B O N D A G E I S O U
T T H E R E
The see the actresses
I would cast in B-Files
MOVIE, follow the link below and use your browser's
"Back" feature to return.
up on her toes for most of an hour before the
Bondarella Gang finally returned. She watched as Betty wheeled
tape-gagged, and strapped down Megan out the door, taking her
god-knew-where to do god-knew-what to her.
Belladonna walked a slow circle around Gracie's helpless form.
She glared at the remaining kidnappers, and even though their features
were hidden behind the same identical carnival masks they'd been
wearing before, their gloating enjoyment of her well-roped, thoroughly
and naked condition was manifest.
"She's a strong one," Belladonna purred.
"Strong," Bondarella agreed. "At this stage, that French
newsreader was a simpering wreck."
"Yes, I was so disappointed,"
was a rare beauty. Gorgeous blue
eyes, lithe, exquisite body, and clear, fair skin—and she marked so
beautifully under the whip. Her gagged, soprano moans and
whimpers... heavenly music! And I had to go easy on her, so she wouldn't break
down completely. She was such a
"Well," Bondarella chuckled, "you won't have to spare the whip with
this one. I think it would take us days to break her spirit."
"Unless we were really trying, of course," Belladonna chuckled.
Gracie didn't even intensify her glare. It was what they
wanted. They were trying to get her goat. And besides, she
was just too tired
Bondarella stepped behind Gracie and did something to the clip securing
the ring tied in her
hair. The clip opened, and the prisoner was finally free of the
As soon as the pressure on her scalp abated, Gracie came down off
her toes, but she had only a couple of seconds to savor the blessed
her aching feet and calves before Belladonna grabbed her and hefted her
Stomach down, feet to
the front, and head to the rear, she
was carried through the door and down a dimly lit hallway.
lifted her head and surveyed their surroundings, but all she could see
was more of
cinder block walls, concrete floor, concrete ceiling, and industrial
light fixtures. Bondarella's elegant form
sauntered in their wake.
They entered another room, and this time the walls, ceiling, and floor
covered with glazed tiles in a truly hideous shade of
In the center, directly under a bank of bright lights, was a framework
of vertical and horizontal stainless steel
pipes. Gears and articulated joints made it clear the apparatus
adjustable, but its actual purpose was unclear. Steel cabinets
hose reel were mounted on the surrounding walls.
Gracie was deposited face-down on the cool tiles, and Belladonna sat
astride her waist. She severed the cable-tie binding Gracie's
started untying her rope bonds. Meanwhile,
Bondarella opened a cabinet, gathered several steel items in her arms,
carried them over,
and knelt beside
Gracie's prone form. Belladonna made short work of the key knots
and began peeling the rope strands from Gracie's upper body—but as
her wrists were released, broad, heavy steel
cuffs snapped closed and they were locked together.
Gracie moaned with relief as her arms were finally allowed to relax
from the reverse-prayer position, but her wrists were still bound
behind her back. As the
ropes left her ankles, they were also replaced with steel cuffs, and a
steel collar clicked closed around her throat.
The cuffs and collar were heavy and padded on their interior surfaces,
but Gracie had only a few seconds for evaluation
before she was lifted by her upper arms and dragged to the steel
frame. The back of her collar was clamped to a horizontal
pipe, then her wrist cuffs were separated and clamped to the same pipe,
to either side of her gagged head. This left her standing upright
with her arms raised and elbows bent.
Gracie had tried
her best to resist the change of bondage, but her kidnappers were
experts, and since she had never been completely free of her
entire process, the issue had never really been in doubt.
were separated and secured
to another vertical pipe, leaving her bare feet about eighteen inches
apart and on either side of the stainless steel grate of a
large, circular drain. At
least I'm flat-footed this time, she thought, and not up on my toes. The
collar's padded embrace allowed
her to turn her head a little, and she could examine
her new restraints—the wrist cuffs, at least. They were, indeed,
steel... heavy, thick, and wide... and now that they were clamped
to the framework, they were also completely rigid, as were the
ankle cuffs. For all practical purposes, Gracie was locked in an
upright steel pillory and stocks.
"I know this will be extremely humiliating, Agent Hart," Bondarella
"but I'm sure you realize that humiliation is an important element of
the program. You realize you've been on camera from the moment of
capture, don't you? In fact, you're on camera right now."
Gracie glared at Bondarella's mask. Of course it's humiliating to be a naked
prisoner, she fumed, but
what does the bitch mean by 'will be' humiliating? What else is
Belladonna had stepped behind and—was working something cold and slippery up
"Easy, Agent Hart," Bondarella cooed. "Don't worry, it's
lubricated. Just relax."
"You'd think she'd never had a public enema while naked and in bondage
before," Belladonna chuckled.
"That's an expandable probe," Bondarella explained. "The portion
Bella has just inserted past your sphincter will now expand, making a
"Like this," Belladonna added.
"M'ffh!" Gracie tugged on her implacable bonds and her eyes
popped even wider. The thing had
feeling wasn't exactly painful, but it was very... strange.
"You'll be receiving two full quarts of warm saline," Bondarella
continued. "The system is on
a timer, and the solution will arrive at some time in
hour... as something of a surprise. You'll be holding
the solution for at least fifteen minutes, until we come back
to help you with the purging process. And don't worry about
leakage. This apparatus is very
well-tested, believe me."
Meanwhile, Belladonna was untying the rope binding the steel ring in
Gracie tried to growl in protest, but what emerged was
more on the order of a gagged, whimpering moan, although it was somewhat defiant.
"One more task," Bondarella said, as she took several steps back, "and
we'll leave you to enjoy the wait."
Gracie heard a rattling noise, followed by a hiss—and suddenly, a spray
of cold water played over her body from behind! The
stream continued as Belladonna stepped to the side... and then to the
front. The nozzle of the hose was in her hand, and she doused
Gracie from head to toe... then released the nozzle's handle and let it
drop to the floor.
Gracie shivered in her bonds as the water dripped from her pinioned
Her hair was a bedraggled mess, with several loose strands plastered
her gagged face. Belladonna stepped from sight, then returned
with a sloshing steel bucket full of sudsy water. She reached
pulled out a large sponge, then began rubbing it over Gracie's face and
body. She took her time, giving every inch of the captive Agent a
thorough scrubbing, including the area between her splayed legs, of
course. Sponge bath complete, she carried the bucket away, to
behind Gracie's back. The captive was now covered with a slimy,
glistening film of
soap and bubbles, including her hair.
Bondarella stepped forward. "Every minute or so, for a few
seconds, a warm mist will
spray from the overhead pipes," she explained.
"Eventually, it will rinse you nice and clean."
Belladonna added, joining her mistress to share in the gloating.
"One last enhancement," Bondarella purred, "for our patrons'
enjoyment." She reached into a pocket
and pulled out a rolled white cloth. It unrolled into a narrow
strip and she held it so Gracie could read the letters "NEW JERSEY"
neatly embroidered down its length. It was a sash, exactly
like the one Gracie had worn while undercover at that damned beauty pageant... the one
that had made her "famous". Bondarella draped it
diagonally from Gracie's left shoulder, and engaged the
rhinestone-studded clip over the captive's right hip. "Hmm... not
a dear and give it a quick wipe with the sponge, would you please?"
"My pleasure, " Belladonna said, and stepped away.
Seconds later, Gracie flinched as
base of the sash against her hip and
dragged the dripping, soapy sponge down its length, plastering the
her back. Belladonna then stepped to the front, and the process
repeated. The sopping and now semi-opaque sash clung to her
"Excellent," Bondarella purred. "Now, we'll let the mist do its
work, and you can start enjoying the wait for your enema—and our
patrons can enjoy your predicament. Meanwhile, Bella
and I are going to see if Betty needs any help preparing your partner
"Watching, anyway," Belladonna clarified. "She's usually very
jealous of her toys, and seldom needs any real help."
"Which perfectly describes you, as well, darling," Bondarella
chuckled. "Anyway," she continued, "When we return, you'll be fed
and put to bed.
We want you to get a good night's sleep... for tomorrow."
The kidnappers spun on their heels and left the room. The heavy
steel door closed and its lock engaged, and Gracie was alone... not
counting the unseen audience of "patrons" who had commissioned her
The soap was stinging her eyes, or that's what Gracie told
herself. Truth be told, her emotions were threatening to get the
best of her will to remain strong. I'm not going to
Gracie promised herself. I'm
not going to cry.
Suddenly, there was a gurgling, hissing
sound, somewhere overhead, and a cloud of warm, wet mist drifted down
over her body. As promised, it only lasted a few seconds, and did
wash the soap from her nude, helpless body. Wonderful, Gracie fumed, and
settled in to wait... her only option. The pressure of the plug
in her anus was a constant reminder of the ordeal to come, although it
wasn't really painful. 'Two
quarts' sounds like a lot, she thought, maybe too much. She very
such would not be the case, but she didn't really know.
This would be Gracie's first
enema—"public", "naked and in bondage",
her tickling ordeal was finally over, Megan had been dragged to a tiled
chamber, hosed down, soaped, and rinsed. Next, she'd endured a
humiliating enema, followed by a "supper" of puréed gorp poured
a rubber hose attached to a mouth-sealing gag. Betty had assured
her the slop was "highly nutritious", but it was also bland and
disgusting. All three of her catsuited and masked kidnappers had
her post-ordeal care and feeding; but, truth be told, Betty probably
could have handled her on her own, with a few simple precautions.
Megan was simply too tired, physically and emotionally, to
resist. At least she was finally alone and could rest... after a
Megan had been "put to bed"... and that had been some time ago.
For the thousandth time, Megan squirmed in the canvas prison of the
her upper body, only able to make the tiny, shifting comfort movements
tight-fitting garment allowed. The jacket was
more-or-less a standard, off-the-shelf model, although Megan had to
admit she had little experience with such things—until now.
hugged her torso as if it had been tailored to her exact size.
For all she knew, it had been.
Also, it was
more enthusiastic with its various straps and buckles
similar devices she'd glimpsed during her visits to the Bellevue
to conduct interviews. Her arms were crossed
below her breasts in the traditional self-hug, with the straps at the
end of the sleeves secured behind her back; however, additional straps
sewn to the body of the jacket were buckled around her forearms,
and upper arms, reinforcing her helplessness with what seemed to be
ludicrous overkill. Possibly the worst feature of all was the
strap. Like the others, it was thick, tightly woven,
natural cotton, and while it was too wide to cleave her sex, a wedge of
natural rubber attached to the inside surface parted her labia and its
upper end was firmly
nestled against her
Continuing the apparent theme of the evening... ludicrous overkill... Megan
was locked inside a steel cage. Its base was approximately three
four feet, and it was about three feet in height. The
closely spaced bars
were powder-coated in a dull silver, and its door was secured with a
large sliding bolt and a high-security padlock. After her captors
had left her alone,
she'd shoved her shoulder against the portal, and it hadn't even
rattled. There was a thick pad covering the floor, similar in
weight to the natural canvas of her straitjacket. Megan had to
admit she was
more or less comfortable, although not being able to stretch her legs
would probably get old... eventually.
Other unnecessary refinements to her helplessness were the wide,
buckled around her ankles. They were butternut-tan "medical
restraints", padded on the inside with natural canvas, and joined by an
eighteen-inch hobbling strap. Also, a wide strip of
translucent medical tape was plastered across her lower face, covering
her lips and tautly, smoothly stretched from ear to ear and from just
under her nostrils to the point of her chin.
The final touch was an electrical cable Betty had plugged into a
socket in the
the straitjacket's crotch-strap and secured with several turns of a
wrench. It trailed away between the bars of the cage, across the
floor, and up the leg of a steel table, where it was plugged into
an electrical device the size of a clock radio or gaming console.
was plenty of slack in the arrangement, more than enough to let Megan
roll around inside the cage, but she could tell she'd be unable to
unplug the connection or break the cable, even if she tried. The
point at the strap was obviously hefty, strong, and up to the task, and
the cable itself
was secured to a bar of the cage and the leg of the table with multiple
cable-ties. The purpose of this strange tether remained a curious
(but rather ominous) mystery.
There was also another of the large, flat-screen monitors mounted on
the wall, and Megan
could see images of her helpless self in three of the four windows
painting its screen. Two provided overall views of the cage and
occupant, one from the front, and one from above. The third was a
closeup of her gagged face. Megan could see the way the
deceptively delicate, translucent film sealing her lips conformed to
her pursed lips, as well as her freckles, the lashes
of her tired, green eyes, and even the tiny, countless hairs covering
her skin. The miracle of HDTV,
window appeared to be a readout of her
respiration and heart rates. I
guess the cable links to medical sensors built into the jacket,
she reasoned, and closed her eyes.
Betty's tickle-torture of Megan's helpless self had been the ordeal
she'd feared it would be... but she'd made it through with her mind and
body intact. She sighed and willed herself to sleep, studiously
ignoring the knot of despair in her stomach that threatened to
overwhelm her spirit.
Minutes passed and Megan achieved her immediate goal. Her
breathing and heart rates slowed, and she dozed in her inescapable
Suddenly, a previously dark LED began flashing on the "medical monitor"
device. At the same time, the rubber wedge cleaving Megan's sex
began to vibrate, throbbing with delicate
energy, pulsing and
shivering. It wasn't enough to wake the helpless captive, but
from the way she began slowly squirming and tugging on her
straitjacket, it was making its presence felt.
Minutes passed and Megan continued to writhe and struggle. In
addition, the camera tracking her tape-gagged face captured her eyes
rolling under their closed lids. In the medical monitor window,
the trace of her heart rate had accelerated.
Megan was in REM sleep, lost in her dreams, one aspect of her person
captors could not control...
not completely, anyway.
TASK FORCE OFFICES IN CRYSTAL CITY
exactly does 'work the list' mean?" Veronica huffed.
"We take the list of contacts the NSA gave us," Lindsay explained, "and
start expanding the file on each business."
Veronica sighed. "I'm okay," she complained. "None the
worse for wear, and I should be at the Hoover Building with Dana
and Claudia. I don't need to be coddled."
Lindsay sighed. "Ronnie, she's protecting you, not coddling you."
Veronica bristled. "I don't need protecting."
"At this stage in your career," Lindsay said, patiently, "the last
thing you need is to be introduced to the top brass at the Bureau as
Scully's wise-ass rookie who let herself get captured by her first
Veronica took several seconds to digest her partner's words... then
cracked a wry smile. "Okay, I am
a wise-ass, but it's not fair for Dana to take all the heat."
"Fair has nothing to do with it," Lindsay said, shaking her head.
"It goes with being in command. When we catch those bitches, all
will be forgiven."
"It's not fair," Veronica repeated.
Lindsay grinned. "Yes, but speaking of not fair, why do you
suppose she took
Claudia with her?"
Veronica blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"The 'good ol' boys' will go easier on Dana with a
foreign cop in the room," Lindsay explained. "But the real reason... did you see the
dress Claudia was wearing?"
Veronica blinked again, then smiled. "Oh! I get it.
wish I could shake
my rack and mesmerize a room full of top brass."
"Never underestimate the value of a dimpled smile," Lindsay chuckled,
"and you're well-equipped in that regard."
"Takes one to know one," Veronica countered; then, her smile
faded. "What do you think Megan and Gracie are going through,
Lindsay shook her head. "Don't go there, Ronnie. They need
you—they need us—to
concentrate on our work."
Veronica sighed. "How do you do it?" she whispered.
"You just do it," Lindsay muttered. "If you can't learn to handle
stuff like this, you need to find a different career."
Veronica nodded, and reached for the first file in the stack of
contacts. She opened the folder, then paused. "Say...
"Do you have any European contacts? Do you know anyone across the
pond you can
call? Call professionally,
Lindsay gazed at her young partner. "Not really. What do
you have in mind?"
"We should start working the list from both sides of the Atlantic,"
suggested. "I know someone from when I was at Quantico. She
was over here
for a symposium and we met in the gym. Emily Sommers, from
Scotland Yard." She sighed and went back to scanning the
folder. "No, I should let Claudia make some calls when she gets
Lindsay smiled. "I think working both sides is a
good idea. Make your call and I'll start things from this end."
"But should I call Scotland Yard without Dana's permission? It
violates some protocol."
Lindsay smiled. "If you need permission, I'm the senior partner
and I say make the call. Dana can yell at me if she wants, but
she won't. It's a good idea."
Veronica smiled and reached for the phone.
Gracie had surprised
herself by actually getting some
After her enema—which she didn't want to think about—she had been
"fed", as promised, which turned out to
mean swallowing a healthy portion of some sort of thick, semi-fluid
slop, delivered through a hose attached to a specialized, mouth-sealing
gag. Afterward, she'd been transferred to a gurney
and strapped down on her back in what appeared to be standard,
four-point hospital restraints. The butternut leather cuffs on
her ankles and wrists secured her arms at her sides and her legs
straight, with her ankles about a foot apart. Additional
leather straps were buckled from side-rail to side-rail, across her
and thighs. The cuffs were buckled tight, but none of
the tethering straps were especially stringent.
Gracie had to
admit that she was more-or-less
comfortable, with enough slack in her bonds to roll about, at least a
however, all the buckles and attachment points were secured with
locking tabs. As always, as she had been from the moment she'd
awakened to find
herself Bondarella's prisoner, Gracie was helpless.
Her kidnappers wheeled her down the hallway and into a new
concrete and cinder block chamber.
They locked the wheels of the gurney, then her gag was unbuckled and
rubber plug pulled from her mouth; but before Gracie could do more than
her lips, once, and before she could even compose a pithy remark, a
strip of translucent medical tape sealed her lips.
Belladonna leaned close and smoothed the tape with her gloved
fingers. "There... nice and comfy," she cooed.
"Nightie-night, Miss New Jersey." She cupped Gracie's breasts
and gave them a gentle squeeze, then her mask
turned to her mistress. "A strap-on vibrator, perhaps?
Entertainment for the long, dark, lonely night?"
Bondarella paused, considering her answer. "No," she said,
finally. "I think we'll let Agent Hart rest. Even
subliminal 'entertainment' will interfere with the recharging of her
batteries, and you want her at her best in the morning, don't you?"
Belladonna's answer was to give Gracie's breasts a final squeeze, then
spin on her booted heel and leave the chamber.
Bondarella followed, closing and locking the door. Seconds later,
the lights clicked out and Gracie was alone... helpless and alone in
She thought of Megan, wondering what was happening to her. Were
they letting her sleep?
Normal sleep... without the drugs... She
hoped so. She knew there was
little chance her colleagues would find them before their kidnappers
did more to them... but who knew? They might catch a break.
happen. Besides... the alternative to unfounded optimism was
misery and despair. Be strong,
Megan! Gracie thought. Help
Eventually, she managed to fall asleep—
—then snapped awake when the lights
clicked on and a key rattled in the
The door opened and Belladonna sauntered into the chamber, pushing a
cart. Numerous things were on the cart, but whatever they were,
they were hidden under a
white cloth. Belladonna left the cart to the side, even with the
foot of the gurney, then stepped to
side-rail and gazed down at Gracie.
Gracie gazed back. She was trying for an angry glare, but fear
her efforts. Today is the day,
Today is the day she does things to me.
"Good morning," Belladonna purred. "Let's get right to
it, shall we? I can have my breakfast a little later." She
unlocked the strap across Gracie's chest, then gave it a strong tug,
tightening it to the point that it dimpled Gracie's skin and pressed
firmly into the soft padding. Next, she tightened the
waist strap, and then the straps of the wrist cuffs, locking Gracie's
wrists hard against the side-rails. Now, from the waist up,
squirming her body and lifting her head were Gracie's only
options. Belladonna released and removed
the strap across Gracie's thighs, then stepped to the head of the
Gracie heard a click and a whir, and Belladonna walked back down to the
the gurney; only now she had the end of a light steel cable in her
hand. She snapped
its terminal clip through a ring on the side of Gracie's left ankle
cuff, and released the cuff's strap from the side-rail. The whir
and the cable began to shorten. Obviously, it was attached
to some sort of electric winch. Gracie's foot and leg were pulled
towards her head. She tried to resist, but the winch's motor
easily overcame her efforts. The cable didn't lock until her left
ankle was past her shoulders.
Belladonna reattached the ankle cuff's strap to the side-rail at this
new position, detached
the cable and carried it to the right side of the gurney, and repeated
process with Gracie's right leg. The captive was now flat on her
back with both legs nearly straight and pulled up and to either side of
body. It was something close to the full pike position of a
competitive dive, but with her ankles spread
the width of the gurney. Her thighs formed a "V",
with her naked sex at the point. Belladonna tightened an
each of Gracie's knees and to their respective side-rails, and Gracie
now found she could barely squirm any
part of her body.
The catsuited criminal caressed Gracie's right thigh with her gloved
hand. "Delicious," she purred. "Just look at that pretty
all plump and pink... and on such prominent display." She stepped
to the foot
of the gurney
and stomped her foot on something near
floor. There was
loud click, a hydraulic hiss, and the lower half of the gurney dropped
away, folding from the horizontal
to the vertical, with the hinge somewhere under Gracie's hips.
now that pussy's even more prominent,"
Gracie lifted her head and gazed down her helpless body. Her abs
were locked in
full crunch, of course, and her thigh and leg muscles were stretched
pretty close to their limits, and felt as taut as the
this punishing pose.
Belladonna folded back the cloth on the cart, then returned to the foot
of the gurney. In her right hand—Gracie's eyes popped wide—she
electric razor! She clicked it on, then began running its steel
Gracie's pubic bush.
Gracie shivered, squirmed, and glared
at her tormentor as her bush was rapidly reduced to
a patch of dark
"I know that tickles like crazy," Belladonna purred, "the vibrating
razor, I mean. Dreadfully sorry."
Bitch! Gracie fumed, then
her eyes widened, again. Belladonna had returned the razor to
the cart—and now she had a shaving mug and brush! "I favor an
ice-cold, mentholated lather. Not for myself, of course. I tried it
once, and the feeling was simply dreadful.
I'm defoliating someone else."
Gracie flinched as her
crotch and pubic bush were slathered with a generous coating of cold, white foam. She watched
Belladonna take the mug back to the cart, and return with a hand towel
and a narrow, stainless
steel safety razor.
"Triple-blade, Swiss-made," she explained, spinning the razor in her
gloved hand. "Only the very best for our Beauty Queen. The
head is only a third as wide as a masculine face-razor, but I find it
just the thing for maneuvering around all the delicate nooks,
crannies, crinkles, and folds of a
splayed pussy." She proceeded to give Gracie's crotch a very thorough
shave, using her fingers to stretch, pull, and manipulate the skin, as
Gracie closed her eyes and tried to ignore what was happening to her...
the delicate scrape of the razor... the sharp, cool sting of the
menthol foam... the abject humiliation.
Task accomplished, Belladonna used the towel to remove the remaining
foam. "There... slick and hairless, just like on your twelfth
birthday," she remarked, as she
returned the razor and towel to the cart. Now, a small
spray-bottle was in her gloved hand. "Aftershave," she explained,
spritzed a generous cloud of mist over Gracie's crotch.
Gracie shivered, clenched her hands into fists, and curled her
toes. The "aftershave" burned...
and then was gone. Her labia and the
surrounding skin felt cool and... tingly.
focused on her kidnapper—and
again, her eyes popped wide!
Belladonna had a small leather flogger in her right hand, and was using
it to slap the gloved palm of her left hand. Whack! It was black, with a
braided handle. Its twenty or so shoelace-thin tails were pliant,
thin, and only about a foot in length.
"And now we can
begin," Belladonna announced.
Gracie's heart was pounding. She watched in helpless horror as
Belladonna's right hand drew back... the leather tails hissed—and her
masked and catsuited kidnapper delivered a stinging blow
to her crotch! Gracie bucked against the straps and screamed through her tape-sealed
lips. A second blow landed, this
time on the inside of
her left thigh, and she screamed again! There was a pause.
Gracie panted through flaring nostrils and she watched Belladonna
the head of the
gurney. There was another swish—and the sole of
Gracie's right foot exploded in
Another pause. "I'm forgetting something," Belladonna
purred. "Oh... that's
right... breakfast. Silly me." She returned the flogger to
the cart, pulled the cloth cover back in place, then stepped to the
left side-rail and gazed down at her captive. To Gracie, her
beautiful, lifeless mask had never seemed more sinister. "You
have an hour to think about what's to come, while I enjoy my
meal. Then... just wait 'til you
see what else I have on my
Gracie watched as Belladonna strolled out the door and pulled it
closed. The lock rattled and the lights winked out—all but one,
single pin-spot focused on her now totally hairless
sex. Her heart was still hammering, and tears welled in her
eyes. She blinked and willed herself to relax. Panic was
futile and counterproductive, and it was not an escape. There was no escape. She
knew she would have to endure what was to
come... whatever it was... whatever else was waiting on Belladonna's
cart", in addition to that hellish flogger.
Now would be a really good time for
a miraculous break in the case, she prayed. Let Dana and the others find something...
find us! Please?