by Van © 2004
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actresses I would cast in a boxing kelly motion picture,
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"Maid Deborah's" feet for the better part of two minutes. The
hapless "serving girl" struggled and writhed, tugged on her leather
manacles and twisted her stock-bound, toe-tied feet to the limit of
their captivity. She also giggled through her gag, of course, her
eyes wide with
distress. The quill slithered and slid over Debbie's dirty soles
and between her wiggling toes, sometimes gliding in slow circles,
in long strokes. The poor girl's face was flushed, sweat beading
on her forehead and between her heaving breasts.
Kelly paused in her labors and smiled at Dorey's camera. "Surely
this is enough?" Debbie nodded in enthusiastic agreement, then
clinched her eyes tightly closed and whined through her gag as Kelly
tickling her feet. "Or do you need more?" the gloating "princess"
Dorey smiled and pulled the memory stick from her camera. "All
done," she announced, then turned and started walking towards the
house. "I'll start lunch."
"I'll help!" Dawn called after her, then stepped forward and whispered
in Kelly's ear. Debbie watched with growing apprehension,
especially as Kelly's smile turned somewhat... feral. Dawn blew
her captive little sister a kiss, then hurried after Dorey.
Still smiling and still twirling the dreaded feather, Kelly strolled
from the foot of the stocks to Debbie's side. Princess and
Serving Girl locked eyes for several long seconds... then Kelly tucked
the quill in Debbie's left braid and reached for the knot of her gag.
The folded cloth fell free and Debbie spit out the wadding.
"You're a horrible, horrible person," she muttered, the
twinkle in her
eyes belying her words.
"I do my best," Kelly purred, pulled over a wooden stool, and sat down.
"Dawn tells me you're a writer."
Debbie tugged on the manacles binding her wrists before answering.
"I dabble," she admitted. "I'm nowhere close to being a
real writer... like you."
"Let me see your work," Kelly suggested, a kind smile on her face.
"No!" Debbie answered, blushing furiously.
"You think I learned to write all on my own? You think I didn't
Debbie pulled on her bonds. "I'm not ready," she whined.
Kelly chuckled. "Let me be the judge of that."
Kelly's smile turned decidedly coy. "Is there nothing I can say
to persuade you?"
Debbie shook her head, still blushing.
Kelly reached out and plucked the quill from Debbie's hair.
"Nothing I can do?"
Debbie's jaw dropped and her eyes popped wide. "You wouldn't."
Smiling evilly, Kelly nodded. "It's for your own good, Deb.
You'll thank me for this someday."
Debbie squirmed and pulled on her bonds as Kelly repositioned the stool
(and herself) to the stocks, opposite Debbie's wriggling feet.
"Please! I... I... ehhh! Stop!"
Kelly had used her feather to give Debbie's left sole a long, slow
lick. "Last chance."
"You rat!" Debbie accused. "I—arrr—AHHH-EHH-YEEE!"
Kelly was tickling Debbie's feet in earnest, working over the soles and
toes of both feet, rapidly switching from one to the other. Her
frenzied victim giggled, squealed, squirmed, and struggled.
"What the hell is going on back here???"
Kelly and Debbie looked up to find Dawn, hands on hips and a
disapproving frown on her face.
"Uh-I-Debbie won't let me read her stories," Kelly explained, blushing
"Kelly's torturing me!" Debbie said simultaneously; panting,
sweating, and smiling at her rescuer.
Dawn shook her head, stepped forward, and thrust the wadding of
Debbie's gag back in her mouth. Outraged and dismayed, Debbie
mumbled, and glared at her sister as she tightened the
cleave-gag. Dawn gave the knot a final cinch (causing Debbie to
wince), then shook her right index finger at Kelly. "Between the
power tools and Dorey's sewing machine, there's enough noise
here," she explained. "Please keep your victim gagged from now
She kissed Debbie's forehead, smiled at Kelly, spun on her heel,
and sauntered away. "Lunch in half an hour," she called back over
Kelly and Debbie's heads swiveled and their eyes locked. Kelly
smiled... Debbie whined piteously... Kelly twirled her feather...
and Debbie countered with her most heart-rending gagged pout.
"Oh..." Kelly whispered, "I just love those big, sad,
She shifted her attention to Debbie's wriggling toes and leaned
forward. "And just look at these plump little piggies."
Kelly stretched, rolled her shoulders, and twirled her feather.
"When you've had enough... just nod your head."
Princess Kellan languished in her golden bonds and golden
cage for some time. Darkness hung like a shroud, and the only
sounds were her own gagged breathing and the metallic clinks and
scrapes of her bonds bumping and sliding against the bars of her cage
as she tried to find some degree of comfort.
Hours passed... it had to be hours... and nothing changed...
save her growing hunger... and thirst... and the aching soreness of her
limbs from lack of motion. She tried to sleep, but was rewarded
with short, fitful naps. She would lean against her cage (a
less than an inch, as the gibbet-like encasement fit her standing body
like a glove), close her eyes... dream of home... then snap awake to
herself still a bound, caged, and helpless prisoner, far, far from home.
Suddenly, the darkness lifted and Kellan found herself in an elegant
circular chamber. The floor was a mosaic of polished stone tiles
depicting horned and bearded satyrs and loosely clothed female nymphs
dancing, feasting, and making love. Glazed windows in the marble
walls and the dome far overhead admitted sunlight and a view of the
vines covering the Rose Tower. A low table surrounded by couches
and piles of cushions occupied the central space. The table groaned
with plates and platters. Every delicacy known to Princess
Kellan was on display. Roasted meats, whole fowl, large and
stews and pies, sauces and gravies, wine, beer, ale, and mead...
empty stomach growled, her nostrils flared at the complex, delicious
and her gagged mouth found new reason to drool.
Kellan's cage hung from a chain, several yards above the floor.
There was no second chain linking her to the floor as there had been
before. She wiggled in her bonds and the cage shimmied and
swayed. Kellan caught movement from the corner of one eye, turned
her head, and watched The Sorceress drift into view. As before,
her feet were off the floor and and her red robe and long, blonde hair
were billowing in her wake.
The Sorceress settled to the floor and reclined on a couch. Her
cape and golden gown settled themselves into elegant folds and her hair
slithered down her back to hang glossy and straight. She glanced
up at her red-haired prisoner and smiled. "If you promise to be a
well-behaved guest," she said, "you may join me for repast." She
her right hand and made a complex gesture.
The cage began to change, the bars bending, shrinking, growing,
releasing and reattaching. Kellan's body was carried along
through the metamorphosis. Her knees were folded, she was bent at
the waist, and she was forced into a fetal tuck, her gold-covered
breasts pressed against her thighs, her ankles snugged against her
buttocks, and her brank-caged chin resting on her knees. The cage
bars held her in this pose.
The Sorceress closed her hand and the bars began to squeeze.
Kellan whined through her gag and her eyes popped wide in distress.
"Ill manners will not be tolerated," the Sorceress announced, and
opened her hand.
The cage cracked like an egg and Kellan dropped towards the floor.
She mewed through her gag as she fell—then found herself floating
above a couch. Her brank and its gag were gone, and her manacle
cuffs, ankle cuffs, and the torques on her upper arms were unattached.
She settled into the couch's soft cushions, her former restraints
now golden jewelry. She squirmed and found a comfortable position
(in which her
crotch shield and breast cups didn't pinch or bind). After her
bondage, Kellan wanted to stretch her limbs and roll her
but such behavior was unladylike at table.
Her stomach was still growling, and the Sorceress' "repast" was now
within reach, but Kellan was not broken. "Why am I here?" she
demanded, her gaze on her smiling, gloating captor. "What are you
going to do to me?"
The Sorceress picked up the leg of a roast quail, dipped it in a
reddish brown sauce, and gave it a delicate lick. "Fair
purred, sucked the meat from the bone, and tossed the bone away.
debated keeping you in complete ignorance..." She used a small
to spear a cube of beef from a platter. "...to heighten your
apprehension." She chewed and swallowed the beef, then reached
for a morsel of lamb. "But there's something to be said for the gnawing
of knowing one's fate, don't you agree?"
Kellan glared at her captor, still ignoring the food spread before her.
The Sorceress popped an olive in her mouth, and smiled. "Several
years ago I came across a scroll with an ancient spell, a means of
gaining control of great powers. The 'living soul of the daughter
of a king' is one of the ingredients. I've spent a great deal of
effort gathering all that is required... and now I have it." She
reached for a tart-sized pie and devoured it in two bites. "What
am I going to do to you?" She favored her prisoner with a cruel
smile. "Many unbearably
painful and pleasurable things, for a very, very long time.
when your ordeal is over, I will be the most powerful mage this world
ever seen." She speared another cube of beef, dipped it in a
sauce, popped it in her mouth, and slowly chewed, her amused eyes
on her scantily clad, red-haired prisoner.
Kellan stared back with a carefull neutral (she hoped) expression,
trying not to surrender to panic. 'Unbearably painful and
"I'm sorry," the Sorceress purred. "Did I spoil your appetite?"
were crossed behind her back and bound with cotton clothesline.
More of the soft, braided rope bound her ankles, knees, and
elbows. She was seated in a straight chair in front of her
writing desk, her arms behind the chairback, and her feet tucked under
the seat. More rope lashed her in place, above and below her
breasts, across her shoulders, around
her waist, across her lap, and linking her wrists and ankles.
Three long, wide strips of white medical tape sealed her lips
over the crumpled bandana stuffed in her mouth.
Kelly, the author of Debbie's condition, was gracefully reclined on the
prisoner's bed, her bare feet crossed atop a big pillow. More
pillows were piled against the headboard and cushioned her head and
shoulders. Several of Debbie's spiral notebooks were scattered
about, and Kelly was studiously reading the latest, idly twisting a
curl of her red hair, carefully turning the pages, and pausing
occasionally to scratch a note in the stenographer's pad at her right
Both had changed from Dorey's costumes before lunch, donning jeans
and tank-tops, then had retired to Debbie's room for "The Reading."
They'd started with Debbie simply watching... but her nervous
pacing and constant interruptions to ask inane questions made it
impossible for Kelly to concentrate... at least that was her excuse to
get out the rope and tape.
Debbie twisted slowly in her bonds, concentrating on her bound wrists.
Kelly knows her stuff, she decided. Her groping
fingers couldn't reach a single knot, not the knots securing her ankles
wrists, her waist or lap in the chair, or the wrist bonds themselves.
could feel several different strands of rope, but no matter what she
no matter how she twisted, pulled, or tugged, none of the strands
She took hitches around the chair and the other ropes as she
went, the prisoner realized. I'm not going anywhere.
Kelly mumbled something under her breath, made a quick note
(underlining something three times), turned the page, and
What? Debbie wondered. What did she find? What
did I do wrong? It was excruciating to be helplessly bound
and gagged while her favorite author and friend read her work;
excruciating, humiliating... and exciting. She squirmed in her
chair and felt the slight wetness between her legs. A blush
colored her cheeks, the parts not covered by tape. She hates
it, the miserable captive decided.
Kelly flipped the page, frowned, riffled the rest of the notebook to
confirm it was empty, then turned her head to gaze at Debbie.
"This is it?" she asked, her expression neutral. Debbie
nodded, her blush deepening. "Damn!" Kelly cursed, closing the
notebook and tossing it aside. "I hate reading half a story."
She straightened the notebooks into a single stack, then swung
her legs off the bed and sat
up. "No outline, notes, anything to tell me where
this thing's going?"
Debbie shook her head. She hates it!
"I love it!" Kelly said, smiling. "It's a little rough in places,
but basically solid. I think with a little help... very little...
whip this into a first novel to be proud of. I'll help,
of course, both with the polishing and the publishing. I know I
get my agent interested, and..."
Debbie's eyes were wet, and as Kelly watched, a tear rolled down her
right cheek and the tape covering her mouth. "Poor thing," Kelly
whispered, went to Debbie's side, carefully peeled the tape from her
and pulled the bandana from her mouth. "Why are you crying?"
The chair-bound captive smiled up at Kelly. "You really like
it?" she asked. Kelly nodded. "Really?"
Kelly's smile broadened. "At some point you're going to have
to take 'yes' for an answer and stop fishing for compliments," she
purred, then found a tissue and gently wiped Debbie's eyes. "You
have a real talent, Debbie," she said, sitting back on the bed.
"I'd very much like to help it develop."
Debbie nodded. "Okay. What do we do?"
"You really don't have an outline for the rest of the plot?"
Debbie shook her head. "No idea where the rest of this
thing is going?"
Debbie squirmed in her bonds. "Well... I wouldn't go that far.
I... no. I'm waiting for my muse to tell me."
Kelly sighed and leaned back against the headboard pillows.
"There's nothing wrong with simply writing. Listening to
your inner voice
is good; but a plot needs structure. Characters need structure.
The reader may be surprised by things as they happen, but if the
foundation isn't solid, nothing rings true."
"Mixed metaphor," Debbie observed.
Kelly laughed. "Shut up and learn, newbie. Duana the sword
"Underdeveloped!" Kelly pronounced. "Why's she helping the
Sorceress? What's her back-story?"
Debbie squirmed again. "Uh... She's supposed to get a set
of invincible armor, and—"
"But why is she doing it?" Kelly interrupted. "Is she
just evil? Is she motivated by revenge for some past wrong?
she really good, but so twisted by life experience that she acts evil?"
Debbie's eyes were wet again. "I—"
"Stop that!" Kelly snapped. "That's the real reason you need
to outline and make notes before you start. It's too easy to get
defensive about your words. It's the story that's your
not the words."
Debbie smiled. "You aren't going to get all 'Plato's cave' on me,
are you? The words are shadows on the wall and only the story is
Kelly smiled back. "Your assignment, should you choose to accept
it... And I'll tickle you some more if you don't! ...is to
write a full page of notes on each of your characters: back-story,
physical description, attributes, traits, skills, weaknesses, motivation,
etc. That's one full page each and one page only on the
Princess, Dallas, Duana, and the Sorceress. Talk about
underdeveloped! The Sorceress is nearly a complete unknown.
Either justify that or fix it!"
"Yes, ma'am," Debbie said, still smiling.
"I'm not finished!" Kelly responded. "I want an outline of the
full story. I want the mechanics of how this plot is going to be
resolved; a straightforward blow-by-blow of the escape, battle, rescue,
or however you plan on resolving things. And if any additional
are involved, add them to the list of character notes."
Debbie's smile faded. "Yes, ma'am," she said again. "When
do you want all this?"
"I'm leaving for the promotional tour on my latest..." She nodded
towards the novel on Debbie's nightstand. "...on Monday, so you
luck out. When I was in school I used to have to do stuff like
this overnight, and more! Have your notes and outline ready when
I get back."
Kelly walked to Debbie's chest of drawers and pulled a fresh bandana
out of the top drawer, then strolled towards her new
protégé, folding the crisp cotton cloth into a wide
Debbie watched her new mentor approach, then sighed as the bandana
settled over her eyes, was cinched tight, and was knotted behind her
She heard a fresh strip of tape being ripped from the roll and
"You know, I could get started right away, if you'd let me."
"Teacher knows best," Kelly purred. "Lips together. Let's
see that cute little puppy-dog pout."
Debbie followed orders and the tape was pressed over her lips, then
pulled taut and smoothed by Kelly's strong hands.
"There," Kelly whispered, then kissed the top of Debbie's head.
"I'll check in with your sisters before I go, and see you get plenty
of time to think. I've got some work of my own waiting at
Debbie twisted in her bonds. She heard Kelly patter across the
floor towards her bedroom door.
"You really are good, Deb," Kelly said, "and I'll make you better."
A thrill coursed up Debbie's spine as she heard the door
close. Dawn is so lucky, the captive mused. And
too. I wish I had someone to do the 'squishy stuff' with.
She struggled in what she already knew to be her inescapable
her head to confirm her blindfold was on to stay, and mewed softly
her tape-gag. There must be some way I can get Dawnie to
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