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It had been an incredible dream—vivid,
disturbing... and hot!
...especially the last part. Things had started out pretty bad—downright horrific,
in fact. She'd gone with Amanda to check out a lucrative modeling
gig, and almost immediately things went wickedly wrong. (Classic success
dream.) She'd been captured (they'd both been captured), she'd
(they'd) been encased in leather and transported...
someplace. Then, she was separated from Amanda and tortured. (All of which was
perversely entertaining, in a pretend Damsel-in-Distress sort
of way, but why the separation? More subconscious anxiety
role-playing?) There was that irritatingly cute and
little blonde (who probably represented unresolved conflict issues with
that Pamela Buccellato cheerleader-bitch and her clique of
cheerleader-bitch girlfriends from
High School). Then the hot part
had kicked in.
Fresh from being tortured (strappado,
with a side of nipple clamps), she'd been taken to a very girly, very feminine, pink-on-pink
bedroom. She'd been staring at a
canopy bed with pink bedspread,
pillows, and curtains (almost offensive enough to send her
into aesthetic shock)—when a blindfold
was pulled over her eyes (leather, and padded with lambswool fleece)
strap buckled behind her head. She was tossed on the bed, and as
soon as she stopped bouncing, a pair of
hands started gliding over her body, giving her an intimate and
incredibly nice massage.
Then another pair of hands
started using scissors to snip and remove the tape mummifying her
fingers and hands.
She remembered that there were some chains
involved. The hands doing the massaging seemed to be
dragging steel hardware as they kneaded and probed Gloria's
sore, tired muscles. The other pair of hands, the pair dealing
with her taped fingers, seemed to be
unencumbered. In any case, the massage continued, and then her
knees and ankles were untied.
The massage reached her private anatomy, and things shifted from
restorative/therapeutic to provocative/erotic. She tried to
resist, but now there were more than hands involved.
She was on her back (and her bound wrists and elbows), and one body
firm, warm body) was pinning her right leg to the bed, and was using a
control her left thigh (preventing her from closing her legs).
Then the other hand (plus a
tongue and two lips) started probing and caressing her sex!
The other body (also firm and warm), the one with the
was using her weight to pin Gloria's upper body. Her
hands were squeezing and teasing her breasts, and her lips and tongue were nuzzling,
kissing, and licking her ears, neck, and face, including her
Both her masseuse/lovers were definitely
female, because there definitely
(not her own) involved in the pinning and
skin-on-skin squirming and sliding.
Smooth, warm skin... Soft hair tickling her body... Subtle,
feminine perfume (and musk)... Strong, skillful hands, and
tongues—especially those wet,
After several minutes, her gag was removed, and the kissing moved into
territory... and became mutual. In fact, after Gloria "endured"
two crashing orgasms, everything oral became
mutual—nipple sucking, the
licking and sucking of various labia and clits—everything. Her wrists and
elbows were still bound, so all she could manage was to
awkwardly stroke, caress,
and/or squeeze any anatomy encountered in passing, but she tried her
Gloria stopped counting her orgasms
at six. There were brief respites (in which her anonymous lovers
seemed to be concentrating on each other, rather than
Gloria), but it was still hours of a more-or-less continuous and
skillfully orchestrated orgy-à-trois.
Early in the festivities, Gloria remembered trying to ask questions (of
who/what/where variety), but her only replies were
shushing noises and fingers pressed against her
lips. She took the hint.
At some point there was champagne (icy cold and very refreshing) and
various forms of finger food (shrimp, chicken nuggets, little sausages,
cheese, olives, various raw veggies, etc.). The meal was
into the lovemaking, with strategic parts of Gloria's anatomy being
anointed with various sauces and serving as dipping bowls.
Cleanup after the meal was also integrated into the fun, with tongues,
and warm, wet washcloths licking and scrubbing Gloria's skin.
And then the lovemaking had started again! What a dream!!
opened her eyes, or rather, she tried to open her eyes. She was
still wearing the blindfold from the dream, the one with the fleece
lining, and a ball-gag was in her mouth, and—
It wasn't a dream!! she
realized. None of this is
Gloria rolled on the bed. (It felt like the bed... the same
bed.) Her wrists were still behind her back,
but now they were locked in manacles— steel manacles—and the manacles
attached to a steel belt around her waist. In addition, her
ankles were shackled, separated by about a foot of chain. She
groped with her fingers, exploring the surface of her restraints, but
encountered only smooth metal. She could feel a seam in one
of her manacle cuffs, but it was hairline thin. All the cuffs,
manacles and shackles, were thick
and wide, and followed the contours of her wrists and ankles in
detail. However, where the two or three links of chain linking
manacles to the
belt were attached, there was no obvious padlock or any sort of locking
mechanism. There was nothing she
even if she had a set of picks and/or a
length of stiff wire... which she didn't.
Gloria flinched in her
bonds. She wasn't alone. She seemed
to be alone on the bed, but there was someone else in the room.
"Mmff?" Gloria "answered".
Gloria squirmed to the edge of the bed that seemed to be closest to the
voice, eased her
feet to the floor, and stood. The carpet underfoot was thick and
soft. Her unknown companion continued giving her gagged
encouragement, and Gloria
slowly, step by cautious step, moved towards the sound. After
several steps, her
companion's mewling abruptly took a warning tone. Gloria
reached forward with her
right foot... and her toes encountered... steel bars? She moved
forward until her legs were pressed against the obstruction. Yes,
definitely vertical steel bars (metal, anyway), about as thick as her
thumb and a
little more than the width of her knee apart. There was a
horizontal bar about at the level of her waist... then nothing. A
"Mrrf!" Fingers brushed against her thighs—fingers belonging to
hands that had been thrust against the bars.
Gloria knelt on the carpet, turned her head, and presented the nape of
her neck. The fingers fumbled with the buckle of her
was released, and the strap rattled free. Gloria expelled the
ball from her mouth while the fingers unbuckled her blindfold.
Ball-gag and blindfold fell to the floor, and Gloria blinked in the
sudden pink light.
Okay, the light wasn't pink, it was white; but almost everything in the
room from which it had to reflect was pink. Her fleeting
impression upon arrival had been correct. She was in a very girly, very pink bedroom, complete with
frilly pink curtains and bed linen, and predominately pink and white
stuffed toy animals. It was... nauseating. She looked down
at her feet, and found her just-removed
blindfold and gag were also pink;
a translucent pink rubber ball for
the gag, pink fake-fur fleece padding for the blindfold, and pink-dyed
leather straps for both.
Gloria shuffled on her knees to face the cage. It was a cage, roughly a meter high
and wide, and a meter-and-a-half deep; and it was occupied by a naked
woman, a very healthy, very
attractive woman, of African
A pink ball-gag, companion to Gloria's former gag, was in
her mouth, and she was...
Gloria's eyes popped wide. "Fiona? Is that you?"
stared in disbelief. It was Fiona Lassiter, assistant to Chessy
Golden, Amanda's greatest professional rival. She'd met
Fiona months earlier, at a club. She'd been going in and Fiona
been coming out, so they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk. Gloria knew
Amanda and Fiona's boss had a lot of history, both having started in
the business as assistants to Amanda's father, Peter Pressfield.
She also knew they'd had a serious falling out at the time of the elder
Pressfield's accidental death. Amanda wouldn't talk about it, but
Gloria knew the two events were closely related. The tragedy was
the result of a new, overly complicated trick gone horribly wrong, and
Amanda blamed Chessy.
"Mr'mrr!" Fiona was kneeling on a thick pad of pink fake-fur
lining the bottom of her cage. Her smooth, chocolate-brown
skin was a dramatic counterpoint to the fluffy pad and the
silver-chrome of her restraints and the bars of her small prison.
The restraints in question were a waist-belt, manacles, and
material, style, and placement to Gloria's own. Fiona's hair was
a riot of raven, shoulder-length curls. Her face was incredibly beautiful, just as
Gloria remembered, despite the gag.
returned Gloria's stare, amusement and mild impatience in her gorgeous brown eyes. "Mr'mrr!!"
Gloria blinked. "Oh—hi—Fiona—sorry. Come
closer." She did a
half-turn and pressed her manacled hands against the bars. Fiona
leaned forward, turned her head, and Gloria dealt with the gag's buckle
with deft professionalism, despite her bound condition and the awkward
Fiona spat out the ball. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Gloria responded.
"So," Fiona continued, in a whisper, "tell me the news. Is the
kidnapping still on the front page? How soon should the cops be
"Uh..." Gloria blinked, again. "I don't think the papers
even know Amanda and I are gone, and as for the cops—"
"Not you!" Fiona
interrupted. "What about Chessy and me?"
"Chessy's been kidnapped too?"
Fiona's eyes filled with tears. "So, it's true," she
muttered. "No one even knows we're missing."
"Don't cry," Gloria said. Her own eyes were welling. "Tell
me what happened."
"It was a month ago," Fiona explained. "We were in our hotel
room, in Vegas, and room
service knocked on the door—only it wasn't room
service. A bunch of women dressed as hotel staff grabbed us,
stripped us naked, and strapped us into these harness-sheath
things. Then, they folded us up like a couple of pretzels and
strapped and clamped us into a couple of
foam-lined trunks that matched our other luggage... and wheeled us
out of the hotel."
Fiona nodded. "And how! Also, they used some sort of spray
paralyzed our vocal cords." She managed a weak
smile. "There was nothing we could do. The trunks had these
tiny built-in periscopes, believe it or not, so we could watch them get away with it."
"Sadistic bitches," Gloria growled.
"No one knows?" Fiona asked.
Gloria sighed. "About two weeks ago I read something in Variety about you guys going on
sabbatical in Europe. I mentioned it to Amanda, and she got all
huffy and... you know."
Fiona sighed. "Yeah, they're still pissed at each other."
Fiona sighed again. "At least. It's hard to keep
track of time. I haven't seen the sun in... I think
it's been a month."
Gloria's stomach turned in a knot. "And now they have both of us."
"All of us," Fiona added, "at
least I think so. I haven't actually seen Chessy since the
Fiona nodded. "So, details. They kidnapped you guys too?"
Gloria blushed. "They didn't have to. Amanda and I were
offered a sponsorship deal, allowed ourselves to get talked into
modeling some leather outfits, and by the time we realized anything was
"It was too late." Fiona smiled, again. "Don't feel
stupid. These people know
what they're doing."
Gloria smiled in return. "I know, but I can't help wallowing in some amount of self-recrimination."
Fiona nodded. "You get used to it."
Gloria leaned close to the bars. "So,"
she whispered, "you've had a month to think about it. What's the
Before Fiona could answer, a new voice spoke. "The plan is, we
have more fun!" It was Lizette La Roque.
pert little blonde was in the doorway, dressed in a pink
silk robe, with a broad smile on her
overly-cute face. She took a step to the side, and a naked,
masked woman in serving chains pushed a cart into the bedroom.
The chained woman was tall, about six feet, with full, firm breasts and
smooth, well-tanned skin. Her physique was
athletic and feminine
perfection, personified, and her hair was a mass
shoulder-length curls. Her mask was silver. Its features
were classically beautiful, and incorporated a tiara-like gold band
that encircled her brow, rose to a peak in front, and
was decorated with a red star. A length of thin,
metallic gold rope was looped around her throat and tied with an
knot. The remainder of the rope was coiled in Lizette's
"By the cage, Diana," Lizette ordered. The servant pushed the
cart to the center of the room, then carried a silver tray from the
Fiona's cage and set it on the pink carpet. Lizette followed,
keeping slack in her golden leash.
The tray held a silver carafe, a single cup and saucer, a plate piled
with pastries, and a bowl of diced fruit. Gloria eyed the
breakfast feast, and her mouth watered. The champagne and
the previous night were only a memory, and the activities that followed
had been strenuous. She could eat.
Lizette returned to the cart, dropped the rope coils on the now empty
cart, and made a
sweeping gesture towards the door. Pushing the cart, Diana made
her exit. The door closed.
"Wonder Woman?" Gloria asked her fellow prisoner.
Fiona nodded. "Lizzie, here, is what clinical psychologists call
'spoiled rotten'. If she wants to play at dominating Wonder
Woman, 'Mumsy' gets
her a Wonder Woman."
Lizette sauntered to the cage and sat cross-legged on the carpet.
The resulting gap in her
robe revealing she was not wearing panties, pink or otherwise.
Her smile turned evil, and
she shook a finger at Fiona. "That was insubordination!"
"Just you wait until—"
"Oh, shove it!" Fiona interrupted, then turned back to Gloria.
"The Pink Poodle's bark is worse than her bite, especially when she's
trying to impress."
Gloria stared in alarm. "Huh?"
"Fifi!" Lizette warned again, still shaking her finger.
"Fifi?" Gloria asked.
Fiona nodded at Lizette. "The brat thinks it's cute to call me
Fifi," she explained. "She'll probably think up a nickname for
Lizette scowled. "I told you—"
"And I told you to shove
it!" Fiona retorted, then winked at Gloria's still shocked
expression. "She told me you were coming, and how she was going
to put you through 'Hell Week', just like she did with me.
Nonstop torture and sex, the usual."
"Fiona!" Now, Lizette's demeanor was unmistakably petulant.
"You're ruining things. Mumsy says—"
"Hush!" Fiona ordered. "Just 'cause Mumsy likes to rule the
roost from a throne of intimidation and fear—"
"Hold it!!" Gloria shouted.
Fiona and Lizette stared at the flustered Latina in surprise.
"None of this is real? You're both just playing with me? ...with
Lizette laughed, and Fiona shook her head.
"No, Honey," Fiona sighed, with a sympathetic smile, "it's all
real. The chains and bars and locks are real; the finest money
can buy, in fact. Lizzie's mom has kidnapped us, and they enjoy
playing games, and they don't give a rat's ass whether we want
to play or not, and it's very real."
Gloria's gaze turned from Fiona, to Lizette, then back to Fiona.
"She won't hurt you," Fiona said.
"I will too!" Lizette objected. "I'll—"
"Stifle!" Fiona interrupted, yet again. "She'll tie you up and do
all sorts of mean things to
you," she continued, "but she'll make
very sure you don't come to any actual harm."
"Oh yeah? Well..." Lizette paused, and sighed. "Okay,
I won't really hurt
"Liar!" Gloria huffed. "Last
night you hurt me pretty good... before they brought me here, I
Lizette smiled at Fiona. "Strappado,"
she explained, "with Mercy's special clover-clamps on her nipples and
tied to her
Fiona glared at the smiling blonde. "You bitch!"
"I try," Lizette responded, then focused on Gloria. "Admit
it. You used to play games like that with your boss—your former boss, I mean—just like Fifi
with Mumsy's fox."
Gloria frowned. "Mumsy's what?" Then she understood:
mind." She glanced at Fiona, and blushed. "Whatever
Amanda and I may or may not have done in private is none of your damn
"Besides," Lizette continued, ignoring Gloria's last statement, "I
think I more than made up
for any hurt, afterwards."
Gloria glanced at the rumpled bed, and her blush deepened. "It's
polite to ask first, before... that sort of stuff." She glanced
at Fiona. "I suppose she made you watch from your cute little
With Fiona's dark, African complexion, it was difficult to be sure, but
she may have also been
Lizette laughed. "She did a lot more than watch!"
Gloria blinked. "It was... You were the other one?"
Fiona nodded. She definitely was
Gloria lips curled in a shy smile. "What for? You were
Fiona smiled back. "So were you."
"And I know I was good,"
"Shut up, you little bitch," Fiona growled. "Strappado and tits-to-toes?
Taut, I assume. For how long?"
"Only an hour," Lizette answered.
"Bitch!" Fiona barked.
Lizette poured coffee from the carafe into the cup, then took a
sip, before answering. "Wait 'til you see what I have planned for
Fiona swallowed, nervously. "Okay, I take back the 'bitch' part,
that was mean."
"Very," Lizette agreed. "Now, are you two going to show Mistress
the proper respect? That's me," she explained to Gloria.
"So you told me," Gloria muttered, "yesterday."
Lizette smiled. "So I did," she agreed. She then focused on
Fiona. "No more impertinence,"
she ordered. "In fact, no more talking at all, or you'll both
have ball-gags for breakfast,
and you can watch me eat all
this delicious food."
Gloria and Fiona exchanged a commiserating sigh, and waited, in silent
patience, for 'Mistress' to start hand feeding them their share of the
Gloria focused on Fiona's breasts... her brown, perfect breasts... with
their dark, dusky nipples. She remembered sucking and teasing
breasts, last night, once they'd taken off her gag—and come to think of
some had been larger
than others. She noticed Fiona returning her gaze, and
blushed. A frisson of
arousal rippled through her sex. Fiona smiled, shyly, sending another quivering thrill through
Gloria's body. At least I'm
not alone, she mused, returning her fellow prisoner's
smile. Good god she's
they consumed the last of the fruit, two of the mirror-masked and
leather catsuit-clad handlers appeared, as if on cue. Fiona's
cage was unlocked, and
both captives were gagged with black ball-gags with white leather
straps Gloria and Fiona had kept
silent during the meal, as
ordered; but now their continued obedience was entirely moot.
They were hustled from the bedroom and down a series of
corridors. Still in
her pink robe, Lizette followed, a few paces behind the prisoners and
their handlers. An elevator ride brought them to another floor,
and they negotiated another maze of corridors.
Eventually, they stopped, a door opened, and they entered a large,
circular room. Its walls, ceiling, and floor were black.
in the center, brightly lit by several small spotlights, a pair of
vertical steel poles stretched from floor to ceiling.
Projecting at just below waist height on each pole was a small saddle,
steel, and rising
from each saddle—Gloria's eyes popped wide
in alarm—was a glistening
Gloria's handler forced her to her knees, then went to assist her
companion. Gloria watched as Fiona's manacles were detached from
her steel belt, and the belt removed. The goons then dragged her
to a pole, lifted Fiona above its phallus and with her back to the
pole, and eased her weight
down onto the saddle.
Gloria was close enough that she could see why the shaft now impaling
her fellow-prisoner had been glistening. It had been coated
with a thick, even layer of some sort of lubricant gel, and the excess
now oozed from the saddle
and dripped down Fiona's thighs.
Gloria forced a protest past her gag and tried to rise to her feet, but
Lizette was standing close behind. The little blonde laughed,
placed her hands on Gloria's shoulders, and forced her back to her
knees. "Going for help?" she inquired in a mocking tone.
"There are only two kinds of people in Mumsy's Tower, Glowie: those who
are here to help Mumsy and me, and the help-less. And I assure you, most
of them, especially the ones
in Mercy's 'Junior Executive Training Program', are in need of a lot more help than you and
Fifi. They'd consider what's about to happen in here to be a day
The handlers had separated and reattached Fiona's manacles and
shackles. Her wrists and ankles were now behind the pole, and she
was up on her toes, to prevent her full weight from falling on the
saddle. The catsuited she-goons picked up a long coil of white
rope and began using it to bind Fiona's body against the pole.
"The poles are more complex than they seem." Lizette lectured.
"Little teflon-lined eye-bolt thingies pop out of the back, about every
six inches from neck to ankles, and it's not really one pole, you see,
but a series of telescoping sections that..." She patted the top
of Gloria's head. "Don't worry. You'll see soon enough."
Gloria sighed. Whatever Lizette had been prattling about,
one thing was for sure: the handler-goons knew how to tie someone to a
pole, the someone in question being Fiona, of course. Gloria
watched as they looped and hitched tight, symmetrical strands around
her friend's body. Some of the runs were simple, horizontal loops
pressing her against the pole, and some were part of an emerging
diamond-hitch pattern that criss-crossed her form down its entire
length. The process took several minutes, and rather than ending
with knots, the final free-ends of the rope were threaded
into holes in the back of the pole, one behind Fiona's head and the
other near the floor. There was a whirring noise, and the
slack disappeared with a taut snap.
It was clear Fiona no
longer had to worry about keeping her weight off the steel
saddle. The thick, white rope dimpled her dark skin from
ankles. Already inescapably bound by her manacles and shackles,
she was now doubly helpless.
Next, it was Gloria's turn, of course. She didn't resist.
There didn't seem to be any point. The saddle, minimal as it was,
gave her some degree of support, but she was actually relieved when the
rope started tightening around her body. As they had with Fiona,
the handlers started with loops around her arms, breasts, and torso;
then worked their way down, adding her waist, hips, thighs, and
legs. Loop by loop and band by band, they bound Gloria in exactly
the same manner as they
Eventually, the she-goons finished their task, picked up the steel
waist belts, and exited the
room. The door closed behind them with a solid clang.
Smiling sweetly, Lizette stepped forward. The poles were just
close enough for her to cup a
breast of each of
her captive playthings. "This is going
to be a lot of fun," she purred,
giving each handful a gentle squeeze.
Gloria locked eyes with Fiona and arched an eyebrow in question.
Fiona sighed and shook her head.
Lizette had followed the exchange. "Oh, Fifi hasn't played this
game, Glowie," she told Gloria. "You should see this
place when Mercy uses it to train one of her classes. There are
sockets for two-dozen poles,
and when they're all rigged,
it looks like a veritable forest of
helpless damsels in here. One hardly knows where to look.
And when the action starts..."
Gloria and Fiona exchanged a worried glance, then shifted their
attention to their captor.
"Oh, I've said too much," Lizette whispered, with a coy smile.
"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."
Just then, the door opened and the she-goons reentered. (Their
costumes were the same two colors, anyway.) One was holding a
steel chair, or maybe it was a stool. The other had several coils
of white rope.
Now that the goons were closer, Gloria could see that the chair was more
of a stool... a disturbingly odd stool. It was made of the same
silver-chrome steel as the poles to which the captives were bound, and
it had three legs. One of the
legs extended above the seat, as a sort of minimalist backrest, and it
to follow the shape of a human spine. The seat was
rather small, and was sculpted to accept the curves of a human
rump. There was also a black phallus, identical to those
impaling Fiona and herself, and it was mounted on the seat at the
The handler mated the slightly longer back leg of the
stool with a small socket in the floor, pushed down, and the stool
locked in place with an authoritative snap.
Next, something very surprising happened: Lizette opened her robe,
shrugged out of the sleeves, and tossed the garment towards the
door! She stretched her nude, petite body, reaching for the
ceiling... then smiled at the handlers. "Okay," she said,
The handlers seized Lizette by the arms and lifted her over the
stool. The little blonde gasped
as they lowered her onto the phallus. Either it was
already well-greased, like the pole varieties, or watching her "toys"
being made helpless
had caused Lizette to lubricate herself.
The rope was next, and binding Lizette to the stool took longer than
the binding of the other two captives, combined.
Gloria glanced at Fiona, and was surprised to find her pole-tied
companion totally unamazed.
this was not the first time
she had seen the boss' daughter rendered as
helpless as herself. Crazy!
Gloria turned her attention back to the floor show.
The goons tied Lizette with her elbows touching, behind the
and her wrists together, palm-to-palm. Multiple rope bands
pressed her torso against the pole, above and below her breasts and
her waist and forearms. Additional bands lashed her lap to the
seat. Her feet
were lifted off the floor and pulled back, splaying her knees.
Her ankles were tied to the backrest-pole, and her thighs were
first lashed to her shins, then to the stool's front legs. All of
loops and bands were tightened by cinches between elbow and elbow,
wrist and wrist, waist and chair, thigh and calf, ankle and chair,
knees and chair, and wherever else the handlers could manage to snake a
length of rope. The final bondage snugged Lizette's rope-yoked
shoulders against the top of the pole.
The handlers took a step to either side and watched Lizette squirm and
struggle, fighting her bonds with all her strength. This
continued for at least a full minute... then one of the handlers
reached out and began combing her fingers through the little captive's
tousled blonde locks.
Gloria was surprised, again. The gesture was strange, almost...
"It's tight," Lizette announced, in a quiet voice. "I can't
move." She continued squirming, and the anonymous handler
continued her gentle grooming. The other handler reached into a
pocket, and produced a clear zip-lock bag containing what was
apparently a folded swatch of crimson-red cloth. Lizette's eyes
widened at the sight. Her gaze darted from the mirrored faceplate
of the handler, to the bag, and back. "No," she gasped, in a
The handler opened the bag, extracted what Gloria could now clearly see
was a pair of panties. She let them fall
open, to hang in a loose mass from the fingers of her gloved hand, then
held the crimson silk close to Lizette's flaring nostrils.
Lizette shuddered in her bonds. "No," she gasped, again, "not
The other handler suddenly tightened her grip, grabbing the petite
prisoner's hair and pulling her head back. The panties were
crammed in Lizette's gasping mouth, and held there with a tight
What did she say? Gloria
wondered. 'No mercies'?
...or was it 'not Mercy's'? ...as in Mercy Dench's panties??
the handlers were applying strips of white tape to Lizette's lips,
sealing her mouth and covering her lower face from just under her
nostrils to just under the point
of her chin. Gloria couldn't be sure, but neither of the masked
goons looked tall enough to actually be
Mercy Dench, so the use of Mercy's intimate apparel as
gag-stuffing was prearranged?? ...by Mercy herself, maybe?? This place
is a frakkin' madhouse!!
The handlers made a final check of Lizette's bonds... then checked
Fiona and Gloria... then retrieved Lizette's robe... and exited the
chamber. The door closed with a clang,
squirmed against her bonds. Now that she was free of distractions
(more or less) she realized the rope was actually slightly elastic,
like very stiff bungee cord. If her wrists and ankles weren't
locked in inescapable steel, and the ropes hadn't been applied with
such obvious skill, there was enough stretch that she might have been able to wiggle out
of them... eventually... maybe.
Fiona was testing her bonds, as well; but Lizette was sitting perfectly
still and smiling behind her gag at her now fellow-captives.
Seconds passed... and became a minute. One minute became two.
Suddenly, there was a hydraulic hiss,
and Fiona rose into the air, about two
feet. She screamed through her gag and her eyes popped
wide. A buzzing noise sounded and she slowly dropped, about six
inches, then rose again. Her rope bonds had tightened, dimpling
her skin even further.
Gloria could see that six-inch sections of Fiona's pole were
telescoping apart, about an inch between each section, opening and
closing as she was carried up
and down. The pace slowly increased, and the tone of the buzzing
sound modulated with each cycle. This continued for about a
minute, until Fiona's breasts were bobbing and oscillating—then there
another hiss and Fiona and her pole slowly dropped to their original
Her toes back on the floor, Fiona shivered in her bonds. A film
of sweat glistened on her
face and between her breasts.
Gloria frowned. What the hell
is going on? she wondered. What—"M'rrh!!" She shrieked through her gag
as her own pole lifted her into the air. The buzz sounded again,
and it was the phallus buried in her
sex! It was pulsing and vibrating! Her bonds had
tightened, as the pole first rose, and then repeatedly, as the
telescoping sections opened and closed. The damn thing's humping me! she
realized. It went on and on, and like it had with Fiona, the pace
accelerated! Much to her chagrin, and despite her smoldering
resentment at the way she
was being treated—Gloria had to admit
it was starting to
then it stopped... leaving her in the lurch. Dammit!!
Gloria glared at
Lizette. You bitch!
It was pointless, of course. In fact, Gloria knew her helpless
outrage was probably stoking the little blonde's fire. Suddenly,
the buzzing noise returned! Gloria focused on Fiona, expecting to
see her rising back into the air—but Fiona's position
was unchanged, and her eyes
were on Lizette.
Gloria turned back to the captive blonde, and noticed she was squirming
with renewed enthusiasm. It's her
turn, Gloria realized.
Lizette's phallic invader that had come to life! It buzzed and
throbbed for a minute, the same as with the pole-bound captives—then
An irritatingly smug smile on her tape-gagged face, Lizette gazed at
Gloria—then swiveled her
head to Fiona.
Fiona gazed back—then moaned as, once
again, her pole lifted her into the air and her vibrator came back to
Gloria sighed, knowing she would be next. How long is this 'game' going to last?
she wondered. It was all getting to be just too much!
Being kidnapped was bad enough; having a sadistic, possibly unbalanced
youngster have her way with her was certainly
bad enough; but they kept changing the damn rules!!
was emotionally and physically tired—and now they weren't
going to let her rest!
She desperately wanted a chance to get somewhere with Fiona and
talk. She needed the low down on this place. Maybe Fiona
had some ideas on how to get out of here, and maybe not; but what she desperately needed was some
balance, some idea of the rules.
Fiona's feet were back on the ground, and while she was obviously
aroused, Gloria was sure she hadn't had a chance to cum.
This is mean, Gloria fumed,
glaring at Lizette. She knew what was coming. It would only
matter of seconds until—"M'rrf!!" Gloria was back in
the air, and the monster in her sex was buzzing away! As
before, as with Fiona, the bobbing pace slowly accelerated, but she
could tell that unless the "ordeal" lasted longer than it had
before, she wouldn't be able to cum this time, either. Maybe
later, after several more rounds
this pogo-stick-from-hell, she would
cum... but not this time...
not during round two.
Gloria continued to glare at Lizette as she was repeatedly lifted and
on the saddle and buzzing rod, and the elastic ropes squeezed her
body. Bitch! she
silently cursed the watching Lizette.
I hope Amanda's having better luck!