by Van © 2018
		Chapter 5

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.

Silke opened 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.

Her Surroundings
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 similar species.

Her Restraints
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 Sadista's "guest".

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 category.

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 Silke's "lounger".

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.

The Villainess
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 Armondi.

"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 effective."

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 Sadista.

"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 spaces between.

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 toe-bath.

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 bonds.

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 petulantly.

"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.

An hour passed.

Very.

Slowly.

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 attentions.

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 tickle-torture.

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.

Silke opened 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 gag.

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 agreed.

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, squirm.

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 position.

"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 bedroom.

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.

A.O.C.C
(ACTIVE OPERATIONS CONTROL CENTER)
AQUA-INTERNATIONAL WORLD HEADQUARTERS

---

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 worried.

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 service, Director?"

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' herself!"

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 self-cancelling.  Anyway...

"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.