by Van © 2004
		Chapter 6

Kelly filled the funnel of her "timer" with exactly eight perfect ice cubes.  According to her previous experiments, they would melt to the point that the scissor-clamp securing the friction clamp would release sometime between 4:45 and 5 PM; more than enough time for her to release herself and get ready for Dawn's arrival at 6 PM.

With a nervous sigh Kelly peeled off all of her clothes and carefully put them away.  She pattered into the bathroom and relieved herself, rinsed her suddenly dry mouth, then gazed into the mirror above the sink.  The ball-gag was already dangling around her throat like some absurd bauble.  She lifted the pink, unpainted sphere of rubber and placed it between her teeth, pulling the black rubber loop of the strap to the nape of her neck and under her hair.  She opened her jaw and wiggled her tongue, and the smooth, rounded rubber of the strap snugged the ball even further into her mouth.  Her hands at her sides, she worked her lips and jaw muscles.  She could shift the ball slightly from side to side, could even force it out a fraction of an inch, but as soon as she relaxed, it settled back into place.  

She spoke around the pink intrusion.  "Hell!  Hel-ee!"  Her garbled plea for help sounded loud in the confined, tiled space, but she knew herself to be adequately gagged.  She picked up her hairbrush, did a quick, unnecessary straightening of her hair, then returned to the bedroom.

She'd already prepared the restraints on the bed.  Each of the cuffs awaiting her ankles and left wrist were lashed to the bedpost rings with three strands of dark jade rope traveling from bedpost ring to cuff ring; then numerous neat bands closely wrapped the strands like the whippings a hangman's knot.  The final knots were tied at the bedpost rings with the free ends tucked neatly out of sight.  The rope for the right cuff was tied to the bedpost ring, pulled through the cuff ring, back through the bedpost ring, through the cuff ring again, back through the bedpost ring a final time, then up to the friction clamp locked in the bedpost's scissor-clamp.  The remaining long free end of the rope trailed back to the bed.

Kelly climbed onto the mattress.  She did a crunch and secured her right ankle, wrapping the soft, broad, leather cuff tight and making sure the velcro closure was secure.  Her left ankle followed, then she lay flat on her back, wiggled and stretched herself until the ankle ropes were taut, and reached for the left cuff.  Securing her left wrist was difficult.  She'd wanted to stretch herself as tautly as possible, but the lack of slack caused problems.  She finally succeeded in wrapping and securing the left cuff, then started on the right.  It was awkward, but the long free end of the rope allowed her to accomplish the task.

Next came the tedious task of reeling in the slack.  The rope from the friction-clamp passed through her right hand and to her left.  She used her right to tug and pull on the rope, her left to pass the slack to an untidy heap against the headboard.  Eventually, as the rope shortened, her right hand became less and less effective and she shifted the work to her left.  Every now and then she'd pause and tug on her right cuff, gauging if her right arm was as tautly stretched as her left.  Kelly knew she had already passed the point of no return, was already stretched to the point that it was impossible for her to release herself; but she wanted to do this right.

The captive tugged and tugged with her left hand until the unaccustomed action was threatening to make the muscles of her palm cramp.  She paused and tested the right cuff.  It felt right.  She carefully gathered the bulk of the slack rope with her left hand and tossed it towards the headboard.  It thudded against the dark oak, then slithered down the crack between the mattress and the bottom of the board and out of sight.  She released the section still held in her right hand and it followed the rest.

Kelly closed her eyes... and slowly opened them.  She was flat on her back... naked... her arms and legs flung wide in a spread-eagle.  She lifted her head and looked.  Tight cuffs captured her wrists and ankles!  She could feel a rubber ball strapped in her mouth!  "M'mmpfh!"  She was gagged and bound and helpless!  "Hell!  Hel-ee!  HEEELL!"  She knew no one was going to hear her.  She was far from rescue, and totally helpless.  She pulled on her bonds, but her arms remained outstretched, her legs splayed wide, her sex and the rest of her naked body uncovered and exposed.  She moaned through her gag and continued struggling.   Oh God!  Somebody help me!

Kelly could feel her sex getting wetter and wetter, but that thought was far in the back of her mind.  She was lost in her fantasy.  She was a prisoner, and eventually her captor would return and... and reach out with strong, pale hands... and do things to her.  She had to escape!  She had to get away!

Kelly pulled on her bonds with all her strength, then went limp, panting and tossing her head, trying to clear the tousled curls from her face.  She was beginning to sweat, and her nipples were rock hard.  An orgasm was building.  She could feel it.   Help me!  It would be a long, slow climb, but eventually...   Oh please help me!  She tugged on her bonds again, using all the strength of her body on the left... then on the right.  Lost in the world of the kidnapped maiden, Kelly failed to notice the very quiet metallic squeak or the fractional twist her last effort had caused in the bedpost's scissor clamp.

Princess Kellan trudged towards the Rose Tower, her heart hammering in her chest.  She was still bound and gagged, lugging Duana's pack, and linked by collar chain to her leather-clad captor.  As they came closer to the tangled thicket of roses surrounding the ruined castle, she could see the vines were as thick as her thumbs, some as thick as her wrists!  Their thorns were like nothing she had ever seen, all of them thick and sharp and long.  Duana pulled the magic key out from under her shirt and waved it towards the castle, letting it dangle on its long silver chain.

The wind quickened, slowly building until Kellan's hair was flailing about her head.  It was a strange wind, hot and dry, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.  Through the fluttering mass of red curls, Kellan could see the rose bushes and vines thrashing and swaying.  As the caravan of two approached the green border, the closest vines were waving in the wind like whips.  Kellan mewed through her gag, but Duana pulled her collar chain taut and dragged her forward.

Their feet were on the faint remnants of the road leading towards the castle's ruined gate, and they had to step over rooted vines thick as small tree trunks.  Curiously, none of the wind driven branches or vines brushing against them did any damage.  Their fearsome thorns were always drawn in a direction that rendered them harmless.  Kellan could feel them slide over her exposed skin and through her hair, but they left not a single scratch or cut, nor did they tangle in her hair.  

Maid Dallas' serving girl costume wasn't so lucky.  By the time they arrived in the vicinity of the gatehouse, it was hanging from Kellan's body in ribbons, barely preserving a modicum of decency.  This was most distressing.  Bound as she was, Kelly could do nothing to prevent her nipples from peeking between the tattered ribbons of the ruined blouse.

This close to the heap of stones that was the castle, the rose bushes were indeed trees, with trunks as thick as mature oaks with strong, horizontal limbs, and their thorns were as long as daggers.  The air under the canopy was hot and still and heavy with the scent of decay and the sweet perfume of rose blossoms.  The light was dappled and blue-green.  The upper branches were still moving in the wind, and all around them the unnatural forest creaked and groaned.  More than once Kellan thought she heard a deep voice calling her name.  She looked to the side, and beheld a skeleton in a set of antiquated armor.  The ancient corpse's feet were trapped in thick roots, and more vines looped the skeleton's armored arms and chest.  Thorns had long since punctured the ruined plate.  A rusty ax with a badly notched blade was by the fallen warrior's side.  The visor of the helmet was open, and a rose vine was growing out of the skull's right eye-socket.  The left socket was empty and staring.

Kellan caught movement from the corner of her eye, turned her head, and mewed through her gag.  An ant was clamoring along a vine, coming towards them, and it was huge, its head as big as Kellan's fist, its body nearly the length of her forearm!  The monster was a waxy red, dull and dark on its upper surfaces, bright as blood below.  There was more movement, and Kellan realized dozens of the giant insects were following at a discrete distance as Duana dragged her deeper and deeper into this terrible place.

Duana ignored Kellan's attempted warnings, tugged on her chain again, and they were through the threshold of the gatehouse.  The instant they entered the dark, cavernous entrance, the wind stopped and the ants turned, as if losing interest.  Kellan turned to the front, and perhaps thirty paces ahead she could see two squat columns supporting an arch of stone blocks.  Between was a pair of massive, ironbound, timber doors. As they approached, Kellan could see the timbers were rosewood, and the ornate ironwork was in the form of stylized rose vines and they were bristling with lethal-looking thorns.

The doors opened on silent hinges, propelled by some unseen force.  Beyond was a dark corridor with many side passages.  As Duana dragged her along, Kellan looked nervously from side to side.  There wasn't enough light to see anything clearly, but things were moving in the inky shadows, and she could see several pairs of glowing eyes marking their progress; some large, some small, and some closely spaced, as if a single watching head held several pair.  Kellan bit down on her gag and fought a rising sense of panic.

Another pair of doors opened, revealing a vast, torch lit, circular chamber.  It had a domed ceiling supported by tall, plain columns spaced evenly along the walls.  Opposite the door an ascending set of steps led to a dais.  On the dais, standing before a golden throne, was a woman.  She was clothed in a long, flowing robe of blood red silk over a pleated gown of cloth-of-gold.  Her hair was long and straight, the color of sunbleached straw, and it flowed down her back, nearly to the floor.  Even from across the room, Kellan could tell the woman was very beautiful, the most beautiful woman Kellan had ever seen in her young life.

They crossed the chamber to the steps.  Duana grabbed a fistful of Kellan's hair and forced her forward and to her knees.  The bound redhead mewed through her gag, lifted her chin, and gazed up at the sorceress.  The blonde beauty on the dais had to be the Sorceress of the Rose Tower.  She could be none other.

Duana cast the end of Kellan's chain to the floor, then put her right hand on the pommel of her sheathed sword.  "Your precious princess," she announced, and released Kellan's hair.  "My debt is paid, and I demand my reward."

The sorceress slowly descended the steps, her silk cape billowing behind, her gown parting as she walked, revealing her long, pale legs and bare feet.  She gazed into Kellan's eyes, a gloating smile on her perfect lips, then shifted her gaze to Duana, and her smile became hard.  "I'll tell you when your task is complete, Sword Maiden.  I sense a third life force.  What else have you brought me?"

Duana opened the knapsack still on Kellan's back and rummaged until she produced the magical shrinking trunk.  She set it on the floor several feet to the side, used the key to restore it to full size, and unlocked the lid.  She then reached inside, grabbed a handful of dark blonde locks, and hauled Maid Dallas to her knees.  The nude, gagged, and thoroughly bound serving girl stared at her surroundings with wide, terrified eyes.  "No extra charge," Duana purred.

Kelly lay in her bonds, basking in the afterglow of what had been one crashing orgasm.  Her skin was glistening with a film of sweat and she was panting around her ball-gag and through her flaring nostrils.  She tugged weakly on her bonds, confirming that they were still secure.  She pulled harder on her left cuff, watching the muscles of her arm bunch and glide under her flushed, glowing skin.

Kelly was getting a bit of a chill.  She guessed she had at least an hour to wait until her timer triggered the scissor-clamp and she'd be able to free herself, but she'd just as soon take a hot shower now, thank you.  She's very cruel to leave me like this, Kelly mused, fantasizing that Dawn Behr was the author of her predicament, and not Kelly herself.  Tying me up naked... gagging me... playing with me until I cum... all so she can enjoy my helplessness and embarrassment.  The monster!  By this time the sweat had more or less evaporated and the chill was passing, but her nipples were still hard and a sprinkling of gooseflesh covered her arms, shoulders, and thighs.  She tugged on her inescapable bonds and moaned through her gag.  Monster!  

Maybe she'd have time to build to another explosion.   Kelly craned her neck and gazed up at her timer mechanism.  She couldn't gauge the progress of the melting of the ice cubes in the upper funnel, or the amount of meltwater in the collection bottle.  The cobalt blue plastic bottles she had used may be stylish, but they might as well be opaque black from this angle.  Kelly didn't really mind.  She'd purposely turned her alarm clock so she couldn't see the face.  She'd rely on physics to set her free on time.  In the meanwhile... she was deliciously helpless, with no rescue in sight.  Monster!   Kelly stretched and tugged on her bonds yet again, then snuggled against the slightly damp, slightly ruffled bed sheets, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

Kelly woke with a start.  Was that a sound?  She listened for several seconds... and decided her ears were playing tricks on her.  She was still tied to her bed and gagged.  The timer hadn't released, so it still must be at least an hour before Dawn was scheduled to arrive.  She gazed out the windows.  The shadows seemed longer than they should have been... as if it were later.  She glanced up at the timer and still couldn't gauge its progress.  She pulled on her cuffs, one by one, then froze in her bonds.  A sound...  She'd definitely heard something this time...  Hadn't she?

Then it was unmistakable—footsteps!  Kelly craned her neck, and Dawn Behr was at the bedroom door!  She was dressed in a sundress; white, with a subtle pattern of pale flowers.  Her expression was one of mild shock—which changed to a wolfish grin of knowing amusement.

"Oh," Dawn purred.  "That's why you didn't answer the door."

Kelly moaned through her gag in despair and pulled on her bonds, her cheeks burning.  She was beyond mortified.  There was no word for the depth of her embarrassment.

Dawn walked to the bed and gazed at Kelly's timing device.  "Very clever," she said finally, and shifted her attention to the prisoner on the bed.  "The Brat used a bucket on the floor for her collector."  Dawn's hands went to the rope passing through the friction clamp.  She thumbed the release and began pulling the long free end through the clamp, but maintained the pressure on Kelly's right wrist cuff.  The captive tugged and pulled, but could do nothing to prevent her guest, now captor, from tying a quick knot, then whipping the rope around and around the strands linking the bedpost ring and the cuff ring.  Soon the arrangement was more or less identical to the other three cuffs: taut, neat, stylish, and with no possibility of Kelly reaching any knots or releasing the cuff's velcro closures.

Dawn's hands traveled up to the bedpost hook.  "Ah, I see the problem," she purred.  "Debbie discovered it as well... under similar circumstances."  She pointed at the scissor-clamp.  "Excess force will cause the clamp to rack to the side and bind.  Not every time... just now and then.  All it takes to make things right is a gentle shake of the hook."  She did so, and the now empty friction clamp fell to the floor.

This made no difference in Kelly's predicament, of course.  She was still spread-eagled and helpless... kidnapped for real!  And she was still blushing furiously; however, to her infinite surprise, a thrill of pleasure coursed through her sex and she shuddered in her bonds.

Dawn gazed down at Kelly's naked, stretched body, doing nothing to mask her appreciation of the redhead's toned, athletic physique.  Still blushing furiously, Kelly slowly twisted her wrists in their tight cuffs.  A heartbreakingly piteous moan escaped her gag.  "Oh, Poor Baby," Dawn cooed, her expression amused but not unkind.  She turned and strolled to the bathroom, then returned with a washcloth and guest towel, both in an earthy cinnamon color.  With a mischievous grin she folded the washcloth in half and draped it between Kelly's legs, covering (barely) her pubic bush and sex, then folded the guest towel in half as well, and draped it across the prisoner's breasts.  It covered Kelly's still pointing nipples, but the upper, lower, and outside slopes of her breasts were still largely exposed.  "There," she said.  "Now you're decent."  Kelly pulled on her bonds in mortified frustration, then went still when the motion threatened to make her new loin and breast coverings slide from her naked body.

Clearly enjoying her new friend's situation, Dawn sat on the bed, leaned forward, and straightened Kelly's red locks, gently combing them to either side of her abashed, crimson face.  "Such pretty hair," she whispered, idly twisting one long, copper-red curl between her fingers.  Dawn let her gaze wander over the sinuous details of Kelly's pinioned form.  Kelly shuddered under her captor's leering inspection, continuing to tug weakly on her cuffs.  Dawn's gaze returned to Kelly's face, and their eyes locked.  "Well... I guess we need to talk," Dawn said finally, and reached for Kelly's gag.