preproduction A TALE OF SEDUCTION, COERCION, & ART by Van © 2003

Chapter 8

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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Our story continues

The ropes remained tight, despite Bess' enthusiastic struggles.  They didn't even slide or shift.  Apparently Jennifer's little sister knew a thing or two about tying people up.  Hardly surprising, Bess mused.   Everyone in this part of California seems to be into kidnapping people (...myself in particular).  The pill-shaped vibrator Jane had tucked in Bess' sex was doing its job, buzzing away, sending waves of shuddering energy through her loins.  Unable to simply relax in her tight bonds, she tugged on the ropes linking her ankles to her wrists and keeping her legs' tightly tucked to the side; twisted her bound knees, causing her increasingly sweaty thighs to slip and slide against one another; squirmed against the ropes pressing her spine against the wooden support column, causing the tight rope bands to slide against her silk-clothed waist and breasts; and tossed her head, moaning through the cloying silk stuffed in her mouth and cleaving her lips.  She blinked sweat from her eyes and gazed through strands of tousled hair at the sketchpad Jane had dropped to the side.

Her position was identical to the damsel in Jennifer's sketch.  Given, Bess' hair was black and wavy and a tangled mess half obscuring her gagged face, and the damsel in the sketch had a short, straight bob (like the author of Bess' bondage, Jane...) but the resemblance was close enough and their costumes (frilly, girlie sundresses and sandals) were identical.   Bess gazed at the sketch, imagining herself in the fictional peril depicted: captured by faeries, lashed to a tree, and being transformed into one of the naked little winged creatures by insidious (erotic) magic!  The vibrator (surrogate for the faeries' spell) continued buzzing away, and Bess felt her juices soaking the crotch of her panties.  I won't, she thought, reveling in the fantasy, squirming in her inescapable, unforgiving bonds.  They can't make me!  I won't become one of them!  She focused on the faeries in the sketch, little more than blobs of yellow and a few lines to suggest bodies and wings... and as if by real magic, the figures began to transform!  One took on Maggie's visage; another was Jennifer; yet another was Jane!  Bess fought her ropes and moaned through her gag.   You can't make me!

'But we can!' the faeries seemed to answer, their giggling laughter filling the clearing as Bess squirmed against the living vines lashing her to the young oak.  'You will dance the Faerie Circle under the full moon.  You will come with us to the Faerie Queen's realm!  You will come... come... cum!'

It was inevitable.  Bess shuddered in her bonds and came... and came... and it was glorious!  Finally... she moaned through her gag and opened her eyes...

...and focused on Jennifer, who at some point had returned from her run, unnoticed.  Still dressed in running clothes (now sweat stained) she was staring at Bess in wonder and awe, an expensive digital camera in her hands. "That was fabulous!" the awestruck brunette muttered, and took a picture.  "Simply fabulous.  Exactly what I need."  She took a step back and snapped off another frame.

Bess tossed her head, trying to clear the tangle of hair from her face and mewed through her gag.

"Yes!" Jennifer whispered and snapped a picture.

Bess' eyes were wet, and she sobbed.  She stared at Jennifer, gave her bonds a pathetic tug, and tears began running down her face.

"Pitiful!" Jennifer said, clicking the camera.  "You poor thing!  The ropes are tight and punishing and..."  Her voice trailed off and she blinked, as if awaking from a trance.  "Oh!" she gasped, set down her camera, and rushed forward.  She fumbled with the knot of Bess' gag and helped her expel the scarf stuffed in her mouth.  "I'm sorry," Jennifer said sheepishly, her own eyes wet as she began untying Bess' rope bonds.  "It's just that you were so perfect, exactly what I envisioned while making the sketch."

"That's okay," Bess gasped, "just turn it off!"

Jennifer paused in her efforts to pick apart a particularly complex and troublesome knot.  "Turn what off?"

"V-vibrator," Bess whispered, shuddering in her helplessness.

"Vibrator?" Jennifer asked.  "Where...?  Oh!  Excuse me."  She fumbled with Bess' panties, reached between her thighs, and produced the still merrily buzzing over-sized pill.  She followed its cord to the battery pack, turned it off, and set it aside.  "This is all Jane's work, isn't it?"  Bess nodded.  Jennifer sighed and continued untying the now languid prisoner.

Eventually Bess was free and Jennifer helped her to her feet.  Bess straightened her hair as best she could, straightened her borrowed dress, then stood, rubbing her wrists.

Jennifer watched her anxiously.  "I... I'm sorry.  I should have untied you immediately.  I..."

Bess smiled. "Come here, Silly," she purred, and pulled her rescuer into a gentle embrace.  

"When I get my hands on Janey..." Jennifer muttered.

"No you don't!" Bess said with a laugh.  "She's mine."  She snuggled against Jennifer, running her hands up and down her strong, smooth back.  "I'm not mad," she purred.  "She got a little carried away, but it was all jealousy.  I take it she has a thing for Maggie?"

Now Jennifer laughed, still hugging Bess.  "A bonfire-size torch, actually.  She's not a bad kid... just young."

Bess pushed back and smiled at Jennifer, maintaining her embrace.  "Since she's your sister, I'll let you decide her fate.  Maggie's not the only resident around here who likes to play games, am I right?"

Jennifer smiled, coyly.  "I'm sure some opportunity for unspeakably cruel revenge will present itself."

preproduction

Chapter 8

Freshly showered and changed into jeans and tank-top, Jane sauntered into Maggie's bedroom.  She had a cheerful (and suitably gloating) greeting prepared, but instead simply smiled and drank in the image of her helpless, tape-gagged, blanket-covered lover, her head resting on a pillow... fast asleep.

Aw... ain't that sweet, Jane mused, tiptoed to the bed and eased back the blanket, exposing her lover's naked, hog-tied, Shibari-roped body.  Maggie's head stirred slightly and she wriggled in her bonds, but her eyes remained closed.  Jane reached into her back pocket and produced a pair of compact pruning shears.  She began methodically snipping Maggie's bonds, first freeing her from the ropes lashing her to the bed, then the diamond-hitched bands pinning her arms.

Suddenly, a quiet ringing noise sounded.  Jane set the shears down on the mattress and lunged for a keypad on the bedside table.  She stabbed a flashing button, then turned to look at Maggie.  The still elaborately bound redhead stirred in her slumber, but that was all.

Jane pattered out of the bedroom and to the nearest computer, tapped the screen to life, opened the security system window, and selected the camera at the main gate.  A stranger was on the screen, an attractive blonde with her hair in a ponytail and a UPS cap on her head.  Over her shoulder Jane could see a UPS van.  Jane tapped a key.  "Hello?"

"Delivery for Margaret Kilborn," the blonde answered, her voice hollow and tinny over the computer's speaker.

"Okay, come on up."  Jane pressed one of the function keys and the message "GATE OPENING" appeared in the corner of the screen.  She hurried to the kitchen, out the door, and watched as the van rolled into the outer courtyard.

The delivery was three large boxes, all from "Broadside Productions."  Jane helped the blonde stack the boxes on the kitchen floor.

"You sure you don't want some coffee?" Jane offered as she signed the blonde's electronic clipboard.

"Thanks." the UPS 'Brownie' answered, "but I'm as caffeinated as I need to get today.  Bye."

"Bye!" Jane watched the blonde climb back into her van and drive away.  She waved, continued watching... then hit the button that closed the gate as the van faded into the distance down the hill.  She then reentered the kitchen and stared at the boxes.   I wonder what— "M'mmpfh!"  Jane had been seized from behind and a strong hand was clamped over her mouth!

Her captor was Maggie, naked, her pale, freckled body criss-crossed with fresh rope marks.  One arm crooked through the struggling brunette's elbows, the other silencing her young captive's whimpering screams, the gloating redhead leaned close and whispered in Jane's ear.  "Shh... quiet Punkie, quiet.  Are you familiar with the expression 'payback's a bitch?'  Well, I'm that bitch."

preproduction

Chapter 8

By the time Bess showered and made her selections from the clothing Jennifer had arranged for her to choose from, an early lunch was ready.  She sauntered into the kitchen to find Jennifer cutting a long hoagie sandwich into a dozen narrow slices.

The tall brunette smiled at Bess.  "Very Audrey Hepburn," she purred.

Bess struck a graceful pose.  She had selected a pair of Jennifer's black running tights, and being a size too large they were just a tad loose, suggesting toreador pants rather than tights.  She was also wearing a sleeveless white cotton blouse, and her hair was pinned back in a tight ponytail.  "Don't be silly, dah-ling!  I don't have her big doe eyes..."  Bess blinked coyly.  "...or her pretty mouth."  She sent a pouting air-kiss Jennifer's way.

Jennifer laughed.  "Don't sell yourself short, Funny Face."  She slid the plate of finger sandwiches towards Bess, then her smile faded.  "I... I want to apologize again for—"

"Will you stop!" Bess interrupted.  "How many times do I have to forgive you?  It's your sister who's on my shit-list."

"I still feel terrible," Jennifer muttered.

Bess chewed a bite of sandwich, swallowed, and her smile turned... feral.  "Hmm...  Well... If you're looking for a way to do penance..."

Jennifer noted Bess' expression, and her own lips curled in a half-smile.  "What do you have in mind?" she asked, chewing a sandwich.

"I think it's time for someone else in this part of the state to be a helpless prisoner," Bess purred, eyeing Jennifer's jeans and tank-top clad form with obvious carnal interest, "someone besides me."

"I've already agreed to help you get even with Janey," Jennifer said.

Bess noted the hint of nervousness in Jennifer's manner, and her smile broadened.  "This is good," she mumbled, nodding at the slice of sandwich in her hands.

"Thanks," Jennifer said and reached for another.

"You've had enough," Bess purred.

"What?"

Bess smiled.  "I said... you've had enough.  I like my slaves a little hungry.  It makes them ever so grateful when I feed them tidbits... or when I let them lick the scraps from my plate."

Jennifer's smile never wavered, but she did follow Bess' order and withdraw her hand, without additional lunch.  "You're awfully sure of yourself," she muttered.

Bess took a bite of sandwich before answering.  "Well... you're the one who craves penance.  Be a good pleasure-slave and strip for your mistress."

Jennifer's nervousness was now unmistakable.  She swallowed, grabbed the bottom of her tank top, sighed, and pulled it over her head... then tossed the garment aside and smiled at Bess shyly.

Bess' appreciation of her compliant hostess' breasts and firm, tan skin was obvious, but her manner remained carefully coy.  "The jeans, please," she purred.

Jennifer stood, unzipped her levis and peeled them off, then pulled down her panties without prompting.  She placed her hands atop her head and stood tall, her elbows back and breasts pointing, tall and tan, beautiful and proud.  "What now, mistress?" she asked in a husky whisper.

"Uh..."  Bess was losing her facade of causal dominance.  "I'm not exactly a Girl Scout," she admitted.  "Will you help me with the knots and stuff?"

Jennifer smiled (sending a thrill of lust through her "mistress").  "Perhaps you'd like to start with something involving buckles?" she suggested.

Bess laughed sheepishly and nodded.  "Okay... but not Wonder Woman's strait-jacket.  I want to see all that nice skin... or as much of it as possible."

Jennifer blushed prettily at the compliment.  "There's always the harness that goes with it," she noted.  "It's got other... uh... accessories."

Bess took a slow, careful bite of sandwich, smiling and watching Jennifer watch her.  "'Accessories'..." she mumbled.  "How very intriguing.  I know I can handle buckles.  Scurry off and fetch your harness for mistress, with all its accessories.  There's a good slave."

Her hands still atop her head, naked and beautiful, Jennifer stifled a smile and pattered from the kitchen.

preproduction

Chapter 8

"You can pull that tighter, if you want," Jennifer said in a husky whisper.

"Thank you," Bess purred, and hauled on the strap until the cuffs binding Jennifer's elbows nearly met behind her back.  "There."  She tucked the loose end of the strap under the broad loop sewn on the far side of the buckle, then took a step back.

Jennifer was kneeling in the center of her studio, on the hardwood floor, several feet from the easel or any of the wooden support columns.  She was now captive of the same thick, wide, stiff collar, belt, thigh straps, and elbow and ankle cuffs she had used to bind Bess.  In addition, leather cuffs linked her wrists to her outer thighs, and a long, narrow strap ran from the front of the waist belt, through her sex, between her buttocks, and up to the strap joining her elbows.  Everything was tight and properly fastened, and with very little coaching, Bess had been able to ensure it was all inescapable.

Arranged on the floor were the remaining "accessories" Jennifer had fetched at her mistress' order: an elaborate head harness and gag, and a pair of clover-style nipple clamps joined by a thin silver chain.

"You look so pretty like that," Bess sighed.

Jennifer pulled on her bonds and smiled shyly.  "I'm afraid I don't do the submissive captive very well... at least that's what Maggie tells me."

Bess smiled.  "She's absolutely right.  You're waaaaay to much the amazon to be a Penelope."

"Penelope?" Jennifer asked, then laughed.  "The cartoon damsel in distress?"

"Right," Bess purred and stepped forward.  She cupped Jennifer's breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "So pretty... so strong... so helpless."

"Before we get too far along here, there are some things we need to discuss," Jennifer said (squirming in her bonds as Bess continued her gentle kneading of her prisoner's firm, tan breasts.)

"It's a little late for negotiations," Bess said, "don't you think?"

"That's exactly the point," Jennifer explained, studiously ignoring Bess' continuing massage.  "The topic for today is 'safe words'."

"Safe words?" Bess inquired, smiling happily as she shifted her attention (and her strong, supple fingers) to Jennifer's nipples.

Jennifer shuddered in her bonds and continued.  "Maggie should have discussed this with you before she—would you please stop doing that?  I'm trying to explain something important."

Bess stopped her manipulation of her prisoner's nipples and placed her hands on her hips.  "Well," she said petulantly, "clearly someone has a lot to learn about being a slave girl."

Jennifer smiled.  "And that someone is you, 'Mistress'.  Now pay attention."

"Yes ma'am," Bess answered, still smiling.

"Games like this are about trust," Jennifer lectured.  "A safe word is a way for the Bottom... the prisoner... the helpless one..."  Jennifer bit her lip coyly and squirmed in her bonds, for emphasis; "...to let the Top... the mistress—"

"That would be me," Bess purred, and gave each of Jennifer's nipples a playful flick with her index fingers.

"That would be you," Jennifer agreed.  "Now stop interrupting.  The safe word is the Bottom's signal that she's nearing her limit."

"Limit?"

"Pain, discomfort, hunger, need to go to the Little Slave's Room, her favorite soap's about to start and she forgot to set the VCR...  That sort of thing." Jennifer explained.  "Usually it's all pre-negotiated."

Bess leaned forward, took Jennifer's head in her hands, and gave her a long, deep kiss.  "I'd never cause you pain, darling," she whispered.

Jennifer smiled.  "I know that.  Like I said... games like this are about trust.  I gifted you my with my trust when I let you bind me."

Bess smiled, and kissed Jennifer again.  "The most valuable gift I've ever received."

"You're welcome.  Now... safe words are both a symbol and a tool.  Even if you don't intend to cause me pain, that doesn't mean things can't get carried away in the heat of passion."

Bess kissed Jennifer a third time, then began fiddling with the prisoner's erect nipples again.  "I think I understand.  So... my strong, unconquerable amazon... if... despite being such a strong, unconquerable amazon... you reached your limit of nipple twiddling, what would be your safe word?"

Jennifer shuddered and tried to twist away.  "Uh... I don't have one yet.  Give me one."

"Okay," Bess purred, seizing Jennifer's nipples in an authoritative (but painless) pinch to prevent their escape.  "Hmm... what would be a good safe word for a captured amazon warrior... Hmm...  I got it: 'Gabrielle'. "

"Gabrielle?"

Bess released Jennifer's nipples.  "Imagine Xena, captured and being erotically tortured.  What choice would she have but to call for her perky little sidekick to come and rescue her?"

"So she could pummel the dastardly villain torturing her beloved Xena with her cute little stick?  Works for me.  But what if I'm gagged?"

Bess pouted in concentration.  "Hmm... gagged?"

"I'll hum the Xena theme song," Jennifer suggested.

Bess smiled.  "Perfect!"  She picked up the head harness and set to work.  The tangle of thin straps was complicated, but with Jennifer's cooperation she soon sorted it out.  Eventually the helpless prisoner's head was caged in a network of linked bands encircling her forehead; from the bridge of her nose, across the top of her head, and down to a large steel ring behind her head (which served to anchor her ponytail).  More straps ran across her nose from cheek-to-cheek; and under her chin.  "Any last words before I gag you?" Bess purred.  "Piteous, whimpering begging?"

"I thought you preferred defiant amazons to simpering slaves?"

"Oh, I do," Bess whispered and gave her prisoner a long, deep kiss.

When Bess broke the kiss, Jennifer tossed her head.  "You'll never get away with this," she growled, playing her part in their little drama.  "You may have stripped me naked and bound me in your cruel harness, but I'll fight you forever, you monster!"

Bess shuddered and smiled.  "This is a lot of fun," she muttered.  "I feel like a kid again, playing in the backyard."

"Hey, stay in character!" Jennifer scolded.

"Sorry," Bess apologized, then smiled evilly and thrust the rubber ball of the gag portion of the harness between Jennifer's teeth.  She then stepped behind and threaded the gag's buckle.  She leaned forward and whispered in her captive's right ear.  "A 'monster' would pull the strap tight..."  She gave the strap a firm tug, and Jennifer grunted around the ball filling her mouth.  "...wouldn't she?"

The gag also had a mouth-covering flap.  Bess unbuckled the strap under Jennifer's chin, secured the flap, then rebuckled the chin strap.  She moved to the front and traced the margin of the thin leather rectangle with one finger.  "My goodness, isn't that tight?" she mused.  "I can see the outline of your lips, the ball between your teeth... What a clever, evil design.  Maggie?"

Jennifer nodded (as best she could, encumbered by the body harness' collar and the head harness).

"I thought so," Bess whispered, then reached out and lifted Jennifer's leather-strapped chin.  "I want you to struggle," she said, locking eyes with her helpless lover.  "I want you to struggle until you're covered with sweat...  then I want you to struggle until you're tired...  then I want you to struggle 'til you're exhausted...  then I want you to struggle some more...  And if you do a really good job..."  She let her hand drop to the strap cleaving Jennifer's sex, and slid her index finger slowly up and down the tight leather band.  "...I'll unstrap this 'accessory' and... and we can have a little fun."

Strong, defiant (and totally helpless), Jennifer fought her bonds.  Bess watched her writhe and twist and buck against the tight leather pinning her limbs.  The stiff bands creaked slightly, but easily defeated her most energetic efforts.  After several seconds Bess stooped and picked up the nipple clamps.  She studiously examined the gleaming steel mechanisms, testing the tightness of the clamps' springs, noting the way the scissors arrangement of the mechanisms caused them to tighten when pressure was put on the connecting chain.  The grinning "mistress" gazed at the clips... then her prisoner's hard nipples... then into her prisoner's defiant (and slightly amused) blue eyes.  Bess' smile broadened... and she dropped the clamps in the pocket of her blouse.  "I'm going to make a call, okay?" she asked with a gloating smile, and strolled towards the kitchen.

Jennifer shook her head and struggled against the harness, mewing vaguely negative sounds past her quite effective gag.

"I'll reverse the charges, Silly," Bess laughed as she returned with the handset of Jennifer's kitchen phone.  She found a comfortable overstuffed chair with a good view of her still struggling prisoner, and started stabbing buttons on the phone.  "That's it," she told Jennifer.  "Keep struggling like a good little unconquerable amazon-slave."  She smiled at Jennifer as the call connected.  "Hello, Heather?  Bess Donovan.  Could you put me through to the boss?"  Jennifer executed a particularly enthusiastic test of the harness, mewed through her gag, and glared at Bess.  "Oh, and Heather, can you reverse the charges on this call?  This is a private number... What?  My cell phone doesn't work out here.  Next time remember to give me one of the satellite phones.  Okay, I'll hold, thanks!"

She gave Jennifer a gloating smirk, one hand over the phone's microphone.  "You call that struggling?  Let's see some sweat, slave!"  Jennifer huffed through her gag and glared at her captor, but did increase the tempo of her writhing and twisting.  

Bess took her hand from the microphone.  "Steph?  Or should I say 'Boom-Boom?'...  Well, that is your nick-name, isn't it?..."  Bess laughed, then continued.  "Okay, but we need to talk about working conditions.  Did you really send me out here to be a naked artist's model, or do you want me to do my damn job?...  With all due respect, Boom-Boom, you'd be a little testy too if you'd been stripped and kidnapped and bound and gagged and...  What?  I am calm!"  

Bess put her hand back over the speaker and smiled at Jennifer.  "Did mistress tell you to stop struggling?" she inquired sweetly.  Jennifer glared and resumed her obviously futile efforts to escape.

Bess lifted her hand.  "Okay... okay... but if I call and tell you to get me the hell out of here, I expect to see the Seventh Cavalry roaring up the road before I hang up the phone, got it?..."  Bess laughed.  "Okay, Boom-Boom."  Bess frowned.  "Unpaid invoices?  What vendor?...  I'll check Maggie's records and handle it...  Tomorrow...  Hey, I've been occupied being a captured Star Ranger, remember?  I'll handle it...  Okay, bye!"  

She stabbed a button to disconnect the call, set the handset to the side, and smiled at Jennifer.  The captive brunette was still twisting and tugging on her bonds, panting through flaring nostrils, and her skin was beginning to shine.  "Very nice," Bess purred, "but I want to see a lot more sweat.  If you want me to loosen that naughty crotch strap and play... you've got to earn it.  Struggle, amazon!"

A strand of brown hair had somehow escaped the head harness (actually, Bess had left it free) and was fluttering across the prisoner's gagged face.  She strained against her harness, took a brief, panting breather, then resumed struggling.

Comfortably slumped in her comfortable chair, Bess watched her lover writhe and twist.  "This being an evil villainess is a lot of fun," she whispered under her breath.

preproduction

Chapter 8

Comfortably clothed in jeans and t-shirt, Maggie used a kitchen knife to open the boxes.  As she expected, they were full of preliminary costumes for the Star Fox project.

There were several Star Ranger uniforms in two designs.  For shipboard use there were gray-green unitards with ultramarine and rust-gold accents.  For landing parties there were more rugged unitards with knee and elbow padding and small utility pockets sewn in the thighs and upper arms.  Their fabric was in a "digital camouflage" pattern of a dozen earth tones, dark gray predominating.  There were also boots (calf-hugging models that came to the knee and had a dozen horizontal straps), and "utility belts" with several small pockets and low-slung holsters.  The boots and belts were all dark gray, and the buckles and snaps blued steel.  The holster contained a rather nasty looking (and totally harmless) sidearm.  

Maggie pulled out one of the Ranger weapons and admired its gleaming form.  The designer had done an excellent job.  It was exotic, but clearly not some off-the-shelf automatic pistol with doo-dads attached like you saw in some sci-fi productions.  The "Ranger Blaster" looked and felt like a functioning weapon.  She pulled the trigger and a red dot appeared on the opposite wall.  A laser pointer had been incorporated inside the "barrel."  Clever, she mused, and reholstered the blaster.

There were also several Slavers' Guild uniforms and accessories.  The uniforms consisted of gleaming leather body harnesses; thigh boots; various baubles and bracelets; and flimsy, flashy, silk-like microfiber bandeaus and loincloths in several different colors and patterns.  Maggie imagined the overall effect would be a cross between a swashbuckling pirate and a harem dancer, dangerous and sexy.  Guild weapons were also "blasters," but were broad and stubby, and from the script Maggie knew they supposedly could be set for lethal or non-lethal effect, and thus could be used for attack or capture.  There were also "pain wands" and coiled "nerve whips."   Nasty!  Maggie mused.

The clothing and harnesses were in a range of sizes, from Punkie to Bess to Jennifer, Maggie noted.  How thoughtful of Boom-Boom.  She set down the prop whip, picked up her riding crop, and left the kitchen.  She strolled through the mansion and towards the central courtyard, a rectangular garden enclosed on all sides by window walls.  It was one of Maggie's favorite venues, with a bubbling water feature, cheerful flower beds, several oak saplings arranged in tasteful groves, and several groupings of outdoor furniture.  There were also a dozen or so bird feeders hanging from oak branches... and in the center, a three-foot post was firmly imbedded in the dirt.  Normally the pedestal for a bird-feeding platform, the thick, sturdy timber was being put to another use at the moment.

The feeding platform was detached and removed, and Jane, naked as the day she was born, was bent forward, head down, stomach on a small pillow Maggie had thoughtfully placed atop the post, her wrists and ankles bound to the post's base, the cotton rope of her bonds hitched through convenient iron rings set in the hard, immovable wood.  Jane's feet were en pointe, her toes dancing precariously on an overturned flowerpot tucked against the base of the post.  She was gagged, of course, a bandana stuffed in her mouth and another cleaving her lips and knotted at the nape of her neck.  She raised her head, shook her bangs from her eyes, and mewed at her captor.

Maggie walked a slow circuit of her prisoner, savoring the line of Jane's smooth back, her stretched legs, her delicate wrists twisting in their inescapable bonds, her white teeth and strained lips framing the tight cotton band of her gag, her frightened blue eyes peeking through her tousled mop of gleaming brown locks... her firm, hard, dimpled buttocks... especially her firm, hard, dimpled buttocks...

Jane watched, turning her head as needed, as Maggie paced and paced, slapping her palm with the fluttering tip of her riding crop.

Maggie stopped and smiled.  "The trick will be making the blows just strong enough to color your bottom, but not so strong that they make unsightly bruises or cuts; to overlap the blows for uniform coverage; and to know when to stop."  Jane pulled on her bonds and mewed a piteous complaint.  Maggie's smile broadened and she continued.  "I want it to look like a sunburn... nice and red... rosy and sore... burning and throbbing...  I'm afraid this is going to take quite a while."

Jane sighed and steeled herself for the first blow.   Bitch!

THE	END
preproduction	Chapter 8

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