by Van © 2006
ATTACK OF THE FOREST NINJA
Chapter 3: The noose tightens.
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.
||OUR STORY CONTINUES||
Robyn led her "patient" down the corridor to a steel door with a sign that read "TREATMENT ROOM #7". Her wrists cuffed to the back of her collar, ankles hobbled, and mouth filled with her custom-fitted gag with its harness of natural rubber straps, Tess Ambrose minced along on her toes, obedient to Robyn's orders. The smoldering resentment in her eyes remained. She might follow her captor's instructions to avoid punishment, but by all outward signs, her spirit was far from broken.
They paused while Robyn reached into the pocket of her crisp, white, nurse's uniform, and pulled out her keys. She smiled at Tess (who glared in return), and unlocked the door.
The space beyond was large and dark. Robyn thumbed a set of switches, and pin-spots in the ceiling flared to life, one-by-one. They were all focused on a peculiar piece of... furniture... in the middle of the room. At least, Tess decided, it was probably furniture. It was stainless steel and dark plastic, and had a sparse, industrial look. Its many gears, steel arms and brackets, and screw shafts strongly hinted at adjustability. Design-wise, it suggested Art Deco, but there was no real ornamentation. Truth be told, Tess couldn't tell exactly what the thing was. Couch? Sofa? The sculpted and padded plastic sections dispersed among the machine elements suggested some sort of body supporting function, but it was difficult to imagine exactly how one was supposed to sit or recline on the thing.
Robyn closed the door and started forward. Tess' leash snapped taut, and she had no choice but to follow. They came to the side of the thing, and without warning, Robyn grabbed her charge, spun her around, and half-lifted, half-shoved her onto the device.
Tess grunted through her gag as she came to rest, sprawled on her stomach on a surprisingly comfortable set of plastic pads and panels. Voicing a few well-muffled complaints, she twisted and wiggled and found the optimal position. Her collared throat was resting in a padded, semicircular opening, and her upper body was supported by a form-following plastic trough with two holes for her breasts. More padded plastic supported her belly and hips, and padded cups supported her knees.
Secure in the knowledge she couldn't fall, the prisoner continued squirming and mewling gagged expletives. Robyn snapped a clip around her hobble strap to control her legs, then lowered and locked the padded top section of what was now clearly a pillory. It tightly confined Tess' neck and trapped her head. Careful adjustments to an articulated frame locked a padded cup under her chin and immobilized her head completely.
Tess could hear "Nurse Goodybody's" tuneless, highly irritating humming as she moved behind the pillory, out of her now limited field of vision. As Robyn made adjustments, she could feel the vibrations transmitted through the frame of the device holding her captive.
Tess' leather hobbling cuffs were removed, one at a time, and immediately replaced as what felt like broad, thick, well-padded metal cuffs snapped shut around her ankles. There was a click, followed by the grinding of several gears, and her legs were pulled apart, further and further, until they were widely splayed. A second click sounded, and the mechanism locked.
Her wrists were next. The right cuff was detached from the back of her collar, her shoulder rotated as her hand was stretched straight down, and the cuff was secured to a ring. Her left cuff followed, then, as per the orders of her "nurse", she gripped a pair of padded bars. Then, what amounted to thickly padded steel casts snapped shut over her fingers, hands, wrists and forearms, encasing them all the way up to the elbows.
More adjustments to the frame followed, then Robyn took a slow, gloating walk around her "patient".
Tess was on her stomach, her head immobilized, her shoulders, torso, and hips comfortably supported by padded bars and panels, with her arms were stretched down and encased in steel. Her legs were widely splayed, almost to the point of enforcing a full split. It was as if she was stretched over a barrel, or a box, or a whipping horse. Her naked back, buttocks, thighs, calves, and feet were totally vulnerable.
"There," Robyn said, resting one latex-gloved hand on the small of Tess back. "You can barely wiggle, can you?" she remarked, lightly stroking the bony knobs of Tess' lower vertebra with her index finger. "Such pretty skin," she purred, "all smooth and soft... no tan lines. Such pretty curves. Long, firm muscles... narrow waist... strong hips... So pretty." She rested her palm on Tess' left butt cheek, then gave it a teasing smack. "Like two ripe melons. Long, strong legs... I can see why you were in such demand as a model."
Robyn took a step back, and Tess felt the fingers of her captor's hand dance across the sole of her right foot. She squealed through her gag, flexed the foot, wiggled her toes, and fought the cuff holding it captive. The immovable steel frame didn't even shake.
"Oh my, this won't do," Robyn scolded. "Look how dirty!"
Tess fought her restraints with all her strength, knowing what was coming. Robyn was out of sight, but she could hear her moving around. There was the sound of cabinets opening and closing, water splashed into a bowl, then the tap-tap-tap of Robyn's white heels as she returned.
There was a pause... Tess heard water sloshing and dripping... Then something very cold and wet caressed her right foot. She squealed and struggled, but it was pointless. Whatever it was, probably a washcloth, it was briskly rubbed over her heel, sole, and toes. There was a pause, then the stiff bristles of a brush scrubbed the wet foot. Another pause, punctuated by the sound of sloshing and splashing... then the cloth returned for another round of scrubbing. Even the spaces between her wiggling toes were explored, as was the sensitive skin of the instep.
"There, nice and clean," Robyn purred, then leaned close and blew across the damp, glistening, foot. She then walked completely around the frame and her helpless victim, to the other foot.
Tess knew Robyn was taking the long route, to give her time to stew, time to think about the frigid cleansing to come. Bitch!
"One more to go!" Robyn announced (unnecessarily), and the procedure was repeated on Tess' left foot.
Tess whined through her gag, and shivered, despite the bright pinspots shining on her body. Heartless bitch! Finally, the ordeal was over. She heard Robyn step to the side, the sound of the bowl being emptied and rinsed in a sink, then the tap-tap-tap of her tormentor's return.
"Now, what am I forgetting?" Robyn mused aloud, then snapped her latex-covered fingers. "Oh, I remember!" She knelt beside the frame, even with Tess' shoulders.
Tess could still see nothing of what Robyn was doing... but then latex-clad fingers captured and stretched her left nipple! Cold, tiny metal pads clamped the sensitive nubbin and squeezed! Her right nipple was captured as well, then there was a clicking sound, and her nipples and breasts were stretched even further. More clicking, and the openings around the base of her breasts began to tighten! There were repeated adjustments, first to the clamps and chains or rods stretching her nipples, then to the hoops squeezing her breasts.
"That's just to discourage you from moving," Robyn explained as she stood erect.
Tess growled through her gag. The clamps and hoops were more humiliating than painful, and they were totally unnecessary. The way she was stretched across this couch, bed, or whatever the hell it was, made anything more than shivering and shuddering impossible to begin with. Total prize bitch!
Tess could hear Robyn moving around, again, then a squeaking, squealing noise as a cart was pushed into her line of sight. It was stainless steel, the size of a large serving cart, and covered with a hospital-green cloth. It stopped about three feet in front of Tess' gagged, immobilized, and glaring face. Robyn's latex-gloved hand grabbed the edge of the cloth... she paused... and removed it with a clean jerk. Tess' blood ran cold.
Underneath was a second green cloth on which several items were arrayed, including:
- A flogger, with a dozen of so ribbon-thin, leather tails, each about a foot in length.
- A long, narrow, leather paddle, like an elongated ping-pong paddle or a very broad ruler.
- A riding crop.
- A glass jar full of long, sharp, steel pins.
- Another, larger jar, full of tiny steel clips with serrated jaws.
- Several red candles and a butane lighter.
- A Wartenberg pinwheel, a spur with needle-sharp teeth, spinning on a handle.
- A second pinwheel, this one with longer, nastier needles.
- A jar with an applicator brush built into the cap, containing a thick, amber fluid.
- A row of speculums, small to large, with ratchets to allow them to be locked in any position.
- A row of forceps, some with broad, rubber-padded tips, and some with narrow, serrated tips.
- A row of probes, ranging from blunt to needle-sharp.
- And finally, a row of instruments that resembled tiny steel claws or hands, on handles.
Tess flinched in her bonds. While she was preoccupied with the display, Robyn had stepped to the rear of her padded prison and had cupped her sex. Her tormentor's latex-clad palm slid up and down, massaging the flushed, glistening folds of her labia.
"There's a steel frame with various clamps and clips to hold your sex open," Robyn announced, "but 'Doctor Payne' likes to apply it herself." Her massage continued, and Tess moaned through her gag. "She knows, better than I, where all your most sensitive spots are," Robyn continued, "so she can stretch you open with a minimum of pain, leaving the most responsive areas available for other purposes."
Tess squirmed as Robyn's slow, gentle massage continued.
"Hmm... You're very wet, of course," Robyn purred, "but I'm afraid additional 'tension relief therapy' would be counter productive."
Robyn's hand disappeared, and Tess heard the sound of her gloves being removed. Then her shoes tapped away.
"I'm afraid the doctor is delayed," Robyn said, "so you'll have a substantial wait for the next phase of your treatment."
Tess heard keys rattling.
"Try to think pleasant thoughts," Robyn suggested, her voice dripping with sympathy, "and not about all the things 'doctor' might do to you with the things on that cart."
The door closed, the lock rattled, and Tess was alone. Her eyes focused on the jar of amber liquid. Whatever it was, she very much doubted it was honey. She squirmed, wincing as the clips pinched her nipples. Her sex was still tingling from Robyn's teasing touch. Several seconds more, and she might have been able to cum. The frustration was a cruel and unnecessary afterthought to the total helplessness and vulnerability the 'nurse' had already imposed on Tess' person.
Tales of CHATTEL MOUNTAIN LODGE
ATTACK OF THE FOREST NINJA—3
It had taken the Ninja a surprisingly short time to complete Joelle's bondage. The nude, dark-skinned beauty had bound her own legs (from toes to waist, including her insteps), had overlaid the tight diamond lattice of the Kikkou pattern, then had pinned her arms to her sides with several tight loops of rope, as ordered. The Ninja then holstered her dart pistol, selected several additional coils of rope, and completed the job.
Joelle's arms were now folded behind her back and bound, forearm-to-forearm, in an inescapable box-tie. Bands of rope pinned her upper arms to her sides and locked her elbows. Lateral bands crossed her shoulders and met between her breasts in an elaborate running hitch. The Kikkou harness was continued to her throat, and Joelle was now not only totally helpless, but an artistic, esthetic, and erotic treasure.
Her self-imposed gag, pantie-thongs wrapped in a silk scarf and lip-covering tape, had been reinforced by several horizontal bands of the same tape wrapped completely around her head and under her tousled hair. She lay on her side and stared up at her camouflaged captor. Her expression was less one of anger than irritated frustration.
Hands on hips, the Ninja smiled down at her prisoner, her brown eyes shining through the slit in the mask of her hood. "Maybe later I'll have a chance to try something really complicated; but for now, this will have to do. I need to stash you away someplace safe and secure, then fetch Blue-Eyes. I left her dangling in a tree someplace. I do hope I can remember which one. And I have to deal with your new friend, the redhead, as well."
The cat-suited amazon lifted Joelle into her arms, then shifted her onto her left shoulder, carrying the captive with her bound feet dangling in front and her gagged head to the rear.
Joelle neither struggled nor complained through her gag. She didn't want to give the Ninja the satisfaction.
They exited Joelle's bedroom—pausing to ease the door closed—then headed for a back staircase. Obviously, the Ninja knew her way around the Lodge, including the sanitarium levels below. They descended three stories, took a dark, cobweb-shrouded corridor to another staircase, then descended two more. They negotiated a maze of corridors, then Joelle was lowered to her bound feet and propped against a concrete wall while the Ninja unlocked, unbolted, and opened a massive steel door.
"You know where you are, don't you?" the Ninja asked, locking eyes with her prisoner. Joelle nodded. The Ninja reached out and caressed Joelle's right breast, tracing the margin of the tight rope bands framing the firm brown globe. "It'll only be for a little while; no more than a few hours," she promised, then gave the breast a gentle squeeze.
Joelle sighed as she was picked up and carried into the room beyond. The Ninja was carrying her like a bride across the threshold, and she could see what was waiting within.
It was a steel sarcophagus. Standing upright and open, its walls were thick as battleship armor. The exterior was only vaguely human in outline, but the interior space was precisely sculpted to contain a female form, with little room to spare. It split down the middle, and the two halves fit together with a combination of sockets and matching pegs cast in the thick edges.
The Ninja lowered Joelle to her feet and onto the tiny pad on the floor between the open halves of the encasement. "I'm not going to have to bind you in place, am I?" she asked, and Joelle shook her head. There was a row of lashing points alternating with the hinges on the inside back of the sarcophagus. They could be used to hold the soon-to-be occupant while the halves were closed, but using them to restrain a struggling prisoner would cause delay. "Thanks," the Ninja said. "I am on a schedule."
Joelle stood between the two halves and waited with outward calm. Her heart was hammering, but she maintained a stoic front.
The Ninja put her hands on the two halves and pulled. There was a pause, then the massive steel forms began to swing together on their well-balanced hinges. The gap became narrower and narrower... then the pegs and sockets began to mate... and the sarcophagus closed with a solid thud. The seam between the halves was thin as a human hair.
The Ninja swung a massive, horizontal, steel hinge across the front. It was two feet wide, at least six inches thick, and was shaped to follow every curve of the underlying section of the sarcophagus like a rigid belt. She slid its terminal flange into a complex locking mechanism on the left side, and turned a key several full, clockwise turns. With a series of ratcheting clicks, the band snapped tight and locked. She withdrew and pocketed the key, then took a step back.
There was a deep, narrow slit in the sarcophagus, at eye level. The Ninja knew it was razor-thin on the inside, pencil-thin on the outside, and formed a serviceable, albeit severely limited, window. Joelle could see her, and would be able to watch her grand exit.
The Ninja walked a slow circuit around the sarcophagus, studying every detail of the massive encasement. She finally returned to the front, her masked face once again in Joelle's sight. Several more seconds passed... then she bowed, spun on her heel, walked gracefully to the chamber door, and pulled it closed behind her.
Encased in thick steel, Joelle barely had room to wiggle. The air inside her claustrophobic prison was already getting close, but she knew the dozens of tiny holes spaced between the hinges would provide adequate ventilation. She stared through the eye slit at the closed, locked door across the room... there being nothing else at which to stare... and settled in to await her captor's return. Rescue was such a remote possibility it didn't even merit consideration.
Tales of CHATTEL MOUNTAIN LODGE
ATTACK OF THE FOREST NINJA—3
Robyn sipped her tea and stared out the kitchen window. Frieda still hadn't returned from her run, and it was now nearly noon! Nearly as mysterious, now there was no sign of Joelle, no sign she'd prepared an early lunch, for herself or anyone else, and no sign of her in her studio. Robyn had checked. Joelle's canvases and paints were undisturbed. Robyn drummed her fingers. Frieda was jogging along a trail someplace—assuming she hadn't been eaten by a puma or fallen off a cliff—and now Joelle was making herself scarce.
The drumming continued. What to do... Joelle was probably just puttering around someplace, down in the stables, or in one of the outbuildings, or maybe even down by the lake. She'd show up, and make Robyn feel like a fool for worrying.
But Frieda... This wasn't like her. Was it a test? To see what Robyn would do on her own? Robyn emptied her teacup, and sighed. Her options were limited. She'd have to call Frieda on her sat phone.
Okay, so she'd get mad, she'd bitch and moan and complain about the aerobic buzz of her run getting disturbed; maybe even lay on a little extra torture and torment for her "Nervous Nellie" Junior Dominatrix in Training—but Robyn was worried, dammit! If Frieda couldn't understand that...
Robyn sighed again, rinsed her cup in the sink, and headed for the kitchen phone. Frieda's sat phone number was on speed dial, so she tapped the appropriate key and waited. The connection was made, and she could hear Frieda's phone ringing... but she was taking forever to answer... and something was strange about the tone. Robyn covered the handset's speaker— chirrrp-chirrrp-chirrrp —and she could still hear the ring!
It was coming from outside the kitchen door. "Back at last," Robyn growled, and hung up the phone. "Did you run all the way around the damn mountain?" she shouted as she headed for the door. She opened it, and... there was no one there.
Robyn looked down. Frieda's sat phone was on the carpet at her feet. They all used the same model, but Robyn could tell it was Frieda's by the black nylon strap. (Joelle's phone had a blue strap and Robyn's had a green strap with Celtic knot embroidery.)
Robyn stepped into the hallway and looked to the right and left. The corridor was empty. "Frieda?"
"Frieda!" she repeated, shouting this time.
Still no response.
"This is weird," Robyn muttered under her breath as she stooped to pick up the phone.
Suddenly, something heavy dropped from the ceiling and landed behind her, but before Robyn could turn, she was seized from behind! An arm locked her elbows together behind her back, and a hand pressed a large cloth soaked in some noxious chemical over her mouth and nose!
Robyn kicked and struggled, but her captor was strong—and her lungs were burning—not to mention her eyes!
Her head was spinning and her knees were weak. Her attacker was a female—or at least it felt like a pair of firm breasts were pressed against her pinioned arms.
Her vision was going, and there was a buzzing in her ears... or was the sat phone ringing again? The groping fingers of her right hand brushed against a nylon strap. Her attacker was wearing a harness... possibly. Her hand was too weak to try for a grip.
The ringing was getting louder. Who would call at a time like this? Robyn wondered... and collapsed in her captor's arms.
The Ninja eased Robyn's limp form to the carpet, then tossed the narcotic-saturated cloth away. She rolled Robyn onto her back, combed her hair from her face with her gloved hand, and plastered a translucent strip of tape over her mouth. She pressed and smoothed the milky panel down, making sure the adhesive had a firm grip on the redhead's lips and face. Next, she rolled Robyn over, gathered her hands behind her back, and tightened a pair of plasti-cuffs around her wrists.
She dragged the captive further into the hallway, until her white heels cleared the kitchen threshold. She then pulled Robyn's keys from her pocket, picked up the sat phone, retrieved her cloth, and locked the deadbolt in the kitchen door.
The Ninja looked down at her latest victim. The redhead's ultimate capture had never been an issue, but being able to react and adapt was a different skill from tactical planning, and the Ninja was proud of her improvisation. The unexpected call on Frieda's phone—her instant, almost instinctive ambush—that was the reward of hard training, to be able to act on-the-fly with success!
So... Robyn-with-a-'Y'... Frieda's new assistant, she mused. Quite the looker. A little boyish in the figure, but that face, red curls, freckles, green eyes... She's a keeper.
Robyn's nurse's hat had come half-unpinned during the struggle. The Ninja knelt, pulled the remaining hair pins free and let the hat fall to the carpet. She straightened Robyn's copper-red locks and pocketed all the pins. She then reached down and opened the buttons of the prisoner's uniform, down to her waist, then tugged the dress off her right shoulder.
The Ninja's gloved hand slid under the crumpled white fabric of the dress, cupped Robyn's bra-covered right breast, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She considered binding the helpless "nurse" further, making her truly helpless; but instead, she rose fluidly to her feet. "We'll play later," she told the sleeping captive in a husky whisper, "after your nap." She then turned and sprinted silently away, into the interior of the Lodge.
Robyn remained behind, of course; bound, gagged, and unconscious; sprawled on her side on the hallway carpet, in her now rumpled and gaping uniform.
Tales of CHATTEL MOUNTAIN LODGE
ATTACK OF THE FOREST NINJA—Chapter 3