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Amanda and her two handlers arrived at a steel door. There was a
pause while the lime-green glamazon entered a code in its cypherlock
keypad. She used her body to block the actual entry from Amanda's
as always. The door opened and they crossed the threshold.
The room beyond was large, with a high ceiling. A grid
of track-mounted fixtures cast a bright, uniform light. The
walls were clad with woven fabric in a rich, golden tan, and thick
pile carpeting of a similar hue covered the floor. Matching,
drapes stretched across the far end of the room, and Amanda
tell if the drapes were covering a wall, a window, or some additional
Petra La Roque was waiting. She was
dressed—or rather, half-dressed—in
beige stockings and garter belt, and matching panties and demi-bra.
else might be around her, Amanda was aware of only one
thing—the object of her burning
hatred was in her presence! Her field of
vision narrowed, until only her blonde, smug, semi-dressed
nemesis seemed to be in focus. Everything else was a fuzzy,
red-tinged cloud, and time slowed to a
surreal crawl. She felt her leash go slack as the lime glamazon
let its terminal loop slide from her gloved wrist. The lavender
glamazon had turned away, her immediate attention on something other
than Amanda. Aware of the physical limitations imposed by her
shackles—equally aware of how her balance would be affected by having
her wrists cuffed to the back of her steel waist belt—Amanda took five
chain-abbreviated steps towards Petra,
lowered her head, screamed through
her gag, and
delivered a head butt to
Amanda's rage abated and her senses returned to normal. The
glamazons were gripping
the arms, one of them had a boot planted over her hobbling chain, and
the other had a tight hold on her tousled hair. Petra was on the
floor, clutching her stomach—and laughing! Amanda glared
at the mirthful blonde through her cat mask and growled through her
"Oh, my Pretty Pussy is angry,"
Petra noted as she climbed to her feet. Amanda continued glaring
as Petra examined her cat mask. "Perfect," the smiling blonde
remarked. She reached out and cupped Amanda's breasts, and gave
them a gentle squeeze. Amanda flinched and struggled at her
touch, but her handlers held her firm. "I apologize that the rest
your Calico Kitty costume isn't ready." She used the palm of her
left hand to
give Amanda's right nipple a slow, gentle massage with a light circular
motion, and let her right hand slide down Amanda's abdomen until her
fingers slid among the dark curls of the prisoner's pubic
bush. "They fabricated mittens and kitty-boots, as well as a
matching corset, but I decided they just didn't look right." She
slid her right index finger against her prisoner's sex and Amanda
"Everything is being redone. In the meantime, we'll have to
make do with your pretty mask..." She favored Amanda with an
infuriatingly coy, gloating smirk. "...and that magnificent robotic tail."
Amanda's breasts were heaving, and her nipples had both popped
erect. Every twitch and swish of the yard-long tail attached to
the curved, steel hook embedded in her rear caused the
end to quiver, ever so slightly. The sensation was...
unsettling, and did nothing to help her control her anger.
Petra continued teasing Amanda's nipples and sex. "I forgive your
aggressive display," she cooed. "Pussycats have their
moods. Yes, exquisite body... unmatched
an escape artist... and that
unconquerable spirit... The very qualities that make you such a
valuable employee. It would be foolish to damage any
part of such a stunning combination, even in well-deserved
punishment." Petra focused on the green, reflective faceplate of
the lime glamazon's
helmet. "On the other hand, incompetence requires
correction. Are you sorry you let the control of your charge
slip?" The glamazon lowered her helmeted head, and Petra gestured
"Put Pretty Pussy to bed, using
double chains, then..." She focused on the lavender
glamazon. "...take your green
companion to the auto-fuck rack, strip her, oil her from head to toe,
and install her..." She turned back to the lime glamazon.
"...hmm, face-down, I think. Use the vacuum bra
option, and set the program on full stretch and total frustration, at
slowest speed. I'll be using her for whip practice...
sometime late this evening." She snapped her fingers. "Now!"
The glamazons hustled Amanda to one side of the room. Her eyes
popped wide and she growled
through her gag, again. They were dragging her towards what could
only be described as an oversize pet bed. It was oval in shape,
and well-padded with pale, artificial
Amanda screamed in
frustration as they forced her to her
knees in the center of the bed, then locked pairs of chains to her
belt, and the center ring of her hobble chain. The chains were
heavy. They allowed sufficient slack to let her roll, stretch,
and flex her bound body, but the ends of each pair were attached to
eye bolts on opposite sides of the bed, keeping her confined to the
middle of its soft, pillowy surface. She writhed and tested her
new bonds, but all this accomplished
was to cause the chains
to rattle and the silver bell still dangling from her
diamond studded collar to tinkle. Amanda continued her futile
efforts for several seconds... perhaps half a minute... then sighed
her gag, flopped onto her right side, and glared up at Petra La Roque.
Petra was watching from a few feet away, her hands on her hips and
a smile still curling her perfect lips. "Look at that tail
smug blonde remarked. "I think the design team deserves a
bonus." She turned, snapped her fingers, and pointed to the lime
The glamazon to be punished pulled her baton from her boot-sheath and
tossed it to her
lavender companion. She then unzipped the wide, bracer-like cuffs
of her leather catsuit, shook them out, and let them droop over her
closed, gloved fists. The lavender glamazon zipped the sleeves
closed, converting them, in effect, to bondage mittens. She then
spun the lime glamazon around, folded her hands behind her back, and
used plasticuffs to bind her wrists to her harness,
high on her back in a reverse-prayer. She pulled more
plastic ties from hidden sheathes in the lime-glamazon's costume and
used them to secure her arms to her sides, looping the thick bands
through straps and rings in the harness and the catsuit's sleeves,
her upper arms, above and below her elbows, and around her forearms,
wrists, and through the small rings at the tips of the mitten-cuffs.
Amanda realized the glamazons' uniforms were designed with built-in features
that allowed them to be quickly converted to bondage costumes as secure
inescapable as anything in La Roque's Donjon
catalog. Amanda stretched in her bonds. Interesting,
she thought. Useful
information... assuming I ever get a chance to do more than dream
making an escape.
Petra turned at the sound of Amanda's tinkling bell and clattering
chains, and again, smiled down at her glowering captive. "I'll
a secret," she purred. "Sometimes, I think they make mistakes on
purpose, to get my attention." She sat cross-legged on the
floor, next to Amanda's bed. "Not to worry. Their
'mistakes' are always minor and inconsequential, and after I've finished punishing our
viridescent friend, I have no doubt that Mercy will add some 'refresher
training' to her work schedule. The
others will take note, and will be more
diligent in the execution of their duties... at least for a
while. From now on, I can't promise your handling won't be just a
tad more... rigorous."
Amanda watched as the lavender glamazon handed Petra the remote control
for her still thrashing, twitching tail, then led her captive companion
the room. The door closed with a solid thud, and she
turned her masked gaze back to Petra.
Petra leaned close and reached behind
unbuckled and removed her muzzle, and then her ball-gag.
Glowering at her captor through her feline mask, Amanda licked her
"Oh, Pretty Pussy," Petra cooed. "Still angry? Well... I
suppose that's to be expected." She smiled, and did something to
the tail remote.
Amanda tensed, expecting another punishing shock; but instead, the tail
slowed the pace of its twitching, swinging motion.
"There," Petra said. "Now it's in 'relaxed' mode. and will only
move randomly, now and then. It won't match your mood,
the batteries will last much longer before needing recharging."
Just then, the door opened and Petra's Pair pushed a serving cart into
the room. It was laden with covered bowls—another Tower
Petra's smile broadened. "Ah, breakfast!"
watched as the maids, in serving chains and
as always, arranged what could
only be described as a breakfast picnic, with pastries, sliced fruit,
tiny sausages, scrambled eggs, and coffee. Her stomach grumbled.
"Hime," Petra said, "it's your turn to care for Ms. Pressfield.
Be careful, my Pretty Pussy is in a foul mood. Don't let her bite
Amanda regarded the Japanese maid through the eyes of her feline
mask. "I'm not angry with you,
Hime-sama..." she said in a quiet
voice. then lifted her eyes to the red-haired maid. "...or
with you, Keira." She shifted her gaze to Petra. "On the
"Oh my," Petra chuckled. "You're in a foul mood, indeed.
You certainly look like you'd bite my
suppose it's just as well I've
decided to give you a rest day... and for us to have our first
of expanding your contract."
"What are you prattling about?" Amanda demanded.
Petra smiled while Keira handed her a full cup of steaming
coffee. She took
a careful sip, then continued. "I have plans for you, Amanda, big plans."
Hime held a coffee cup to Amanda's lips. She took a sip of the
strong, delicious brew. "Thank you," she whispered to the masked
maid. Her eyes remained on Petra.
"Being your senior by... a few years," Petra continued, "my pursuit of
our common interest predates
"Common interest," Amanda sneered. "I'm not a kidnapper."
"I refer to Escapology, of course," Petra responded. "Anyway,
take it from
your elder opposite. It takes two to tango. Yin requires yang."
"Good requires evil," Amanda muttered.
"Exactly!" Petra laughed, accepting a loaded plate from Keira.
She forked some eggs into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
"Anyway..." She paused to consume a small link sausage.
that you and Chessy talked about how wonderful it would be to
have a theater, someplace, to serve as home base for your respective
acts, and as a school for up-and-coming young talent."
"That was a long time ago," Amanda said, "before..."
"Before your father's untimely death," Petra responded, "when you used
to lounge around the fire with Chessy, dreaming about
the future... and sucking face."
"Look, bitch," Amanda hissed, "I'm sick
of you talking about my
father's death like it was any of
business, and I'm sick of
your sadistic games."
"Then why don't you escape?" Petra asked, then took another bite of
Amanda didn't answer. She had no
answer. She continued to glare at her smug, blonde
captor. Hime offered a fork-load of eggs, and she opened her
mouth and allowed herself to be fed.
Petra continued eating as well, then put down her plate. "I'm not
totally insensitive," she
said, eliciting a disgusted snort from Amanda, "but ours is an intimate
relationship. Yin and Yang, as I said—Ahab and the Great
White Whale, Saint George and the Dragon, Austin Powers and Doctor
"You should consider therapy," Amanda suggested.
Petra laughed, then took a drink of coffee. "I'm serious, Pretty
Pussy. One last comparison: Sir Edmund Hilary and Mount
Everest. Whether you realize it or not, I am your Everest.
If you can escape from my ropes, my costumes, my chains, my
dungeons... what can't you
escape from? You truly would be... Amazing."
"You're delusional," Amanda huffed.
"Oh, not so," Petra responded. "Of course, I'll always have the
advantage in our contests... the overwhelming
actually... years of experience, vast
financial resources, a trained staff..." She sipped her coffee,
again, then smiled at Amanda. "But if you were to escape! Think about it!
Amanda didn't respond, immediately. In a twisted way, there was something to what the La Roque
bitch had said. It would be
the triumph of a lifetime to
escape from Petra's Tower, but Amanda wasn't playing the game by
choice. "If you want to stage an actual contest," she suggested,
"maybe we can agree to some rules; but first, you have to let Gloria
and Chessy go."
"I get to keep Fiona?" Petra asked.
Amanda sighed. "So, you do have
Fiona." Petra nodded.
Amanda sighed, again, and continued. "Let them go, all of them,
and you can do
what you want with me."
Petra laughed. "To state the obvious, I can do what I want with
you... now. Besides,
missing the sublime truth." She paused
while Keira refilled her cup, then sipped her coffee. "This is the ultimate test.
Any element of choice, at least on your
will diminish the value of the prize. You're my involuntary prisoner," she
continued, "as are the others, and there won't be any
Like some perverse chemical reaction, Amanda's simmering anger
soul-numbing despair. It was true. It was all true.
They were Petra La Roque's captive playthings—and unless Amanda, unless
one of them, pulled off the
impossible—they would remain her
captive playthings. Amanda struggled to control her growing
as she had struggled to keep a lid on her anger.
Petra seemed to see something in Amanda's eyes. Her smile faded,
and her expression became one of... sympathy? "Oh, Pretty Pussy,"
she cooed, "be brave. You won't be harmed. I take good care of my
employees." She smiled at Keira. "Isn't that right,
The masked (and gagged) redhead couldn't answer, of course. She
plate of pastries and offered it to her mistress.
Petra selected a flaky turnover, then shifted her gaze back to
Amanda. "I promise you, Amanda, none of you will be harmed, and I
will set you free, eventually... after I've given you sufficient
opportunity to entertain me with your professional skills." She
took a delicate bite from the pastry, chewed, and swallowed. "A
curious contest, is it not? Like something from a kung-fu
with two masters of their respective disciplines, locked in combat;
only, to the outside observer... nothing is happening.
is as much in the mind as in the playrooms of my Tower. Ropes,
cord, chains, leather—move—counter move.
Will I make a mistake? Will you see
mistake? Will your skill and knowledge be sufficient to exploit
opening? And while we wait for all to happen... stillness... like snow falling
on a garden."
Amanda snorted in disgust. "Yeah, things are pretty
damn still after you've strapped me in several layers of tight
leather, or lashed me into a hogtie with a hundred yards of rope.
This 'contest' is unbalanced to the point of not being a contest."
Petra laughed. "You may very well be right. In fact, you're
almost certainly right, and you're almost certainly going to lose, like
all the other Special Apparel
before you. But, in the meanwhile..." Her smile turned
disturbingly evil. "I'll just have to content myself with binding
and playing with that perfect body... while your salary accumulates in
one of my banking institutions, slowly accruing interest."
Amanda stared at her captor, but said nothing. Again, there was
she could think of to say.
"Keira," Petra said. "Fetch my summary notebook for Project
The red haired maid gracefully rose to her bare, shackled feet, turned,
Amanda watched the little maid depart. This morning, the maid's
belts were missing, and in their place were narrow
loincloths. In Keira's case, an olive, linen band bisected her
nothing to conceal the firm, dimpled, lightly freckled globes.
rattled with a tinkling music as she minced across the threshold.
"Do you wonder why I keep them around?" Petra chuckled.
Amanda turned her head to gaze at Hime. Her loincloth was a
of snow-white silk, and the petite, Japanese maid's body
every bit as attractive as her Celtic companion's.
Petra had said her Precious Pair were in love. Always masked and
in chains, Amanda had seen
nothing to confirm
their mutual affection; but she'd seen nothing to suggest Petra was
lying, either. "She's very beautiful," Amanda said, quietly,
addressing Hime and keeping her voice low, "Keira, I mean. You're
Amanda blushed. "...except for the captivity, of course."
Petra had heard Amanda's remarks. "Oh, Amanda," she laughed, "I
assure you Hime and Keira enjoy their
chains... most of the time, anyway. I do find occasion to punish them...
singly, or as a pair."
Amanda's anger was resurfacing. "Bitch!" she accused, and focused
on Hime's pale, petite body. The maid's pale breasts weren't what
call large, but they were very pleasing in shape.
Hime was still holding a plate of food. She loaded a fork
with eggs, and offered it to Amanda. Her full-face, Noh mask made it impossible to gage
her expression, and her body language was equally inscrutable.
Amanda accepted the eggs, chewed, and swallowed.
The door opened, and Keira reentered the room. In her hands was a
bulging, three-ring binder, bound in brown leather.
Petra accepted the binder, and her smile broadened. She held it
so Amanda could read the bold, tall letters of the title
page. "Project Gwendoline."
are three phases," Petra lectured. "Phase one is the development
of a theater complex, attached to a new hotel-casino to be
built in Las Vegas. It will host magic and escape acts,
exclusively." She leafed through the first section of the binder,
and Amanda could see neatly printed diagrams and text, with many
handwritten notes scrawled in the margins and Post-it notes stuck to
several of the pages. "It will include specialized workshops, to
fabricate props, as well as subterranean 'rehearsal space'."
winked. "The basement chambers will all be behind guarded, secret
doors, for... security purposes."
Amanda scowled at her captor. "And I care because..."
Petra laughed. "Because this would be that home base you dreamed of, only
fully staffed and built with the abundant resources required to do
things first class!"
She flipped to the next section. "Phase two
is a resort-destination in the Caribbean. I've purchased a
suitable island, and will build a, shall we say, specialized facility. The
and club complex will be mainly beach bungalows, and there will be the
usual five-star restaurants, casino gambling, beach sports, snorkeling
diving, sailing..." She started turning pages. "...and then
there are the 'Special Venues' like... the Pirate Castle, with fully
functional dungeons and torture chambers... the Mad Scientist's Lair,
indoor and outdoor zoo cages, and an operating theater and lab... and
Native Village. It will have a wall built across a narrow valley,
with a platform suitable for virgin sacrifice ceremonies. Think
of it—a luau-type meal, at
sunset, with the guests being entertained by
'Native' dancers. One of the guests is chosen, seemingly at
random. She's hauled up the steps and bound between two stone
pillars, a huge, audioanimatronic monster appears, and—"
"You pay huge royalties to whoever currently owns the rights to King Kong," Amanda sneered.
Petra smiled. "We may add a Pirate Ship, with regular cruises
between the island and the usual tourist ports, but only after the
complex is on its feet."
"You think you can run a bondage
theme park, and get away with it?" Amanda asked, shaking her
"It would be a cross between an adult resort, and an entertainment
"Sandals meets a kinky version
of Disneyland?" Amanda
"Ninety-nine percent of the guests would enjoy a pleasant, slightly naughty vacation,
frolicking in the surf, basking in the sun, and
watching the staff reenact the occasional
classic fantasy situation," Petra explained. "A small
number of special guests, on the other hand, would book very expensive, very special vacations. For
She turned to an illustration of the Mad Scientist's Lab. "A
wealthy executive brings his girlfriend to the island. She's
abducted from their bungalow, taken to the lab, strapped down, and
surgically modified—by which I mean drugged to a dazed state and
dressed in an elaborate costume, of course. She awakens to find
herself turned into a human/animal hybrid of some sort, and locked in
one of the display cages in the zoo. The regular guests would troop by,
making sympathetic and/or humiliating remarks, assuming she's one of
the paid staff, like the 'animals' in the other cages." Petra's
smile turns evil. "The only problem, of course, is that she isn't a member of the staff, and
she's gagged, so she can't call for help or explain her situation."
"That's sick," Amanda huffed, shuddering in revulsion (and carefully
ignoring the shiver of arousal rippling through her sex).
Petra laughed. "Oh, the sick part
would be after dark. She'd be hauled into one of the 'breeding
stalls', restrained in one of the special frames, and her boyfriend
would appear... for a little fun. At the conclusion of the
vacation, in her presence, he'd sell her to the resort, letting her
watch as they hand him a large bundle of bills. She'd be released
a few hours later, of course."
"Sick", Amanda reiterated.
"There is the rescue
option," Petra shrugged. "I imagine some guests will prefer to play
James Bond or Indiana Jones, rather than the Degenerate Cad." She
began turning the pages. "There are other scenarios, of course,
like... the Viceroy's daughter captured by pirates... the lady explorer
captured by hostile natives... the lady shipwrecked on a desert
etc. ...all with numerous variations and permutations, of course."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Wait, there's still Phase Three," Petra said, and flipped the next
divider. "The Pressfield-Golden College of Escapology!
There would be a campus in Vegas, and another on the island, and it
would have professional and academic ties to the UNLV Colleges of Fine
Arts and Engineering. Isn't that exciting?"
"And you expect me to participate," Amanda scoffed, "after all that
Petra smiled, sweetly. "Oh, Ms. Pressfield, this is a business offer, and has nothing to
do with our current contests. Consider this the light at the end
of your personal tunnel, something for the future, after I grow tired
of your current employment... or after you escape, of course."
Amanda opened her mouth to tell Petra La Roque exactly what she could do
with 'Project Gwendoline'—then froze.
Petra noticed Amanda's change of expression. "What is it, Pretty
Amanda blinked, then carefully reasserted her previous scowl.
"Nothing. I'm thinking." Amanda had noticed something very
interesting: a few of the notes attached to various of the notebook's
pages were not self-adhesive
Post-it's, but were regular slips of paper held in place by—steel paper clips! "There
would be... lucrative salaries, for myself, Chessy, Gloria, and Fiona?"
Petra smiled. "Very
lucrative. Full senior executive compensation packages, in fact."
Amanda focused on Hime, and the maid fed her the last forkful of eggs
from the plate. She slowly chewed, deciding how to play her
hand. It wouldn't do to seem too anxious. Finally, she
swallowed. "I'll think about it," she said. "Let
me study the plans, in detail."
"I'm afraid I have other plans
for you, today," Petra purred.
"Then tonight," Amanda responded. "I can read the notebook
tonight, in my cell.'
"Hmm..." Petra sipped her coffee, her eyes locked with
Amanda's. "Very well," she said, finally, "I'll instruct my staff
to leave your lights on."
Amanda carefully stifled a smile. Better and better, she mused.
"Okay... but I'm not
"Excellent!" Petra exclaimed, clapping her hands. She gestured
towards the cart, and the maids started gathering and stowing the
remnants of the meal. "Keira, make sure my notebook is waiting
in Ms. Pressfield's suite, tonight." Meanwhile, she had retrieved
Amanda's ball-gag, and was preparing to put it to use.
Amanda struggled against her bonds, in frustration. "What are you
"We'll dispense with the muzzle, I think," Petra said, buckling the
gag's strap and straightening Amanda's hair. "There..."
She stood and smiled down at Amanda, hands on hips. "Now, as this
is a rest day, Pretty Pussy, you get to catnap in your nice, fluffy,
soft bed, all day."
Keira and Hime had departed with the cart and the notebook.
Amanda watched as Petra walked to the door and pressed a button on a
small panel. The drapes across the room began to open.
"Ms. Golden, on the other hand," Petra said, "is not having a rest day."
The drapes continued to open—and Amanda's eyes
popped wide in alarm.
area beyond the drapes effectively doubled the size of the room, and
the center of the new space—in
the center with respect to all three
dimensions—was Chessy Golden!
She was nude, but for many, many yards
of what looked to be half-inch
hemp rope. Her pose was that of a person in free fall, with her
left leg extended and her right leg bent at the knee. She was
stomach down, with her arms folded behind her back and her torso and
head slightly raised.
The bondage was as elaborate and artistic as anything Amanda had ever
seen. The basic shinju and
kikkou techniques were at
the core, but the captive was restrained with a blend of the two. Neat,
multiple bands of rope encircled and pressed the flesh of her arms,
torso, and legs at numerous locations; but the hemp strands flowed between the tight bands and
the diamond pattern
trapping her body, head, and limbs, as well as the
suspending ropes, merging
it all into one complex web.
Amanda counted at least sixteen suspension points. They stretched
multiple, taut strands from Chessy's body to rings embedded in the
walls, and floor. The majority of the ropes provided
gravitational support, a few served to
introduce tension by preventing Chessy from swinging or flexing her
bound body and
some seemed to perform both functions at once.
The distance was too great for Amanda to trace the path of every
strand, but she could see that Chessy's fingers, hands, feet, and toes
were included in her bondage, as were her head and hair. Her
cranium was caged in hemp, anchoring a thick bit of rope coils in her
mouth, and stretching her single, long, red braid to its full length.
The mostly symmetrical bonds combined with the asymmetrical pose in a
pleasing and challenging manner—challenging for
Chessy, of course, but also for Amanda, as the audience. The
grace of her fellow captive's pose, the skill with which her bonds had
been applied, the combination of her firm, smooth, freckled skin and
the implacable turns and hitches of twisted hemp—Chessy was a work of
Amanda was horrified (...and
Petra was dressing, off to the side, near a small, mobile, elevating
platform. No doubt it was what she had used to make her
adjustments to the many suspending ropes, once she had Chessy hanging
in the air. After buttoning a white silk blouse, she donned a
short skirt of ivory linen, shrugged into a matching jacket, and
stepped into a pair of beige heels.
Dressed for business, Petra strolled to the center of Chessy's half of
the room, and smiled up at the helpless redhead. "Like a fly in
amber, isn't she?" she purred, then reached up and caressed Chessy's
right breast. "I have something similar planned for you, Amanda,"
she said, "but not right away. The composition is still
gelling. My muse will tell me when the time is right."
She gave Chessy's breast a final, gentle squeeze, then walked over to
gaze down at Amanda. "Well," she said, "I've wasted enough of the
workday." She looked back at Chessy and her expression turned
thoughtful. "Hmm... a shared suspension—bound
together in an
intimate pose—limbs entwined in a
common web of tight hemp—breast-against-breast
and stomach-against-stomach—your fair skin
pressed against Chessy's peachy, freckled skin—mouths held together
in an involuntary kiss—raven tresses
braided with copper-red curls... hmm... Something to think
about." She turned and strolled to the door. "So many
She crossed the threshold, the door closed, and Petra was gone.
Amanda turned her gaze back to the horrific (and erotic) sight of her
incredibly helpless friend. Sorry
Chester, she thought, then pulled on her wrist cuffs and kicked
her shackled feet in frustration. All this accomplished was the
rattling of her chains and the tinkling of her collar bell. Evil witch!
didn't try to communicate with her fellow prisoner. Not only
would it be a futile exercise, but she could tell that Chessy had
already achieved "resting trance", the same state Amanda had used
yesterday, to help her endure Petra's elaborate 550-cord hogtie back in
the blonde bitch's office. It wouldn't do to disturb Chessy's'
Amanda snuggled against the pet bed's soft fleece, settling in to pass
the day, shepherding her strength for the night ahead. She
suppressed her anger (as well as her arousal
at the sight of Chessy's pinioned, shibari-bound body). She
cleared her mind... and a single object filled her consciousness, as if
And that object was... ...a steel paper clip.