On her tenth birthday,
Michelle Clarke flipped her long, bright red curls from
her face, set her pouting lips, and solemnly announced to the
world that henceforth and forever more she would be known as "Mikki"
Clarke ("with two 'i's and two 'k's"). She also began
dotting the "i"s in her name with cute little hearts ("♥"), but only in her name, because
dotting all her lowercase "i"s with hearts would be "mental."
Anyway, the hearts lasted until the middle of her freshman year
in high school, at which time she decided to put girlish things
behind her (like "gag-me-with-a-spoon-cutsie-little-hearts"),
thus proving to the entire world that she was a fully
mature adult and should be treated as such.
Mikki wanted to be a writer, and that being the case, kept a
personal journal and filled notebook after notebook with story
ideas and drafts. Her English teachers were impressed with
her imagination and rapidly blooming language skills and she got
excellent grades. Also, Mikki regularly published short
stories in her high school newspaper (The Timberwolf Howl)
and the school's Literary Journal (Paw Prints).
Mikki's future was bright.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck in her sophomore year when both of
Mikki's parents were killed by a drunk driver in a terrible
accident. To say the least, Mikki was devastated, but her
friends and the rest of the community provided the necessary
support and she discovered she was made of sterner stuff than
she had previously suspected. She was adopted by two of
her parent's close friends (who Mikki had always liked and
quickly grew to love). Luckily, they lived only a couple
of blocks away from her old house, so she didn't have to change
schools. It took a while, but eventually, Mikki's life
settled into a new normal.
Mikki's parents had provided for her higher education, and with
her grades and recommendations, getting into Lewis & Clark
University was a snap!
All freshmen at Lewis & Clark are required to either live in
the dorms or commute from home, and in its cybernetic wisdom,
the computer in the Campus Housing Office paired Mikki with an
instant new friend who, in a matter of only a few weeks, became
her Best Friend Forever. (Truth be told, the roommates'
circle of other friends considered them to be a bit of
an odd couple, but the inexplicable bond was forged,
The BFF in question was one Elke Björkqvist, a stunning blonde
of Swedish extraction from out of state. She was 5' 9",
and therefore "tall." (Mikki was 5' 6", so of course Elke
was officially designated as "tall." There was never any
As for the diaresis or umlaut (omljud in Swedish) over
the letter "o" in her last name, Elke used it only when writing
her name by hand, never when typing it on a keyboard. She
knew the correct keystroke (Alt+0246), of course, and had since
well before the time she first started getting excited
about algebra (which was about the same time "Michelle" had
announced to the world that she was "Mikki"), but Elke realized
it would be pretentious and quite possibly irritating if she
used the "ö" all the time. It was one thing to
celebrate one's Swedish heritage (half-Swedish/half-German,
actually), but being a total and complete dweeb about it was
something else. "It would be like capping your lowercase
'i's with little hearts," she explained to Mikki. That was
soon after they'd exchanged the complete stories of their
childhoods, and it may have been at that precise moment that the
friends became BFF's. Mikki really appreciated a good dig.
As for the stunning part, Elke was gorgeous. The
problem was, she either didn't know it or didn't care. Her
long, fine blond hair, symmetrical, girlish features, and
stunning blue eyes turned heads, but Elke habitually dressed
rather plainly and insisted on wearing glasses that she just barely
needed. In fact, Elke made it her habit to walk around
campus in a plain white blouse and black skirt, unconsciously
presenting the aspect of the stereotypical "schoolgirl in
uniform." It was a fashion scandal!
Mikki, being the gorgeously beautiful but not at all conceited
red-haired goddess that she was, tried to help.
On more than one occasion she selflessly offered to use
her superb style acumen to give her BFF a complete make over,
but Elke always smiled her full-cheeked smile and politely
declined. (Actually, Elke's "Nerd Outfits," as Mikki put
it, were clever camouflage. They allowed her to glide
between classes undetected and undisturbed by the campus
Lotharios. That was how Elke saw it,
anyway. Also, not caring about her wardrobe made dressing
herself a lot cheaper and easier.)
Unlike clothing, however, there was something Elke very
much cared about, and that was numbers.
Elke was a Math major, and she was good at it... even for a Math
major. While Mikki chalked up good grades in general and especially
in English Literature and Creative Writing, Elke did the
same in Math. By her senior year, Elke was taking
graduate-level courses and still doing well.
Numbers were her passion, as well as her hobby.
Mikki filled notebooks with stories. Elke filled them with
And speaking of hobbies, in addition to her writing, Mikki
indulged in another casual pastime: "Bondage Meditation."
That is, Mikki liked to tie herself up... for relaxation
purposes, of course, as well as for literary research and
inspiration. The "Damsel-in-Distress" might be an overused
literary cliché, but another word for cliché is classic.
Mikki wasn't fanatical about it, of course, only indulging in
the practice now and again, and she was never all that elaborate
with her, uh, arrangements. A couple of turns of soft
cotton clothesline around her ankles, maybe a few around her
knees, maybe even a few around her upper arms and above
and below the ol' boobs, then all that was required was to
wiggle her wrists into a few snug loops of rope secured with a
simple hitch, pull out the slack and rely on friction to play
the role of the knot-tying villain, and voilà, helpless
And as for gagging herself, Mikki never gagged
herself. What if she damaged the corners of her unarguably
gorgeous mouth? Or, heavens forbid, bruised her
full, lucious, bee-stung lips? Mikki's full, luscious,
bee-stung lips were arguably her best feature!
Finally, Mikki was very careful not to ever get
caught, always restraining herself under the covers of
her bed and only if Elke was elsewhere, at a study group or
furiously tapping a keyboard at the campus Undergraduate Math
Lab (with its supercharged computers and advanced modeling
software). Either that or at night, after Elke was
asleep. What could possibly go wrong?
What could go wrong, of course, was that with two BFFs first
sharing a tiny dorm room and later a slightly less tiny two
bedroom off campus apartment, Elke stumbling in on Mikki in the
act of tying or untying herself was semi-inevitable. In
fact, it was virtually a sure thing... and it happened.
Mikki was mortified. Elke was amused. Eventually,
Mikki got over it. Also eventually, Elke offered to help
(just out of curiosity, of course).
So, from that point forward, whenever Mikki was in the mood for
"literary research" and Elke was available, a cruel, blond,
super-villainess tied up poor, innocent, brave Mikki!
Actually, Mikki still did most of the tying. Elke's
contribution was tying Mikki's wrists, usually behind her back,
'cause that's the way it was almost always done on movies and
The only problem was that for someone who'd aced a very challenging
Introduction to Topology course, Elke proved to be
unexpectedly lousy at knot tying. Almost always,
Mikki managed to wiggle, squirm, and/or grope her way out of her
BFF's handiwork. Elke was devastated. Of all the
things to suck at, tying up Mikki? It was depressing.
Mikki wouldn't have it and decided to take tying her hands into
her own hands (so to speak). She bravely ventured
to a "specialty store" a few blocks from campus where she
purchased a pair of furry police handcuffs (and by "furry" Mikki
meant the handcuffs, not the police). They were
shiny steel ratcheting cuffs separated by three links and padded
with pink fake-fur (for Mikki's struggling comfort). Truth
be told, they were more toys than actual restraints, but were
secure enough for, uh, literary research purposes. Anyway,
once Elke ratcheted them closed around Mikki's wrists, she was
truly and for real helpless.
Oh the drama!
Mikki's continuing (once a week) experiments usually happened at
bedtime, meaning Mikki tied herself up with the cotton rope,
Elke secured the pink cuffs, and Mikki was "free" to explore her
situation until dawn. Mikki was usually dressed in her
preferred pajama substitute: panties and either a tank-top or a
French t-shirt (with no bra). Elke would drape the top
sheet and blanket over her helpless victim's helpless body, wish
her a pleasant evening of struggling and writhing, then turn out
the lights and close her bedroom door.
Oh the drama!
Mikki discovered that being a Damsel-in-Distress sometimes leads
to... tension relief (if she worked at it hard enough).
Anyway, it was Mikki's thing, not Elke's, although it continued
to gnaw away at Elke's ego that she was such a lousy villainess
that her kidnap victim had to supply her with handcuffs for her
evil plan to work. It was embarrassing.
Anyway, academic year followed academic year, course followed
course, and eventually... graduation loomed and Senior Panic
reared its ugly head. The future was fast approaching!
Mikki's plan was to find a way to support herself while she
continued writing, then find a publisher and become a
bestselling world famous literary star. Okay, it was an
aspiration and not a plan, but at least she could implement the
"support herself" part of her agenda, right? Actually, she
had to. She would burn through her parents' legacy in
about two years if she didn't find employment in the next
several months. Mikki needed some kind of "day job."
As for Elke, her parents were generous, but putting her through
graduate school so she could continue seducing the Math God was
out of the question. They couldn't afford it. Elke also
needed a day job so she could save enough to return to
school. She had the grades but not the cash, and the only
scholarships she could come up with were paltry. She could
apply for a student loan, but the schools she had in mind didn't
come cheap, and she loathed the idea of spending the first half
her life deeply in debt. Would she have to find a job
doing applied mathematics? It was depressing, but
there it was.
And then, on a sunny day in early April, Mikki received a very
nice letter from Abby Clarke, her distant cousin who lived in
the eastern, more arid part of the state. Mikki had met
her "Cousin Abby" only once, when she was something like
five. The details were sketchy, but she remembered Abby as
a towering giant (like all adults) with red hair (like her
mother and Mikki herself), and with a nice smile. In later
years, her mother shared that Abby was wealthy, something of a
recluse, and lived in a huge house on the eastern slope of a
very nice mountain. And apparently, she was "eccentric,"
but in what way was never explained. Mikki sensed that
somehow, in some way, her mother disapproved of her rich
cousin. Anyway, the cousin in question was inviting Mikki
for a visit and asking that she give her a call to discuss the
Mikki did call and had a very nice chat with her
more-or-less unknown relative. Mikki had no idea what the
fuss was about, why her mother had seemed to imply that
maybe their Cousin Abby was... a little off?
Anyway, Abby painted a very inviting picture of the
hiking and other outdoor activities that would be available and
Mikki accepted her offer of a post-graduation visit of one full
month. And then, Mikki had a brainstorm and asked if she
could bring along a friend, her roommate Elke. She must
have done a good job of selling her BFF's attributes, 'cause
Abby accepted! It was a done deal (almost)!
Elke was skeptical. "Thirty days on a mountainside in the
middle of godforsaken nowhere with your elderly cousin?
Are you nuts?"
"It'll be fun!" Mikki countered. "And it's not
like we have anywhere else to be. We can worry about jobs
there just as well as here. Also, Abby is
forty-something, not 'elderly,' and her place is a palatial
mansion!" She opened her iPhone and showed Elke the
relevant e-mailed photos. Abby was an undeniably beautiful
redhead and not elderly. Also her place was
Modern in style and looked nice, although it was built
on an arid mountainside. Whether or not the mountain in
question was "godforsaken" remained an open question.
Elke remained skeptical. "Palatial?"
Mikki grinned and shrugged. "Well, I don't know if Abby's
digs are actually, palatial, but ya gotta admit the
place looks nice. And she's rich! Palatial is a definite
Elke paused to clean her glasses with a handkerchief, something
she often did when confronted with one of her BFF's cockamamie
proposals. "But why do you have to drag me along?"
she muttered. "Anyway... I can't abandon my parents.
They're looking forward to my triumphant homecoming. And I
need to continue looking for a job."
"You'll get two whole weeks at home with your folks
after graduation," Mikki noted. "Only then will I
show up and 'drag you along.' And why can't we continue
job-hunting at Abby's palatial mountainside mansion?" She
shook the iPhone still in her hand. "She has Wi-Fi
and the internet."
Elke gazed at her smiling BFF with the same skepticism... than
heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Okay. I'll tell my
Mikki squealed with glee and hugged her BFF. "This is
gonna be great!"
Elke rolled her eyes in patient tolerance. "One can only
Donna Orlando was in her
forties and in excellent physical condition. Her
Italian and French genes had gifted her with brown hair, pale
blue eyes, clear, fair skin, symmetrical, unarguably gorgeous
features, and generous breasts.
At the moment, Donna was naked and lying flat on her back on a
hard wooden table with her arms stretched above her head and her
hands and feet spread about two feet apart. In short, she
was in a stringent spread-eagle and was likely to remain that
way as her wrists and ankles were locked in what amounted to
heavy wooden stocks built into the table. In point of
fact, the "table" was a "rack." The distance between the
stocks was adjustable, thanks to a rack and pinion mechanism on
the rack's underside and controlled by a brass hand-wheel
mounted at the rack's head end. The wrist and ankle
openings had been carefully carved to fit the relevant anatomy
of its hypothetical occupant with admirable precision and were
"comfortably" lined with leather padding.
For Donna, unfortunately, her occupancy of the fiendish device
was anything but hypothetical, and the stocks were set
to stretch her straining, glistening body to just below
the limit of pain.
Also unfortunately, there was more. Donna's nipples were
clamped in the jaws of a pair of steel "clover-clamps" joined by
a thin, strong chain of nested steel links. Also, the
business ends of the insidious fashion accessories were lined
with hard rubber pads bristling with tiny blunt spikes and the
clamp mechanisms were spring loaded, designed to squeeze with
increasing pressure if the connecting chain was stretched, and
it was being stretched.
One end of a long length of tempered, high-carbon steel wire
("piano wire") was clipped to a small ring set in the midpoint
of the clover-clamps' connecting chain, stretched up and through
a pulley set in the ceiling, through a complicated setup of
gears and additional pulleys, then down to a dangling,
cylindrical brass weight of two pounds! Fortunately, the
weight was also being held aloft by a second wire that traveled
through additional pulleys and down to a short strip of stiff
leather tightly (and somewhat desperately) clutched
between Donna's teeth. And as long as she continued biting
down on the strip, her nipples felt only a fraction of the brass
weight's two pounds. It was already enough to stretch her
nipples and breasts, just a little, but she knew that if she let
go of the strip... Eyow!!
To elaborate, if Donna released the leather strip, a subsystem
of the overhead mechanism would trigger, gears would start to
turn, and slowly, over the course of about two minutes, her poor
nipples would be forced to accept the upwards tug of the full
two pounds of the weight, as well as the increased squeezing
of the spring-loaded clover-clamps!
Donna had been stretched on the rack and clutching the strap
between her teeth with grim determination for more than an hour,
with nothing to distract from her predicament. The "Rack
Room," as the space had recently been re-named, was a windowless
chamber with poured concrete walls and a ceiling with exposed
steel "I" beams (convenient for clamping the pulleys and gear
assemblies of nipple-stretching machinery).
One hour. That was the interval Donna's sadistic torturer
usually allowed for her to get used to her current
circumstances, which meant that any second now...
Sure enough, Donna heard the echoing tick, tick, tick of
approaching stiletto heels... and as expected, Abby Clarke, the
evil, sadistic torturer in question, made her Grand
Entrance. By the way, Donna's sadistic torturer, Abby was
also her BFF, legal spouse, and Top to her Bottom (with only the
occasional and rare switch).
Abby, the 40-something, incredibly gorgeous, fair-skinned,
ginger-haired, goddess in question, was dressed to impress in a
sleeveless, V-neck top, skintight leather pants, and high-heeled
knee-boots, all in midnight-black. The smile curling
her red lips and the twinkle in her dark brown eyes were chilling
and sent a ripple of dread (meaning arousal) through Donna's
private parts (which at the moment were anything but private).
Abby was also wearing her "Catwoman Utility Belt," a broad,
stylish, low-slung accessory with a convenient array of leather
pouches and holsters holding a selection of some of Abby's favorite
"Oh my goodness," Abby purred as she strolled to the rack and
smiled down at her beloved victim. "It's stifling in
here. Just look at all that unladylike sweat dripping off
your flushed, stretched body and onto my nice new rack. I
meant to turn the thermostat down after leaving
you here to play, but I must have turned it up by
mistake." She gently settled her right palm onto Donna's
smooth, flat stomach... slowly slid it up to between her
slightly stretched breasts... then down to the top margin of the
dark, luxurious curls of her pubic bush. Its passage was
eased by the sweat in question. "So sorry,
Donna didn't even bother to glare at her beloved
tormentor. The "thermostat routine" was an old joke, one
of "Abby's Greatest Hits."
Abby continued her tactile assessment of the moist slipperiness
of her spouse's tummy. "Your little sister certainly did a
good job with this thing, don't you agree?"
The little sister and rack architect in question was Lilly
Orlando. She had a fully equipped workshop on the grounds
of "The Clarke Compound" and made her living designing and
fabricating, shall we say, specialized furniture and
props for movie studios, "hobbyists," and evil, sadistic
torturers like Abby. The rack in question, Donna's current
bed, had replaced the simple bondage table that previously
occupied the space, and without question, she'd done a bang
up job. The nipples-stretching mechanism overhead
was also her handiwork, but it had been in place for more than
two years and was not new.
"And by the way," Abby continued, "we have good news. The
youngsters have accepted our invitation. Isn't that
Donna blinked and concentrated on maintaining her grip on the
strip between her teeth and ignoring Abby's gliding
"Mikki sent a double selfie of Elke and herself with her
acceptance message," Abby continued. "Just wait 'til you
see it! Mikki has all the best Clarke family
attributes; good looks, red hair, perfect skin, and
pretty brown eyes." Abby struck a smiling pose to
illustrate her point. "And her little friend Elke is a
Nordic knockout and a sexy nerd. They're both adorable,
and look like they'll be a lot of fun."
Donna rolled her eyes. Given the circumstances, it was
just about the only response she found possible. Actually,
Donna was very much all in with "the youngsters" impending
visit, but she wasn't about to give Abby the satisfaction of
knowing that she was happy. Also, at the moment, Donna had
little reason to be happy about anything.
Abby smiled fondly at her lover (and victim). "We're going
to have scads of fun. I'm sure of it, and Lilly
Donna rolled her eyes again. Of course her geeky
little sister agreed. Lilly was always egging Abby on,
suggesting innovative ways to torment her big sister, then
fabricating the required technology. If Donna didn't love
Lilly so much, little sister would have a permanent lock on the
#1 position on her shit list.
"Don't be that way, darling," Abby purred as she resumed her
lambent massage of Donna's flat tummy... then enlarged the range
of her gliding hand to include her lover's inner thighs.
"You know I'm not going to go bat-shit crazy and do something...
precipitous. If Mikki and her little blond friend don't
want to play, we'll all spend a nice, pleasant month basking by
the pool, hiking the local trails, grilling hotdogs and burgers
on the back deck, and shopping in town." Her smile turned
slightly predatory and she began rubbing the edge of her palm
against Donna's labia. "But if they are players...
we'll have a lot of fun."
Donna clenched her eyes tightly closed and shivered
with distress (meaning delight). As if I don't have enough
to do around here, she mused, now I have to keep Her
Craziness from getting carried away. She heaved a
"distressed" sigh and tugged on her bonds—or rather, she thought
about tugging on her bonds. At its current setting,
Lilly's new rack didn't allow much in the way of tugging.
"I know what you're thinking," Abby purred as she continued her
pussy massage, "and you have nothing to be concerned
about. You know that I have vast reservoirs of
Donna kept her eyes closed so she didn't have to roll them
"Now," Abby grinned, "let's play a little game. It's
called... 'Let's See What We Can Do To Make Donna Let Go of the
Donna watched with dread as Abby opened a pouch on her belt and
pulled out one of favorite toys for entertaining and tormenting
her favorite victim. It was a pair of stainless
steel Wartenberg pinwheels, spur-like discs bristling with sharp
needles. The free-spinning discs were mounted side-by-side
and attached to a finger-brace. The pinwheels were useful
for stimulating exposed flesh, and depending on the pressure
with which they were applied, the stimulation in question was on
a spectrum from teasing pricks to stinging pain.
Donna knew that from experience. She begged with
her pale-blue eyes (her mouth being otherwise occupied and
Abby's smile became undeniably predatory as she slid the
insidious instrument onto her right index finger, leaned close,
and applied the twin wheels of torment to her lover's stretched,
deliciously exposed and vulnerable abdomen. It was a
landscape that held no mysteries for the "evil" redhead, but one
she delighted in exploring, nonetheless, including the
delightful little crater that was Donna's bellybutton.
Donna whined around and through the strip of leather still
clutched between her teeth and squirmed, as much as the rack
would allow. They'd played variations of this game before,
and Donna knew that no matter how hard she tried, eventually...
she'd lose. Abby had an undefeated record and always collected
her reward: one or more crashing orgasms extracted from
Donna, her long-suffering victim.
Lilly Orlando smiled and
took a sip of her Campari Orange, then returned the acrylic
tumbler to the side table and resumed watching the delightful
little domestic drama playing out on the screen of her
iPad. Thanks to the tiny camera hidden among the rafters
of the "Rack Room," she had a perfect view of the action.
The camera was one of an entire network of such "security
cameras" scattered throughout the compound. There were
also hidden microphones, so thanks to the wireless earbuds
tucked in her ears, Lilly could hear Abby's every word.
| Lilly Orlando
Abby and Big Sister knew about the surveillance system, of
course, and knew that Lilly periodically eavesdropped on their
playtime. Lilly's voyeurism was tolerated for three
Lilly was relaxing by the pool, reclined on a comfortable lounge
chair, and wearing nothing but a thorough, glistening layer of
sunscreen, a pair of mirrored Ray-Bans, the aforementioned
earbuds, and a wide, decidedly wicked smile.
- Both Abby and her better half recognized the need for
Lilly to verify the proper functioning of her various
- Abby got a charge out of knowing Lilly might be watching
whenever she did something "horrible" to the "Little
Engineer's" beloved sister.
- Lilly being an unconscionable peeping tomboy gave Donna a
valid excuse for taking revenge, which she did on a
The new rack was functioning perfectly, and Abby hadn't
even deployed the "Robo-Stud" machine (yet).
The machine in question was motor-driven and
computer-controlled. Its business end was a thrusting
latex dildo attached to a steel rod (of course) and included a
bracket that cleverly held a wand-style vibrator pressed firmly
against its "customer's" clitoris while still allowing said rod
and dildo to do the required in-and-out thrusting. And
like Lilly's overhead nipple stretching masterpiece, it was not
new. However, Lilly had rather cleverly (if she did
say so herself) designed and fabricated a mounting
bracket/adapter that, with minimal muss and fuss, clamped the
machine to the rack in perfect position between the "customer's"
Lilly took another sip of her cocktail... then settled back to
continue watching Abby and Donna's game. It looked like it
was going to be a long first half... which would be followed by
halftime (a pause for Big Sister to partially recuperate)...
which would be followed by the second half. That would
probably mean either the deployment of Robo-Stud, or a shift in
strategy to tickle torture, another of Abby's favorite
Speaking of which, Lilly had a new toy in development: a Fiendish
Feather Wand! In truth, a great deal of design
wasn't required. The FFW would be a motorized screwdriver
(battery powered with adjustable drive torque), with custom-made
attachments. The screwdriver was already on order, but
Lilly didn't want to start fabricating the attachments until it
arrived. She'd start with a simple mini-feather-duster
comprised of a dozen or so short, fluffy plumes. That
would be easy-peasy. Next would be two or three stiff
quills mounted in a gear assembly that caused them to twirl in
an eccentric, spiral fashion. That one might be
something of a minor challenge, but the mini-duster would be a snap.
In any case, once she saw the finished product, Abby would be thrilled.
Lilly closed the iPad's cover and placed it on the table next to
her cocktail, then plucked out her earbuds and placed them next
to the iPad. Next, she stood and reached for the cloudless
sky, going up on her toes and executing a long, back-arching,
full-body stretch. Lilly figured she might as well take a
swim. After all, the latest episode of The Abby &
Donna Show would still be running when she finished her
laps, and she could always review the recording later to make
sure she hadn't missed any of the juicy parts (so to speak).