Chattel Mountain Lodge Tales
                of Chattel Mountain Lodge
 by Van © 2006
To see the actors the author would cast in a CHATTEL MOUNTAIN LODGE anthology/mini-series (on premium cable, of course)
follow the link below, and use your browser's "Back" feature to return.  New cast members are added as they appear in the stories.

NOTE:  This is the second in the series Tales of CHATTEL MOUNTAIN LODGE.


It was a rack.  Like all such devices it was designed to stretch its victim, but this one was a little... unusual.

Its bed was a single, very long plank—thick, wide, and lightly padded with brown leather.  It was supported at waist height by posts and diagonal braces of heavy iron pipe, solidly bolted to the concrete floor.  Compact, stainless steel electric winches and drums wound with nylon rope were bolted to the head and foot of the plank and at several points on either side of its length.

Ninja was stretched, full length, on the rack.

She was nude, her ankles in padded suspension cuffs linked to the lower winch, and her wrists in similar cuffs to the upper winch.  Her fingers and hands were encased in padded bondage mitts.  Her big toes were tied together and connected to rings in the ankle cuffs.  The taut cords pulled her feet up and held them in the flexed position, the opposite of en pointe.

Finally—and this was what made the rack unusual—nylon rope was wound around Ninja's body and onto the drums of the side winches.  The pattern was complex.  Some of the ropes were linked together to form a Karada or diamond-hitch net that embraced her body from shoulders to shins.  Others were looped around and around her arms, torso, and legs, each starting at a padeye on one side of the rack and ending at a winch on the opposite.

Frieda and Joelle were the authors of Ninja's prediciment.  Frieda was dressed in black jodhpurs, riding boots, and a skin-tight, light blue tank-top.  Joelle was in a saddle-brown catsuit, with bronze buckles, deep red trim, and matching thigh boots and gloves.  Frieda's hair was pulled back in a ponytail, while Joelle's was in a tight bun.

"I don't like the name 'Constrictor Rack'," Frieda said as she secured the last of the lateral ropes, tightening it on the drum of its winch until the mechanism locked with a click.

"How 'bout 'Python Rack', then," Joelle suggested.  She reached out and gave one of Ninja's nipples a gentle squeeze.

"Better," Frieda conceeded.  Her smile turned decidedly evil, and she gave Ninja's free nipple a not so gentle squeeze.

Ninja winced, ever so slightly, but neither complained nor made a rack-naming suggestion of her own.  Stoicism aside, she was gagged.  A large foam ball was stuffed in her mouth and held there by a leather strap.  A wide rubber panel covered her lower face from just under her nostrils to the point of her chin.  The outline of her lips and the cleaving strap were clearly visible.

Frieda and Joelle released their grips and placed their hands on the sides of the rack, leaning forward and smiling at their helpless victim.  "I suppose we should explain how this thing works," Frieda purred.

"Might as well," Joelle agreed.

Frieda leaned closer and locked eyes with Ninja.  "The 'Python Rack' stretches and crushes at the same time," Frieda explained.  "The winches at the top and bottom do the stretching, and the side winches tighten the ropes."  She reached out and traced a length of nylon passing between Ninja's breasts, one of several ropes framing and squeezing the firm globes.  "There are tensionometers built into all the winches," she continued, "and everything is under computer control."  She leaned even closer.  "The process takes a very long time—millimeter by millimeter—hour after hour—each of the winches clicking in turn, one ratchet tooth at a time."  She kissed the rubber over Ninja's lips.  "The rope is waxed, so it will slide over your skin as it tightens.  I've never been on this ride..." She nodded towards Joelle.  "...but Joey can give you a testimonial."

Joelle leaned closer and kissed Ninja's forehead.  "I only went halfway," she explained.  "Breathing is the worst part.  The stretching is bad enough—but as the ropes crush your body, you can only breath in shallow pants."

"You, on the other hand," Frieda purred, "are going all the way."  She smiled, sweetly.  "It's going to be a long day, Ninja."

Frieda kissed Ninja's gag again, Joelle kissed each of her nipples, in turn, then both mistresses turned and left the chamber.  The door closed with a hollow clang, the bolt snicked home, and the lock turned.

Ninja tugged on her wrist and ankle cuffs and wiggled in the grip of the ropes encircling her body.  A shudder of dread rippled up her spine, then she took a deep breath—as deep as she could; the ropes were already somewhat tight—and steeled herself for the ordeal to come.

Seconds passed, the lights dimmed to a dull red glow; then all the winches clicked once, and began emitting a low, sinister hum.
Frieda and Joelle were in the adjoining room, before a large monitor.  Most of the screen was occupied by the image of Ninja and her rack.  Smaller windows at the margins displayed her vital signs and the current status of the rack's tensionometers.

"You sure you want to take the first watch?" Frieda asked as she tapped the key that triggered the rack program.

Joelle had unzipped her catsuit from collar to navel.  "You take your run," she said as she stretched and rolled her shoulders.  "I'll do my yoga when you get back."

Frieda opened a thermos, poured tea into its cup-shaped lid, and took a sip.  "Why not do it here?  I'll bring you your mat."

Joelle took the cup and sat in the workstation's well-padded chair.  "Summer's short enough around here," she answered.  "I'd rather do it on the deck."

Frieda smiled, leaned close, reached under the gaping front of Joelle's catsuit, and cupped her left breast.  "Silly me," she whispered.  "By all means, do whatever it takes to keep this body nice and nut brown."

"You're incorrigible," Joelle scolded, then pulled Frieda close and gave her a quick kiss.  "All night being entertained by Ninja, up before dawn making arrangements for Robyn and Tess, and now you want to paw me?  Go run!"

Frieda laughed and spun on her booted heels.  "I hate it that she showed up early," she said, nodding at the screen as she headed for the door.  "I hadn't finalized my plans yet.  It pisses me off when I have to improvise something so important."  She left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

"No kidding," Joelle muttered under her breath; then leaned back in the chair, put her feet up on the desk, and sipped her tea.  On the long, narrow window at the bottom of the screen, the slide bar that marked the progress of Ninja's ordeal was barely off the starting mark.
scroll bar

Being careful not to spill her remaining tea, Joelle reached to the side and turned on a second, smaller monitor.  Its screen brightened and resolved into the image of the interior of one of the sanitarium level's many "therapy rooms".
Robyn drifted back to consciousness.  It had been a glorious night.  Her memories towards the end, in what must have been the pre-dawn hours, were a little fuzzy.  Most of the night had been spent with Joelle, but towards the end there, before she sank into a deep, post-orgiastic coma, she had distinct memories of Frieda having joined the fun—her wet tongue teasing Robyn's right nipple, her lips smacking as she kissed Robyn's face, her fingers tightening straps and buckles—Robyn's eyes popped open and she tugged on her bonds.

She was in one of the sanitarium's medical suites—concrete walls painted the usual depressing shade of green, concrete floor and ceiling, stainless steel cabinets and equipment racks—she tugged on her bonds again, and twisted her body.

She was nude, flat on her back, on something they called a "gynecological frame".  The lodge had several models.  Some were antiques, and some were quite new.  Some were little more than the examining tables (with stirrups) found in any doctor's office (albeit a little enthusiastic with the straps and other restraints), and some were like something from a mad scientist's laboratory.

This model was mid-range, well-padded, but with more stainless steel rails, gears, and clamps than the accepted norm.  It held Robyn in what she had to admit was relative comfort.  She was on a slight incline, from hips to shoulders; head cradled by a soft pillow; arms at her sides; knees bent; legs raised and spread... yes, she was comfortable, but totally helpless.

Her wrists were trapped in wide, padded cuffs, as were her ankles and upper arms.  Padded straps pinned her in place, across her shins, knees, thighs, waist, and above and below her breasts.  They weren't especially tight, except for the wrist cuffs, but they were tight enough.  She squirmed and strained against the straps again, then relaxed.

"Damn!" she cursed under her breath, then pursed her lips and blew an errant, copper-red curl from her face.  "It isn't fair!"  Of course, "fair" was something that rarely applied to her life as Junior Dominatrix in Training at Chattel Mountain Lodge.  Robyn Tolliver's wants and wishes were at least of tertiary concern, even lower in priority, if clients were visiting.

Robyn sighed and tugged on her cuffs in frustration... then her lips curled in a wry smile.  Of course, her position was hardly without rewards.  Frieda and Joelle might take advantage of her on a depressingly regular basis, but they were generous with their attention... usually.

Suddenly, she heard a key rattling in the door (another of the sanitarium levels' ubiquitious steel portals) and the bolt being thrown.  Robyn blew the hair from her face, again, licked her lips, and prepared to give Frieda or Joelle, whichever mistress appeared, a piece of her mind.  The door opened—and Robyn stared in open-mouthed surprise.
Tess Ambrose strode into the room, pushing a stainless steel cart.  She was wearing—a nurse's uniform!

A shiver of dread rippled up Robyn's spine.  She tugged on her bonds as Tess paused to close and lock the door behind her.  The white-clad newcomer then smiled sweetly and pushed the cart forward.  Her uniform was identical to those in Robyn's closet, right down to the ankle straps and locks on the high-heels, white pantyhose, the short, tight, zip-front dress, and nurse's cap.  In fact, it probably was one of Robyn's own, an impression confirmed when she read the "NURSE GOODBODY" tag pinned above the right breast.  The dress fit Tess quite well, although it was a little tight across the chest region.  She might be a former model, but even Robyn had to admit Tess was better endowed in the boob department.

Robyn tossed her head, again, to clear the hair from her face, and affected her most put-upon pout.  "What's the meaning of—m'mmf!"

Tess' latex gloved hand was pressed tightly over Robyn's lips, pinning her head to the pillow.  "Hush, Sweet Cakes," the "nurse" ordered, a disturbingly evil, gloating smile on her otherwise angelic face.  "The worm has turned, 'Nurse Goodbody'."  She jerked the cover cloth from the cart with her free hand.

"M'mm-rrr!"  Robyn's horrified eyes beheld what the Chattel Mountain Staff referred to as a "gag tray": cotton and sponge pads of various sizes, multiple rolls of various kinds of tape, rubber straps and bands, and an array of forceps and dental spreaders.

Tess reached for one of the spreaders, inserted the device in Robyn's mouth, and engaged the ratchet.  Robyn's gurgling, inarticulately protesting mouth was now held at full gape.  Tess then walked to the head of the gynecological frame and lifted the device's head clamp.  It dropped to either side of Robyn's head and snapped in place.  A stainless steel device that closed like a combination vice and pipe-clamp to pin its victim's head in place, it was well-padded and quite efficient at holding its victim's head perfectly still.  Tess gathered Robyn's hair and held it with one hand, and tightened the lateral and forehead clamps with the other.  She then pulled the pillow from under the helpless redhead's head.  Robyn's head and neck were now supported only by the clamp, and completely immobilized.

Robyn watched as Tess selected several circular surgical sponges, each about five inches in diameter, and forced them into a what amounted to a net of cotton cord.  The result was a depressingly large, roughly spherical ball of cotton packing.

"In we go," Tess cooed, and thrust the ball into Robyn's mouth.  It took some persuasion, but she succeeded in forcing the entire mass past Robyn's teeth, trapping her tongue and filling the entire space.  She held the stuffing in place with one hand, released and extracted the dental spreader with the other, then selected a narrow roll of surgical gauze and took several tight turns around Robyn's head and between her teeth, keeping the mass in place.  "There," Tess said.  She tucked the end of the gauze under itself to keep it from unraveling.

Robyn had squirmed and gurgled complaints throughout this process, of course, not that it impeded Tess' efforts in any way.

"I might as well explain the new game," Tess said brightly, locking eyes with her helpless "patient".  She selected a handful of rectangular cotton squares, and, using forceps and fingers, began packing the space between Robyn's teeth and lips.  She made sure Robyn's upper and lower gums and teeth were well padded.  "It was Mistress Frieda's idea, of course.  We're going to pretend that 'Patient 69', that's me, of course, escaped from confinement, the night before one 'doctor' was relieved from her six-month shift by another."  She peeled the backing from an adhesive "butterfly", an hourglass-shaped strip of tape, pinched Robyn's lips together over the packing and gauze cleave-gag, and taped them together with the butterfly.  Four more followed, evenly spaced, then a wide panel of medical tape was pressed home, covering her mouth completely.

"The first thing I did," Tess continued, "was to sneak into the records room and switch the contents of my medical record with 'Nurse Goodbody's' personnel file.  Then I captured you—in a delicious chloroform scene, of course—and stole your uniform and keys.  Since, conveniently, the new 'doctor'—to be played by Mistress Joelle—is completely new... she thinks I'm you... and you're me!  Isn't that clever?"

Robyn tugged on her bonds and forced out a pathetic moan, the best she could manage through all that packing, gauze, and tape.  She had to admit, the new game was quite clever, and, to coin a phrase, UNFAIR!!

Tess selected a roll of white compression gauze, slapped the end over Robyn's mouth, and began wrapping it around and around her head, covering the earlier gag with taut, smooth bands of ever-tighter cotton tape.  Robyn's vocal efforts were reduced to an even quieter nasal hum.

"There are already notations in 'your' record about paranoia, rantings about evil conspiracies, etc., etc.; but Nurse Goodbody will make sure you stay gagged whenever the new doctor makes her rounds."  Several layers of an elastic, latex tape, in a shade of pinkish tan laughingly called "skintone", covered the compression tape.  "And in the meanwhile..."  Tess released the clamps of the cranial frame, folded it back, and placed the pillow back under Robyn's head.  "...we're going to have..."  She worked her way down the gynecological frame, tightening each of the straps, one by one.  "...a lot of fun!"

Robyn shivered in her bonds.  There was a disturbingly maniacal glee in Tess' manner.  She was doing quite a fine job of acting... at least, Robyn hoped she was acting.

Tess reached down and began spinning a steel wheel on the side of the frame.  Robyn's already splayed legs were slowly pulled apart into a full split.  "Nurse Goodbody" then stepped forward and placed her latex-gloved hands on Robyn's crotch.  "We'll start with a nice shave and wax," she said, smiling sweetly, "then move on to other activities."  She began a slow, gentle, teasing massage of Robyn's sex.  "Your chart specifies a regimen of continuous erotic stimulation," she purred, "as well as electrical and tactile therapy."

Robyn writhed in her bonds as Tess' fingers continued their teasing caress.  "Electrical" could mean the violet wand, electrified pads or clips, or electrified dildos and rectal probes; used by hand or under computer control.  "Tactile" could mean nipple clamps, clothespins, steel probes and forceps, pinwheels, various types of vibrators—and even titty and pussy whips!  What worried Robyn most was the distinct possibility that it meant "all of the above"! 

The sanitarium levels had countless cabinets groaning with antique and modern tools and devices, some of whose functions Robyn didn't even suspect; but then, her training as "Junior Dominatrix in Training" was still in an early stage.  She had no reason to believe Tess was any more trained in their use that she, but it was a virtual certainty she had more experience than Robyn as the recipient of such "therapy".  She was also sure the grinning ex-model would be more than willing to experiment.

Tess' ministrations continued, bringing Robyn closer and closer to orgasm.  Eventually, Robyn was on the brink—and then she came.  It wasn't her most memorable orgasm, not even her most memorable of the past few hours, but she did have herself a nice shivering, shuddering climax.

"Oh, there's something Mistress Frieda ordered me to show you," Tess announced, and then she did something very strange.  Still standing at Robyn's splayed crotch, she planted her heels on the lower rungs of the gynecological frame, stepped up, and lifted the hem of her uniform dress.

Robyn's eyes popped wide.  She had assumed Tess was wearing a pair of white pantyhose, like Robyn usually wore when she assumed the role of "Nurse Goodbody".  In fact, Tess was wearing white stockings, frilly white garters—and a stainless steel chastity belt!

The belt  was at once elegant and utilitarian.  The waist band was tight enough to dimple Tess' flesh.  The crotch panel was somewhat looser, but wide and sculpted, designed to cover and closely follow the contours of its wearer's sex.  Under Tess' navel, a small padlock was snapped in a flush-mounted hasp, custom designed to shield the padlock and prevent it from dangling or even rattling.  Additional steel bands encircled her upper thighs, and were as tight as the waist band.  The thigh and waist bands were linked by ribbons of chain mail, and about four inches of chain linked the thigh bands together.

Tess fingered the chain between her thighs.  "See this?" she asked, and Robyn nodded.  "It prevents me from spreading my legs, so I can't work my fingers, or anything else, under the edge of the crotch shield.  Clever, isn't it?"  Robyn nodded again.  Tess' lips curled in a rueful pout.  "Mistress Frieda explained how you were under a no-nookie order while you were entertaining me," she said, "so you'd be more of a bitch?"  Robyn stared at the belt in horror.  "Well, I guess she doesn't trust me to keep my hands on you, and off myself... hence the hardware."

Tess dropped her dress and smoothed its front, then stepped down to the floor.  Still smiling, she walked around the frame and cupped Robyn's breasts.  She squeezed until the pale, lightly freckled globes bulged around her latex-clad fingers.  "So, poor Tess doesn't get her fun until after 'Patient 69' is tucked into bed for the night... assuming Mistress Joelle or Mistress Frieda aren't busy playing with Mistress Ninja."  She released her grip and the pale hand prints on Robyn's breasts flushed pink as the blood returned.

"So... what shall we try first?" Tess asked.  The question was rhetorical, of course.  She snapped her fingers.  "I know!  There's this lever arm on a rolling frame in a room on this level.  A wire basket dangles from one end, and there are counterweights on the other.  The basket is positioned over the patient's head, clover clamps on thin cables are attached to the nipples..."  Her smile became truly evil as she gazed down into Robyn's green eyes.  "...and then a large block of ice is placed in the basket.  Its weight counteracts the pull of the nipple clamps, but as it melts, dripping ice water on your pretty, freckled face, the tug of the counterweights grows ever stronger... drip after cold, stinging drip...  And all the while, I'll be busy, in a comfortable chair positioned between your legs, giving you as many orgasms as possible before dinnertime."  She leaned close and kissed the tip of Robyn's nose.  "It's horrible.  I know.  I've been there."

Tess walked towards the door.  "I'll go get the basket and frame."  She unlocked the door, then paused in the doorway.  "This was a good idea, the change in the game, I mean.  I was skeptical at first, since I usually make these trips out to the Lodge to be on the receiving end of things, but getting a chance to pay you back for all the terrible stuff you've done to me the last few days, playing with shiny new toys, playing with you... it's a whole new experience.  Yes, this was a good idea.  I'll be right back."

The door closed and locked.  Robyn let her head flop back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.  Unfair, she thought, sighing through her gag.  So unfair!

Chapter 6 _ Send feedback to the author