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hour turned into two... then two into three. Amanda's smoldering
anger and humiliation were slowly overtaken by the increasing
of her predicament. This wasn't her first experience with an
extended hogtie—far from it—but it was probably the tightest bind she'd
had to endure for more than several minutes.
The first hour was occupied by what she knew would be a totally futile
effort to find a weakness in Petra's handiwork. Her fingers
stretched and probed, but it was useless. Even the knots of the
bands of cinched cords that, even if untied,
would not lead to an
escape—remained intact. In point of fact, if she had correctly
analyzed Petra's technique,
there were no terminal knots
within five times the reach
of her hands.
Midway through the second hour, however, Amanda achieved a lesser goal:
mind escaped into a meditative trance, a sort of semiconscious dream
state. Her breathing slowed, as did her heartbeat, and all
thoughts of her current discomfort, her anxiety for Gloria, her concern
about their ultimate fates—all simply vanished.
It was something her father had taught her, a prerequisite for learning
the classic "Coffin Escape". Sometimes, when she achieved this
oxygen and strength-conserving state, her mind would enter a surreal,
semi-hallucinogenic, fantasy world; but usually, she found herself
home, in "The Pressfield Compound": an old ranch house,
barn, and garage/workshop. It was tucked into a
small, timbered valley on the western slope of the Bitterroot
Mountains, just south of Missoula and west of Florence. Their
a commanding view of the broad, glacial valley below. This
weekend she would be backpacking with her friends up to St.
Mary's Peak, then north, along the continental divide, a five day trek
bring them to a Forest Service road that led past the rear of their
property; but today—today she finally got to start her formal lessons
The first full day of summer vacation,
between Amanda's junior and senior years of high school.
She'd been pestering her father for more than a year to let her join
the act. She ran track, so she was in shape, and her boobs had
blossomed in the last couple of years, so she'd fill out an assistant's
costume quite nicely. Any fool (or hypothetical audience member)
could see that—but The
Amazing Peter Pressfield would have none of it! He kept
prattling on about wanting a "better life" for his "little girl"; how
business was risky, and not always rewarding; about how
happier she'd be doing something else—anything
His heartfelt and well-reasoned arguments fell on deaf ears.
Amanda had been "escapologizing" for years, by herself and with her friends.
Granted, it was mostly play, Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers,
Pirates and Damsels, and her friends had all drifted away to other
Amanda was serious! She was in it for
the Art (...and the
fun). It was time to turn pro!
She finally wore down all objections, and now she was on her way to the
barn, dressed in cowboy boots, jeans,
and a Western-style work shirt, as ordered. Her dark hair was
down the middle and hanging in a pair of tight braids, one to either
side of her lightly freckled face. This was not something Daddy had ordered,
and she usually thought it made her look too cowgirlie, but she knew Daddy liked
it... and he was
going to teach her how to ESCAPE!!
Amanda pulled open the door... and froze. Daddy was there, but
so was his assistant, Chessy Golden. Amanda blinked in
surprise. She didn't mind Chessy
being there—she liked Chessy—but she had assumed
going to be one-on-one time with her father!
"Close it!" Peter Pressfield ordered, "the door and your mouth. You'll let
the flies in."
Amanda pulled the heavy door closed and hurried
forward. Both her father and Chessy were dressed much like
herself; but, as always, no matter what
they were wearing—Daddy was strikingly
handsome, like a
prince from some exotic European country visiting a dude ranch—and
well, Chessy was a tall, drop-dead-gorgeous redhead, built like a
drop-dead-gorgeous chorus girl. But what was she doing here, now?
Peter Pressfield turned to his assistant. "Your orders
are clear?" he inquired.
Chessy smiled at Amanda. "Show her the ropes. Make it tight
and real. Let her see what this is all about."
"Daddy!" Amanda objected. "I thought you were going to teach me."
"I've delegated that tiresome task," her father explained, a smile
softening his remarks. "I'm
going into Missoula."
"Of course," her father continued, "if you'd like to forget all this training nonsense,
with me, after I'm finished at the bank we could go to the
mall... and then to dinner?"
Amanda struck her most determined pose.
"Oh no you don't! You
Peter stepped forward and kissed the top of Amanda's head.
"Stubborn and beautiful," he chuckled. "More like your mother
every day." He turned back to Chessy. "Tight and
aren't doing her any favors by going easy. She's got to see what
she's up against." He kissed Amanda's head, again, and headed for
door. "I'll be back around dark," he said, and was gone.
Amanda stared at the closed door, then turned to face Chessy.
The redhead grinned. "Don't look at me like that, Kiddo.
all The Amazing's
idea." She walked to a large
worktable and picked up a coil of soft, quarter-inch, braided cotton
rope. "I won't hurt you."
Amanda snorted in disgust. "Duh!" She joined Chessy at the
table, reached out, and fingered one of the free ends of the
rope. "I know you won't hurt me, Chester, I just don't know why
Daddy doesn't want to teach me himself."
Chessy's smile took a slightly sinister
turn. "He's afraid he won't be cruel enough."
Amanda's smile was skeptical.
"And you will be?"
"The Amazing thinks the best way to start training a novice is to
run her smack into the wall, full speed; then dial things back. He
wants me to show
you what it's like to experience the inescapable. Lessons in knot
manipulation techniques come later."
"But it won't be that bad, will it? You really won't hurt me?"
"Duh!" Chessy laughed. "Spin around, Little Amazing. Palms
"Don't call me that!" Amanda complained, but did as ordered, executing
a half turn and placing her hands behind her back. "Is this what
Hey, you're fast!"
With deft professionalism, Chessy had folded two loops in the center of
the coil of rope to form a clove-hitch, then pulled the empty knot over
Amanda's hands and cinched it tight around her wrists. "I don't
get paid by the
hour," she chuckled, continuing to bind her student, "and I've
got chores to finish—chores besides trussing
up the boss' daughter, that is." She looped rope around Amanda's
hands, pressing her palms together, and then around her thumbs.
then cinched the loops between her wrists and tied a square knot,
the still very long free
ends through the knot and making it tight and compact.
She used another coil to bind Amanda's elbows and loop tight bands
above and below her
breasts, pinning her arms to her torso and yoking her shoulders.
The final knot was tied between her elbows, and as with Amanda's
wrists, the free ends were still several feet in length.
Chessy patted the work table, then put her hands on Amanda's
waist and gently spun her around. "Up!" she ordered.
"Okay." Amanda jumped, with a boost from Chessy, and sat on
the edge of the table. She watched as Chessy used a third coil of
bind her ankles. "Why are you tying the insteps and heels of my
Chessy smiled up at Amanda's puzzled face as she tied the final
Again, there were several feet of rope still free. "There's an
element of art to a good 'Inescapable'," she explained. "That's
what we call a session like this: an Inescapable. This will be
"Inescapable," Amanda repeated, in a whisper. Chessy was busy
her knees together. She watched as Chessy cinched the ropes and
tied the final knot. "I'm pretty good at wiggling out of stuff
ya know," Amanda said. "Just ask my friends."
Chessy smiled. "Kiddo, you have no idea what you're talking
about." She patted the table again, and Amanda flopped onto her
stomach and squirmed to the middle of the hardwood surface.
"There are a set of principles and techniques that can be applied to
render a person completely helpless," Chessy lectured, "without causing
them lasting harm. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to give you
a series of practical demonstrations. Next, you're going to learn
how to apply these
principles and techniques; and only
then will I start teaching
to exploit errors and mistakes."
"How to escape."
"How to escape," Chessy agreed. She was intertwining the free
ends of the various ropes and pulling them to the edges of the
table. One by one, she tied the stretched ends to eye bolts
screwed into the underside of
the table's frame. As this was accomplished, Amanda's bonds
coalesced into a tight hogtie.
"Ugh!" Amanda grunted, as the final knot was tied. "And when do I
start learning the act?"
Chessy laughed. "Like The
Amazing said, first you learn the
ropes. After that, you learn how to care for the ropes. Then, you learn the handcuffs,
chains, padlocks, leather straps, etc. Then, you learn to care for
the handcuffs, chains, etc. And if you're diligent, and
learn, and show the talent—then, and only then,
do you start learning
the act. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am," Amanda sighed, squirming in her bonds. The ropes
not only squeezed her limbs together, but lashed her to the table like
luggage on a roof rack. She watched Chessy walk to a cabinet and
return with something in her hand. "What's that?"
Chessy held the object for Amanda's inspection. It was a white
plastic whiffle ball pierced by a black leather strap.
"A gag?" Amanda demanded.
"This is one we classify as a 'breather'," Chessy explained. "It
cut the noise level by much, but it does
make it difficult
to carry on a conversation. More importantly, it's about as safe
as a gag can be."
"It also makes it quite impossible to manipulate things—like rope, for
example—with your lips and
Amanda snorted in disgust. "You've got to be kidding. What am I
supposed to be trying to 'manipulate'? There's nothing within reach of my fingers
"Don't look at me like that, Little Amazing," Chessy chuckled as she
buckled the strap. "You want to do this, or not?"
Amanda continued to glare.
"I meant, of course, do you want to continue your training," Chessy
clarified. "It's quite clear you don't like the gag."
Amanda squirmed in her bonds and mewled through the gag in question.
Chessy gently straightened the hang of Amanda's braids, then patted her
"I'll take that as a 'yes'. You look so cute like that, Little
Chessy laughed. "Okay, okay, I won't call you that... for the
rest of the day." She turned and walked towards the barn
your mission is to escape. Of course, you won't be doing that,
but I do expect a detailed
verbal report on everything you do to make the attempt, when I
which will be... later."
She stepped across the threshold, sent a gloating (but not mean-spirited) air-kiss in
Amanda's direction, and
pulled the door closed.
Amanda stared at the back of the closed door. A disgusting string of drool was
dripping from her mouth and pooling on the table. Surprisingly,
while her bonds were tight and restrictive, they were not particularly
uncomfortable. Of course, she'd only had to endure their
embrace for a short time, but her hands and arms weren't tingling or
going numb, like sometimes happened when she played with her
friends. She tried wiggling her fingers, with limited
success. Even if the key knots were within their greatly
encumbered reach, and not hopelessly
out of reach and out of
sight, tied in the ends
of the ropes pinning her to the table, she wouldn't have been able to
What was expected of her in this first lesson was obvious: do her best,
and endure. Amanda
relaxed in her bonds, as best she could—her first set of 'Inescapable' bonds—and she endured.
week after Amanda's eighteenth birthday.
Amanda smiled and
waved as Daddy's pickup exited the compound gate and headed towards the
road that snaked and switchbacked down the slope to the
valley below. The sound of the crunching tires faded, the minor
of pale dust began to dissipate, and Amanda's smile turned decidedly
She turned and headed for the barn. The Pressfields
keep any livestock. With the patriarch out of town on tour, for
months at a time, it wasn't practical. Amanda had to do her
riding during visits to her friends' spreads. The barn—the main floor, root
cellar, and hayloft—were used for
storage, as work space... and for other
was wearing her favorite
boots, skintight jeans, and a Western shirt, with the sleeves
rolled up and the shirttails tied in front, baring her midriff.
Her hair was a riot of raven curls, cascading down her back in a loose
ponytail enforced by a narrowly folded bandanna. She unlocked the
side door's high security padlock, released the door's
substantial bolt and latch, and entered. She made her way to the
back of the hot, dark barn, climbed the wooden ladder that led to the
Chessy was exactly where she
had left her, standing between two vertical support posts—and not
It was an idea from one of Amanda's notebooks, an idea she'd made
together odds and ends from Daddy's workshops.
Chessy was wearing
one of her old assistant's costumes, the strapless leotard part,
anyway. Her feet and long, shapely legs were bare. There
was no such
thing as old net pantyhose. Once they were damaged, out they
went. The leotard was metallic gold and very French cut. The
remaining elements of Chessy's ensemble were all restraints.
arms were behind her back in a single-sleeve of butter-soft, pliant,
black leather, cross-laced from wrists to top with a black leather
thong, secured first with a surgeon's knot, then an elegant and
rosette. The ends had been trimmed close, making the intricate
complex of interlaced strands impossible to untie. The sleeve
alone was tight enough and secure enough to defeat any attempt at
escape, but it was
only the beginning.
A harness of leather straps encircled Chessy's form. It yoked her
passed above and below her breasts, pinched her waist, and pinned her
sleeve-encased arms against her body. It also bound
her legs together above and below her knees, around her calves and
shins, and around her ankles. The vertical straps of the harness,
as well as the diagonal straps crossing her shoulders, were thin and
the horizontal straps were thick and wide, about an
inch-and-a-half. They were secured with double-tongued buckles,
in a neat, vertical row down
Steel rings sewn into the harness' sides were lashed to the posts with
cord, in an intricate spiderweb-like arrangement; but it was not to keep Chessy standing
upright. A pair of stout hemp ropes passing through rings at her
shoulders and up to the rafters performed that function. Small
incorporated into the web of cords, and the entire pattern was
interconnected, with the ends tied to a set of four home-made
of Amanda's design.
Each switch consisted of a cylindrical fishing weight hot-glued to a
copper plate. A second copper plate was glued to a block of wood
on the floor. One of the cords kept the weight suspended above
the block, separating the plates by about a quarter-inch. Thin,
coiled wires traveled from the plates to a hobbyist's junction box
purchased from the Radio Shack in Missoula.
As long as the plates were apart, the circuit was open, but if they
came together, current would flow.
The cord web was just tight
enough to keep all four circuits open; but if Chessy squirmed in her
bonds or twisted her body, there was a significant chance that one or
more of the pairs of plates would
kiss. If she allowed the ropes tied through the harness' shoulder
rings to take her weight, all four
And what was the consequence of the captive redhead allowing the plates
to make contact? A large, wand-style vibrator was strapped
legs, with its head pressed firmly against her sex. If one pair
of plates met, the wand would vibrate at its lowest setting. As
each additional pair met, the power level would increase. If all four met, the wand would buzz at
There was an additional refinement.
A three-inch hole had been drilled in the barn's south-facing wall and
with a thin plate of glass. At this time of day, a beam of
sunlight lanced from the tiny window and struck the hayloft's wooden
floor. It was actually Amanda's High School Science Fair
project. Weather allowing, she had carefully marked the position
of the sunbeam at hourly intervals, for a full year.
Not every day, of course,
but often enough to derive a simple set of
equations that described and predicted the movement of the
beam. It had been good enough to get her to the State Finals,
where she was awarded a bronze-category ribbon—hardly surprising,
since most of her classmates had presented poster reports about
wildlife or tree
species, not really getting the whole experimental
in the first place. It had not
been good enough to compete
with the hard-core science geeks, with their robots, molecular biology
protocols, and college-level mathematics. No problem. The
project served its purpose: it
would help get her into University; and it provided a timer for her
Diabolical Torture Device.
The arcs of Amanda's solar calendar were marked on the floor with tiny
copper tacks, and waiting near the end of the arc was
another gizmo purchased from Radio Shack: a small, rectangular,
panel. It was also wired into the junction box, and when the
sunbeam reached the panel—which would be in
about two hours—and for however long
it remained shining on the panel—which would be for
about a half-hour—the vibrator would
buzz at full power, no
matter how Chessy struggled to avoid its rubberized, doorknob-size
Amanda slowly sauntered towards her "victim", her boots tapping the
wooden planks with every step. "I assume you heard Daddy leaving,
never suspecting you're my helpless prisoner, locked in the barn, of
course... so now it's just us girls." She pulled the bandanna
from her hair, and used it to pat her face. "Hot up here, isn't
remarked. It was hot, indeed, with the sun beating on the barn
roof. The still air in the hayloft hovered somewhere in
the low nineties.
Chessy didn't answer. Another of the Pressfield arsenal of
"breather gags" made this impossible. It was a thin, wide flap of
black leather, tightly covering Chessy's lower face from just below her
flaring nostrils to just above the point of her chin, and was
secured with a broad, double-tongued buckle at the nape of her
neck. The bulge of a large rubber ball could be
seen, under the panel and in her mouth, and the ball and panel were
pierced by a half-inch hole.
Also, Chessy didn't need to
answer. Her skin was shining with
sweat, and several strands of her copper-red hair were plastered to
her freckled face. Of course
it was hot. There was no fear in her gorgeous, hazel eyes,
only a smoldering resentment.
Amanda wasn't fooled. "Don't stare your daggers at me, Chester," she
said. "If you didn't want to do this, why'd you volunteer?"
This was another question not requiring an answer. One of
Chessy's presents to Amanda, on her eighteenth birthday, had been a
promise to act
as test subject
for an Inescapable from Amanda's "Inescapable Notebook".
course, Chessy had no way of knowing that the teenager's active fantasy
was going through an "overly-complicated deathtraps" phase, and that
she'd already cobbled together the elements of a full day's
"entertainment" for her "present"—or that said
"entertainment" would be so... intimate.
She knew now.
There was something else that was now abundantly obvious: Amanda had
developed a full-blown crush on
her escapology teacher.
It wasn't as if there hadn't been signs—the shy, flirtatious
rapt attention to every word of instruction during lessons;
Amanda's lingering in the barn to watch when Chessy practiced the act
father... not that Chessy seemed to mind. "Little Amazing" knew
blossomed into an incredible beauty—smart as the
proverbial tack, dedicated, and determined to make
a go of her chosen profession. How could Chessy not like her?
And she wasn't so little any
more... especially across the chest.
A large fly was buzzing around the the immediate area. Amanda
watched as it landed on Chessy's shoulder, then crawled across her
glistening, freckled skin—over the leather of
the first horizontal strap of the harness—and onto the bulge of
her right breast.
"Shoo!" Amanda waved her hand and the fly took flight. They
hear it buzz away to the barn's interior, then all was quiet.
"He's waiting 'til I go away," Amanda said, then reached into her
pocket and produced a folding knife. She opened the blade,
and with careful, deft precision, began severing the threads holding
together the right bra cup of Chessy's leotard.
"M'mmr"—buzzz—"RRF!" Chessy had
tried to pull back, but her bonds made this impossible; and her efforts
had caused two pair of the copper plates of her Deathtrap Predicament to kiss,
sending a vibrating pulse through
her loins. She watched as Amanda finished severing the seams of
the cup and pulled down the ruined remains, exposing her right breast.
"Very pretty," Amanda sighed, and started on the left cup. "Don't
worry," she said, "I'm being very careful. If you want to keep
this old rag, you can stitch it back together, no problem." She
exposed Chessy's left breast, then folded and
pocketed her knife. Her leering, gloating smile had become open,
appreciation. "So very pretty," she whispered, then gave the
right nipple a hesitant, almost chaste kiss.
Chessy shivered in her bonds. Her "angry" glare had
softened. Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared above her gag.
"You're completely helpless," Amanda whispered, "aren't you? I
can do anything I want... and you can't stop me." she leaned
close and used the tip of her tongue to tickle Chessy's right
nipple. Both nipples slowly grew hard and erect. "Daddy
won't save you," Amanda purred. "Daddy's on his way to
town. In fact, he's still in the going-away part of the journey, and
he'll be gone 'til well after
The fly had returned. It took a lazy, buzzing circuit of Amanda
and her "victim", then returned to the main barn.
"Flies," Amanda said, her expression suddenly thoughtful. "I
wonder how many we could attract if I coated your tits with a nice,
even coat of... honey..." She kissed each nipple in turn, and
this time her actions were anything but
chaste. "...or maybe molasses?"
Chessy's glare returned, but she was having obvious difficulty keeping
her gagged moans from betraying her growing excitement. They'd
shared Damsel-in-Distress fantasies, especially over tea or hot cocoa
in front of the fire. They both knew the other considered
escapology more than just a job. Even so, Amanda's lessons had
entirely professional... well, mostly
professional. There had been a little teasing and gloating, on
both their parts, when Chessy tied Amanda, and vice versa... but
nothing explicitly erotic had ever happened. Okay, okay, there'd
been a few greeting kisses that were, perhaps, a tad enthusiastic; and
a few touches that had lingered just a little too long... but nothing
Amanda smiled. "Don't worry, Chester," she reassured her
captive. "It's too hot to climb down the ladder, rummage around
the pantry to find a jar of honey or molasses, climb back up
the ladder, and paint your boobs."
The fly made another circuit of the hayloft, and this time it settled
somewhere among the rafters. "Besides, your friend seems to think
you're plenty sweet without any
added enticement. He must like the taste of your sweat."
With a mischievous grin, she leaned close and gave the glistening,
sweat-beaded skin of Chessy's sternum a slow lick. "Umm,
wonder if any of his friends will show up." She took Chessy's
head in her hands, and kissed her damp forehead. "Keep count for
Amanda took a step back—took a long, last,
look at Chessy's helpless form, from head to toe—then strolled to the
ladder. "Yeah, it's damn hot.
I'm going skinny-dipping in the pond," she announced. "If you
manage to escape... come join me."
The fly lifted off from the rafters, buzzed around Amanda, then landed
on Chessy's left breast. Amanda grinned, blew Chessy an air kiss,
and started down the ladder.
Amanda was roused
from her trance-induced daydream. Two of Petra's glamazons were
using some sort of shear-like tools to sever her bonds, releasing her
from the tight hogtie she had endured for... several hours? The
the sunlight streaming through the office windows confirmed the sad
truth... as did the aching, sore, stiff condition of her body.
The last of the cords were removed, and she lay in a semi-fetal tuck on
the coffee table. The combination ball-bit gag remained strapped
in her mouth. Her jaw ached as badly as her shoulders, spine, and
knees... but she was too weak to reach up and try to remove it.
She was too weak to do much of anything at all.
The glamazons stepped back, and Amanda turned her head.
Petra La Roque was standing in the middle of her office, smiling down
at the conversation pit and the naked, pitiful prisoner lying on her
coffee table. She was dressed in an ivory business suit, with
stockings and heels. In her right hand was the leather loop of a
light steel chain, and attached to the other end of that chain was the
rust-red leather collar of a mostly naked female prisoner.
The prisoner was a
redhead, evident from the copper-red color of her long curls and the abundance of
freckles covering her tall, toned, athletic body. She was wearing
a leather mask, artfully sculpted and dyed in tones of rusty red,
to resemble the visage of a red fox. It covered her eyes and
upper face, but
didn't conceal the black rubber ball and rust leather strap of the gag
in her mouth.
Her restraints, while obviously inescapable, were dyed and fringed to
carry forward the fox
motif. Black mittens resembling paws covered her fists,
then transitioned into rust-colored sleeves that strapped her elbows
together behind her back and cuffed her wrists to the waist of a tight
leather corset. The corset was white in front and rust-red
on the sides and behind, and it incorporated a bronze-toned, metal
Hanging from the back of the chastity belt, possibly
from the end of a butt-plug, was a large, fluffy fox tail—rust red with a white
The final element of the costume was a curious pair of knee
boots. They were rust at the top, and darkened to black at the
toes. There were no heels, but the elevated, stiff design of the
insoles forced the wearer to hold her feet permanently on pointe.
As a final touch, and in the same
manner as the
the actual toes of the boots resembled paws.
Amanda forced a mewling cry past her gag, and her eyes popped
wide. Only the
captive's gagged mouth, shoulders, upper arms, breasts, hips, and
exposed; but she could also see
her hazel-green eyes through the mask.
question, the "fox" was Chessy!!