondi's gags were loose and hanging around their
necks, dangling over their collars, and they were kneeling at
the foot of Silke's lounger, directly in front of her left and
right feet, respectively. The clover-clamps were still
pinching their nipples, but now the connecting chains were
somehow linked to the ends of the foot support sections of
Anne's ball-gag was still plugging her mouth and she was on the
far side of the clearing and up on her toes between two tall,
vertical posts. The clover-clamps were still nipping her
nipples, but now their connecting chain was linked to the center
of a taut vertical chain that in turn was linked to the center
of a horizontal chain stretched between the tops of the two
posts. Quite obviously, the clamps and chains were the
reasons she was up on her toes on the sandy soil.
As for Maddy, "comfortably" reclined on her St. Andrew's
Recliner and restrained in bonds identical to Silke's, her
smooth skin shone with sweat, her eyes were wide and desperate
above her ball-gag and she was giggling and gasping, weakly
writhing her toned body, tugging on her wrist stocks, squirming
her bound feet, and wiggling her toes. And she had good
reason to be mewling through her gag and fighting her bonds.
Toni the amazon blond was nowhere to be seen but Sadista was
very much present. At the moment she was seated on a
padded stool between Maddy's feet and was using one of her
notorious magenta-dyed feathers to tickle the restrained,
semi-hysterical brunette's left foot.
Silke heaved a sigh and watched the feather glide up and down
Maddy's sole and explore the spaces between her toes. She
surmised The Evil Sadista had been amusing herself at poor
struggling Maddy's expense for quite some time. It
explained her fellow captive's sweaty condition and the weakness
of her desperate, futile struggles.
"Oh, good," Sadista said, continuing to tickle Maddy's left
foot, "Agent Arches has finally decided to join us." She
lifted her smiling (evil) gaze from Maddy's toes to Silke's
scowling, gagged face; then repositioned her stool and began (or
returned to) tickling the writhing, shining captive's right
foot. "I was afraid we'd given you too much 'sleepy
gas' and you were going to slumber through most of the party."
Silke rolled her eyes, then shifted her gaze to Charlotte and
"I assume you're wondering why my other guests are being so well
behaved," Sadista purred, waving the feather at the kneeling
actresses (and giving Maddy a momentary respite). "I'm
afraid Anne has been a bit of a Debbie-downer... what with her
constant rudeness and petulant lack of appreciation of
my kind hospitality."
Silke and Anne locked eyes. In typical feisty redhead
fashion, Anne's gaze was openly hostile, but Silke knew the
redhead's ire was directed at Sadista and not herself.
"Anyway, I've decided that when an irksome ginger pelts you with
lemons," Sadista continued, "it's best to make lemonade."
Silke rolled her eyes, again.
"Anyway, as your attendants are well aware..." She waved
the feather to indicate Charlotte and Amondi, again. "If
they speak or show the slightest hesitation in carrying out my
commands, the angry little fox will pay the price. I'll
trigger Anne's collar and they'll get to watch her dance on her
toes, bounce her magnificent boobs, and punish her pretty little
nipples. Thus far, the tactic has proven to be quite
Anne continued to glare, but now her angry green eyes were
focused directly on Sadista's smiling face. Charlotte and
Amondi's eyes were downcast.
Silke added her glare to Anne's. She was disgusted.
Sadista was being a complete bitch. That is, she was being
"Well now," Sadista said as she resumed tickling Maddy's right
foot. "I'm not quite finished entertaining Ms. Rynsburger,
but I don't want you to get bored. So... ladies, toes!"
Charlotte and Amondi locked eyes with Silke's and heaved
apologetic sighs, then Charlotte began sucking and licking the
toes of Silke's left foot while Amondi did the same on the
right. They alternated between taking one or more of
Silke's toes completely inside their mouths and sucking and
extending their tongues and sliding them tongues through the
Silke shivered in her bonds and tried to ignore the wet,
slurping attention being paid her hyper-sensitive "little
piggies". She didn't blame Charlotte and Amondi. In
their place she'd be doing her best to minimize Anne's
torment. She'd like nothing more that to tell them so,
even if Sadista punished her for it; but, of course, the
ball-gag was plugging her mouth. Silke could only hope
that the actresses could read the sympathy and forgiveness on
her gagged face.
Maddy's feathery ordeal continued... as did Silke's slurping
Minutes passed... something like ten... maybe twelve.
Maddy continued her semi-exhausted, gagged giggling, keening,
and mewling and weak squirming.
Silke continued her shivering and tugging on her inescapable
Finally, Sadista paused in her tickling efforts and Maddy
slumped in her bonds. "Alright, ladies," the smiling
villainess purred, "enough with just the toes. Time to
include Agent Arches' pretty wrinkled soles."
Charlotte and Amondi ceased sucking and licking Silke's
glistening toes and began sliding their tongues up and down the
soles of her wiggling, flexing feet, as ordered.
As Silke tried her best to ignore the sensations caused by the
enlarged scope of the actress' tongue bath, she noted that
Anne's green eyes were now focused on her (and on the kneeling
Charlotte and Silke's armbinders, butts, feet, and bobbing
heads), and they were now sad, rather than defiant. Silke
wished she could tell her that it was okay, that Charlotte and
Amondi had no choice, that she forgave them all, no matter what
they were forced to do to her (or each other), and that none of
them should feel guilty, but all Silke could do was add those
things to the growing list of thoughts she was unable to share.
Silke noted that Anne's fidgeting toes and hobbled feet were
creating a shallow depression in the sandy soil. She knew
that had to be bad news for the redhead's suffering
nipples. Anne's full, lightly freckled breasts and pink
nipples were noticably stretched; however, in Silke's
estimation, Anne was in discomfort but not actual pain, not
yet. Hang in there, Red,
Silke thought, no pun intended.
Just then, Toni entered the clearing, resplendent in her
glorious tan and shining gold bikini. "Ahem," she
announced, focusing at her mistress.
Sadista heaved a much put-upon sigh and tucked the feather in
her bikini top and between her breasts. "Yes, yes, I'm
well aware of the time and your schedule," she said
"The youngsters need to be watered, fed, and put to bed," Toni
said with a smile.
Sadista nodded. "They've been good girls; even Anne,
largely. No kibble for dinner. Feed them something
nice, and we'll use the sleeping arrangement we discussed
earlier." She smiled at Anne. "Spread-eagle that one
on the bed in one of the special guest rooms..." She
nodded at Charlotte and Amondi. "Then put those two in
padded cuffs with plenty of room to wiggle and squirm and lock
them in with the redhead. No gags, but their collars will
remain linked and in full sonic punishment mode. There
will be no gossiping and comparing notes during the
night, ladies, but once you settle down, feel free to snuggle
and make out."
"As you wish, Mistress," Toni acknowledged.
Bitch, Silke thought, meaning both Toni and Sadista.
Toni unclipped Charlotte and Amondi's nipple-clamps from the
base of Silke's "recliner", hauled them to their hobbled feet,
and led them to Anne. She then unclipped Anne's
nipple-clamps from the vertical chain and restored the
nipple-clamp-coffle Silke had seen earlier and led the three
damsels from the clearing. Charlotte, Amondi, and Anne
looked back at Maddy and Silke over their shoulders with gagged,
worried expressions as they shuffled after Toni... and
then were gone.
Silke and Maddy remained, bound to their St. Andrew's
Recliners. Maddy was still recovering from her ordeal, her
body glistening with sweat and breasts heaving as she panted
through flaring nostrils. Silke sighed and watched Sadista
stand, pick up her stool, and relocate to the space between
Silke's pinioned and splayed feet. The feet in question
still glistened with Charlotte's and Amondi's saliva.
Silke heaved another gagged sigh. Yes, it was business as
usual. The situation, location, and supporting cast
changed, but Sadista always got her way and Silke always found
herself being tortured with one of her damn feathers.
Business as usual.
Sadista plucked the feather in question from between her
breasts, smiled her sadistic smile, leaned forward, and began
tickling Silke's hyper-sensitive, saliva-glistening right foot.
Sadista tickled Silke's right foot... and then her left
foot. Then, she tickled Silke's thighs, ribs, breasts (and
nipples), armpits, neck and ears, tummy (especially her
bellybutton), and then it was back to her feet.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Maddy had long since recovered from her tickle-torture
ordeal. The sweat had dried on her smooth, toned, lightly
tanned skin, and she no longer panted through her gag. Nor
were her breasts heaving. She appeared to be relaxed in
her bonds, meaning semi-exhausted and not bothering to tug on
her wrist or ankle stocks. Her gagged expression confirmed
her tiredness, but also signaled sympathy and empathy for
Silke's ordeal. She might not know much about Silke as a
person--next to nothing, in fact--but she had immediate
firsthand knowledge of what Sadista was doing to the body of the
sexy, strong, white-haired "Agent".
Now and then Silke managed to steal a glance at Maddy as her
tormentor repositioned herself to tickle a different part of her
anatomy, so she could read her fellow damsel's expression and
was grateful; but she had no idea what she could do to help
Maddy and the others escape Isla Pluma and Sadista's cruel
Silke's skin now dripped with sweat, as had Maddy's before, and
she was giggling and panting through her gag, nonstop. Her
nipples pointed (especially when they were being teased by
Sadista's feather) and her pussy throbbed (especially then the
soft blade of the feather brushed her labia), but her eyes were
dull and staring. She blinked now and then, attempting to
clear the salty, stinging sweat that occasionally rolled into
her eyes, but her reactions to Sadista's efforts were largely
physiological and involuntary.
Sadista worked her way up and down Silke's writhing body...
paused now and then to take a sip from some sort of tropical
concoction in a frosted glass (with fruit garnish and a tiny
umbrella)... then repeated the process. Another pause and
more sips of icy, yummy, no doubt refreshing, fruit and rum
goodness... and she started on yet another round of
Suddenly, Sadista screamed in apparent frustration and
forcefully tossed the feather to the sandy ground. Being a
feather, it more or less fluttered to the sandy soil, but it was
clear Sadista was upset.
"Dammit, Arches!" Sadista barked, glaring at Silke's sweaty,
gagged face. "Why are you being such a buzzkill? Why
is there no fire in your eyes? Why are you being
so... so... docile? What's your problem?"
Silke glared back (or tried, anyway). My
problem? My PROBLEM? You want the short list or
the LONG list?
Sadista stared daggers at Silke... then shifted her angry gaze
to Maddy... then back to Silke. "I go to all this trouble,
and... and... Hah!" With that she spun on her bare
feet and stomped from the clearing.
Silke and Maddy exchanged gagged, tired, confused expressions.
Silke was still sweaty and panting, of course, and they were
both still completely helpless.
The helplessness continued for several minutes, then Toni
appeared, her expression unreadable. She released Maddy
from her St. Andrew's Recliner, easily controlling her weak,
exhausted, half-hearted struggles as she cuffed the naked
brunette's wrists behind her back, tightened and padlocked a
belly-chain around her waist, trapping her cuffed hands against
the small of her back, then cuffed her ankles.
Silke carefully noted Toni's handling techniques.
Personally, Silke knew a dozen or so devastating martial arts
counter-moves that might have defeated the process of the
change-of-bonds at any one of several different points, but
obviously, Maddy wasn't familiar with any of them.
Toni effortlessly tossed Maddy onto her right shoulder in a
fireman's carry, then spun on her heel and strode away.
Maddy was feet front and ball-gagged head to the rear, so she
was able to lock eyes with Silke as she was carried away... and
then they were gone.
Alone, Silke heaved a sigh and settled in to wait.
The wait was a long one. At some point, Silke closed her
eyes and took a nap. Why not? What else did she have
to do? Also, tickle-torture seemed to take it out of her
like nothing else.
"Mrrrpfh!" Silke awoke with her head pinned firmly in
place, a breathing mask of some sort clamped over her nose and
gagged mouth, and Toni smiling in her face. Sleepy-gas,
she realized. Her last conscious thought was, So much
for using my kung-fu to deal with Blondie.
her eyes... and heaved a gagged sigh. Another gassing,
she thought, another change of venue... and more
bondage. Always bondage.
The venue was a luxurious bedroom, possibly (probably) Sadista's
master (meaning mistress) bedroom. Silke lay on her side
on a gigantic circular bed and was bound in leather, her ankles
cuffed together and her arms behind her back in a single-sleeve
armbinder. Surprisingly, there was no elaborate
harness/network of straps binding her body or legs. A
shock collar was around her neck and a tape-gag of some sort
sealed her lips (with no stuffing). It goes without saying
that she was still naked. Once captured, Silke was always
naked. She squirmed and twisted and completed her
evaluation of her bonds. Tight.
Inescapable. And surprisingly minimal, especially the
Things usually went the other way. Once captured,
Silke's bonds tended to get progressively more elaborate, not
less. Ankle cuffs and an armbinder? A tape-gag
without stuffing? Compared to the effort that had gone
into technology like the Damsel Transport Module or the St.
Andrews Recliner, it was almost an insult.
Silke heaved another sigh. Not that I rate anything
elaborate. I'm a failure as a super-agent.
It happened on every mission. It happened time after
time. She always escaped and/or was rescued, but first she
was captured, always, with depressing regularity. Silke
had a 100% success rate... and a 100% failure rate.
The naked prisoner-of-the bed rolled over—more evidence that she
was minimally restrained—and found she wasn't alone.
More-or-less in the middle of the bedroom and facing the bed,
Maddy Rynsburger was tied to a wooden straight-back chair.
And if Silke's leather bonds were what she considered "minimal,"
Maddy's rope bonds were over-the-top. In fact, she was a
Shibari/Kinbaku artistic installation. Maddy's naked body
was bound to the chair from shoulders to toes and everywhere in
between. Her arms were behind the chair and out of Silke's
direct view, but from the way her shoulders were pulled back and
her boobs thrust forward, it was a safe bet her elbows were
nearly touching and her wrists, hands, and fingers also
rope-bound. Silke could see a crotch-rope, as well as neat
bands of rope with diagonal cross-lacing that bound Maddy to the
chair above and below her breasts, across her waist and thighs,
and above and below her knees. The bed prevented Silke
from admiring the ropes binding Maddy's ankles, feet, and toes,
but the helpless brunette's bondage statement wouldn't be
aesthetically consistent without them.
The shock-collar was still around Maddy's throat, but her gag
was now a leather head-harness with an over-the-mouth
panel. Silke assumed there was also stuffing of some sort,
a rubber plug or a sponge or a wad of cloth. There usually
was. Silke and Maddy locked eyes across the bedroom.
The distance was significant and the light filtering through the
billowing drapes of the bedroom's picture windows was tending
towards sunset, but Silke could see her fellow damsel was
resigned to her fate. So am I, Silke silently
Just then, the bedroom door opened and Sadista entered.
She was wearing the same bikini and sarong as when she'd
tickle-tortured Maddy and Silke back in the clearing; however,
her gloating smile was replaced by an irritated scowl. Her
hands were on her shapely hips and she stared the proverbial
daggers at her bed-bound captive.
So, Silke thought, this isn't the usual Big
Gloating Scene? Another break with tradition.
Sadista spun on her heel and stomped to Maddy and her
chair. "Squirm," she ordered.
Maddy's eyes blinked above her gag. "Mrrrf?"
Sadista reached out and gave Maddy's left nipple a serious
pinch. "I said squirm!"
Maddy's eyes popped wide—"Mrrk!"—and she did, indeed,
Silke watched as Sadista watched as Maddy's ropes loosened here
and tightened there as she wiggled and writhed in the
chair. None of the tight bands shifted or changed
"Alright, that's enough," Sadista huffed. "I guess Toni
did her usual competent job." With that, she walked around
Maddy and her chair, stomped into the attached bathroom, and
closed the door.
Silke and Maddy locked eyes, again, and shared a commiserating
sigh. They heard the sound of the shower in the bathroom
and relaxed in their bonds. For Maddy, relaxing wasn't
much of a change. On the bed, it meant a little more as
she snuggled and squirmed on the soft mattress, but Silke
refused to feel guilty. None of this was her fault and she
wasn't in control of anything.
The shower noise lasted for several minutes... then stopped and
was followed by several more minutes of the drone of a
hairdryer. Finally, the bathroom door opened and Sadista
reemerged, nude, her hair brushed and tastefully coifed (if you
discount the mauve highlights).
Still scowling, Sadista stomped around Maddy and her chair,
flopped onto the bed, pulled Silke close, and ripped the tape
from her lips with one callous jerk. Silke was too busy
wincing to notice Maddy wince in sympathy.
"Well," Sadista huffed. "Explain yourself. I go to
all this trouble to craft a nice, pleasant, entertaining
extended adventure, and you arrive and turn into Miss Buzzkill,
pooping on the party. What's your problem, Silke?"
Silke stared daggers at her captor for several seconds, then
cleared her throat. "Ahem." There was no shock from
her shock collar. "Ahem!" Still no
shock. She licked her lips and continued to glare.
"What's my problem? What's my problem? I'll
tell you what my problem is, you psychotic nut job! I'm
sick and tired of this shit! I don't want to play
anymore! I... I..." Silke heaved a sigh and
relaxed in her bonds. "I'm tired."
"Tired?" Sadista huffed. "That's your excuse for spoiling
my fun? That's your excuse for dialing-in your response to
my exquisitely crafted evil? You're tired?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," Silke muttered.
Sadista stared at Silke... then (surprisingly) heaved a sigh of
her own. She rolled off the bed, picked up the tablet on
the nightstand, and tapped a virtual key. "Your collar is
now on," she advised Silke, "and if you hop or squirm to within
five feet of Ms. Rynsburger, you'll both be punished,
continuously." She then turned off the tablet and returned
it to the nightstand, heaved one last sigh, and stomped from the
Silke watched her nemesis depart, then locked eyes with her
chair-bound and gagged fellow damsel... relaxed on the bed,
again, and closed her eyes. Sadista's in a really
bitchy mood, she mused, and she's not tickling
anybody. Maybe she's on her way to torture the actresses
and model. I hope not. Oh well.
Eventually, Silke drifted off to sleep.
Maddy heaved another gagged sigh. The white-haired "Agent"
was leather-bound on a nice soft bed, while she was
tied to a hard chair and more or less a macrame sculpture.
Maddy didn't blame her fellow captive, of course, but couldn't
help but wish that she only had a single-sleeve armbinder and
leather ankle-cuffs to contend with.
(ACTIVE OPERATIONS CONTROL CENTER)
It was another boring
watch. There were more than a dozen missions in progress
all around the globe, the details of which were scrolling and
flashing on the many screens mounted on the front wall of the
mission-control-style room. All of the agents involved had
met their check-in windows and made coded progress reports—all
except one: Agent Silke Arches. Of course, that was
nothing new for Silke. Nobody was worried. Silke
almost always dropped off the grid, time passed, then she
emerged victorious from yet another harrowing adventure fraught
with peril and heroism. And the after-action report was
always a must-read at Aqua-International HQ. Nobody was
Suddenly, the communications station bleeped and bonged and
several lights started blinking. At the same time, the
large central video display on the front wall flashed and
resolved into the head and shoulders silhouette image of what
was probably a woman. Text popped onto the bottom of the
screen labeling the caller as DIRECTOR "M".
"Holy guacamole!" the watch officer swore under her
breath. She sat up straight in her chair (even though the
video portion of the link was one-way) and pressed The Big Red
Button. "A.O.C.C. Watch Officer. How may we be of
The response was a garbled, electronically disguised
voice. It was unrecognizable, but may also have been
female, like the silhouette. "What you can do for me is
set up an extraction of Agent Arches at Location Bravo Seven in
three days. And make a note to have her evaluated for
stress by the Psychology Department. Also, I want her to
have some serious downtime. Assign her as an Academy
Instructor for a few months or something, but do not
send her back into the field 'til she's had a good long
vacation. Got it?"
"Uh, I'll arrange for the pickup and make the note, Director,"
the watch officer responded, "but, as you know, Directors 'C',
'A', and 'B' have the final word on all agent reassignments."
"Are you messin' with me?" Director "M" demanded. Are you
messin' with a 'Code Mauve' override directive?"
"No, Director. I'm just saying that Directors 'C', 'A',
and 'B' will have to sign off on a change to the active
roster. It's in the A.O.C.C. Watch Officer's Handbook."
"Well... DO IT!" Director "M" thundered, and the screen
dissolved into digital static.
"Wow," the comm technician gasped. "The 'Mauve Mystery'
Not for the first time, the watch officer wondered why the Aqua
International Directors insisted on the use of hyper-encrypted
Skype for all high-level communications, but also mandated
mask-filters for their visual images. It was... sort of
"Operations," she ordered. "Log the extraction order for
Agent Silke, assign an Extraction/Cleanup Team, and start the
pre-planning for a Mission Termination Protocol."
"Yes ma'am," the Agent at the Operations station acknowledged.
"I'll start typing up the reassignment order... or request, or
suggestion, or whatever the hell the damn thing winds up getting
called." She heaved a sigh and began composing an
interdepartmental memo, being careful to include Directors "C.",
"A.", and "B." in the copy-to block.