by Van © 2015
		Chapter 2

Agatha tried and tried and tried to reach the knot or knots of her wrist bonds, without success.  It was infuriating... but not arousing.  Agatha Schmeling was a self-respecting Girl Detective (pretend) who had been captured by the "bad guys," not some squirmy little tart getting off on playing bondage games.  No siree!  Not on your life!  No way!  No how!

Her wrists were crossed behind her back and lashed together with thin, braided nylon cord, her ankles lashed together with more of the same, and a narrowly folded, knotted, blue and white bandana cleave-gagged her mouth.  Dressed in sneakers, jeans, and an increasingly rumpled cotton blouse, Agatha rolled and writhed on the formerly neatly made bed of Catherine Stirling's second story spare bedroom.  Catherine was (apparently) the head "bad guy" and her blond co-conspirator and/or minion, Karli, had done the dirty deed, the binding and gagging of poor little Agatha.  The last she knew, Finley, Agatha's boss and fellow prisoner (or possibly another co-conspirator), was tied to a chair in the first floor parlor.

Yes, it was all very nefarious, sinister, and reprehensible, but not arousing.  Exciting?  Okay, "exciting" was sufficiently innocuous.  Agatha decided to add it to the list.

Anyway, Agatha's fingers fluttered and groped but failed to find the key knot.  Her wrists remained tightly bound.  She decided to try for her ankle bonds, rolled onto her stomach, lifted her bound feet, bent her knees, and reached for her ankles.  She managed to find the ankle cords with little difficulty, and shortly thereafter, a knot!  Hurray!  She picked at the knot for several seconds without success.  The cord was thin and the knot well-compacted, but finally, it surrendered to her plucking fingers and neatly trimmed nails.  Hurray!  The cord loosened, Agatha kicked her feet, and her ankles were free!

Agatha rolled to the side and off the bed, then stood.  Her wrists were still tied behind her back and she was still cleave-gagged, but progress was progress.  She walked to the bedroom door and examined the lock.  It was Victorian, like the rest of Catherine's mansion.  In fact, the lock was really old-school Victorian and she could see the end of what was probably a skeleton key protruding from the keyhole in the interior cover-plate.

Agatha might be bound and gagged, but she knew just what to do!  She walked to the chest of drawers, did a half turn, and opened the most convenient drawer with her bound hands.  Sure enough, the drawer was lined with a sheet of paper.  It was yellowed with age, but not too badly deteriorated.  She lifted the paper from the drawer, returned to the door, and slid the paper under the door until most of it was in the hallway, directly under the doorknob and lock.  Now all she had to do was persuade the key to leave the lock and fall onto the paper.  She turned her back to the door, tapped the end of the key with one finger and at the same time jiggled and shook the doorknob.  There was enough give in the mechanism to produce a satisfying rattle, and soon she heard a ping, which she took to be (meaning desperately hoped was) the key falling from the keyhole.

The bound and gagged captive knelt and peered under the door, and sure enough—Hurray!—the key was on the paper.  She shuffled to the side and slowly, carefully pulled the paper under the door and back into the bedroom.  The key came with it!  In a flash—granted, a somewhat clumsy and awkward flash—the key was back in the lock, the key and the tumblers turned, and the door was unlocked!  Hurray!

So... hands still tied behind her back?  Yes.  Still cleave-gagged?  Yes.  But her glasses were firmly in place and she was escaping!  Hurray!  Alert for her kidnappers—especially Karli, the blond amazon with the grabby hands and skill with knots—Agatha turned the doorknob, cracked open the door, and eased herself across the threshold and into the hallway.

Okay, my escape is off to a rousing start, Agatha decided.

Obviously, the next order of business was her wrists bonds.  She'd tried untying them without success.  It was time for more drastic measures.  So, where to find something sharp?  The kitchen, obviously, but Karli might be down there brewing more tea for Catherine and her bound and gagged guest, meaning Finley, Catherine's other bound and gagged guest.  And now that Agatha thought about it, Finley made a mighty fine damsel-in-distress, especially when she clinched her fingers, tugged on her wrist ropes, and rolled her green eyes above the strip of tape plastered over her mouth.  Agatha heaved a sigh and tugged on her own wrist ropes, or in her case, wrist cords.

The bathroom, Agatha decided.  There's got to be one around here somewhere, and it will have scissors, razors, etc.  In addition to the door of the Dark Dungeon (spare bedroom) from which Agatha had just escaped, this wing of the second floor hallway had three others.  She opened one and found a linen closet with stacks of neatly folded sheets, blankets, and terrycloth towels.  The towels were a good sign, she supposed.  A bathroom had to be lurking nearby.

The next door led to another bedroom, only this one was quite obviously not a spare.  There were plenty of knick-knacks, books, and personal items, giving it a lived-in look.  On the bedside table were copies of the latest issues of the Dynamite comics John Carter—Warlord of Mars, Dejah of Mars, Red Sonja, and the new Marvel title, Princess Leia.  Hanging on the wall next to the door was a framed copy of the famous Dave Stevens print of the Rocketeer rescuing Betty, his bound and gagged girlfriend.  One entire wall of the bedroom was given over to Ikea shelves cluttered mostly with books, by and large a mix of Science Fiction and Fantasy paperbacks and hardcovers.

Prominent among the books Agatha recognized an eleven-inch painted sculpture of Princess Leia as Jabba the Hutt's prisoner by ARTFX®.  In Agatha's humble opinion, this particular collectable was the best of all the Leia sculptures on the market, and she remembered Karli mentioning that she owned a copy when the tall blonde bought her copy of Princess Leia #1.

The conclusion was obvious.  This is Karli's room.

"Well, look who's on a self-guided tour of my personal library," a familiar voice said with chuckle.

Agatha turned to the open door to find Karli leaning against the frame, a smile on her beautiful face, and what looked to be the length of cord that had formerly bound Agatha's ankles coiled in her right hand.  "Naughty girl," Karli scolded as she strolled towards the escapee.

Agatha's heart was hammering, and she realized she was blinking, nonstop.  Busted.  So much for escaping.  She managed to bring the blinking under control.  Her heart rate?  Not so much.

Karli tucked the coil of cord in her pocket, then lifted Agatha's chin with her right hand and smiled down at the diminutive captive's gagged face.  "Good thing I decided to check on you."  Still holding Agatha's chin, she combed the bespectacled prisoner's short, brown bangs with the fingers of her left hand.  "Adorable," she sighed.  "I don't care what Catherine says.  I'm keeping you.  I'll buy a cage and lock you in my closet if I have to."

Agatha decided to take that as a compliment, rather than a pronouncement of doom.  Obviously, Karli was teasing... obviously.

Karli led Agatha to her neatly made bed and encouraged her to flop down onto the mattress by means of a gentle but sufficiently forceful shove between the petite prisoner's shoulder blades.  "Mrrrk!"  Karli then pulled the cord from her pocket and proceeded to bind Agatha's ankles together, just as she had on the bed in the spare bedroom.  And then—"Mrrpfh?"—Karli picked up Agatha and tossed her over her right shoulder in a fireman's carry, stomach down, head to the rear, and feet to the fore, then strolled through the door.

Agatha refrained from kicking and squirming.  Not only would it be impolite, but she didn't want to go crashing to the floor.  This was unlikely, in any case, as Karli had a steadying hand on Agatha's left thigh.  Agatha assumed she was being taken back to the spare bedroom, but Karli was lugging her in the opposite direction.  There was a pause while her handler opened a door, and then she was being carried up a narrow flight of stairs to what was obviously the mansion's attic, or part of the attic, anyway.

The floor was covered in unfinished plywood and the walls and ceiling in unpainted drywall.  The joints and screw-points had been mudded and sanded, but that was it.  There were vertical wooden support columns at various locations, but everything was unfinished, not fit for human habitation.  However, Karli seemed willing to make an exception in the case of captured Girl Detectives.

The least she could have done is give the place a good sweeping, Agatha groused as Karli heaved her off her shoulder and planted her on her bound feet with her rump, back, and bound arms against one of the posts.

"Stay," Karli ordered, then turned and walked back across the attic.  Hanging from a row of wooden pegs near the stairs were several large coils of white nylon rope.  The grinning blonde selected a coil and returned to Agatha and the column.

Agatha considered trying to hop away, but that would obviously be an even more abbreviated and futile excursion than The Great Bedroom Escape.  She heaved a sigh as Karli shook out the coil of rope, doubled it and found the center, formed a loop around her waist and the column, and pulled out the slack.  Over the course of the next few minutes and using a total of three coils of rope, Karli lashed Agatha to the column.

Agatha was impressed.  Horizontal, vertical, and lateral bands of rope crisscrossed and bound her body from shoulders to ankles.  Everything was cinched and linked into a symmetrical web.  Obviously, Karli knew her way around rope and cord.  But why does it have to be me? Agatha sighed.  Why can't she take up macramé or nautical fancy-work?  Why does tying up Agatha Schmeling have to be her hobby?

"All right, then," Karli said as she double-cinched the final knot.  "Let's see if you can wiggle out of this one."  She strolled to the stairs, smiled, and descended.

Agatha heard the door at the bottom of the steps open... close... and that was that.  The only electric lights in the attic were three bare bulbs dangling from overhead fixtures, and they were all off; however, light was filtering through the closed shutters of a couple of attic windows, and it was more than enough for Agatha to see the whole-lot-of-nothing that was Catherine Stirling's attic.

I should have agreed to the spanking, Agatha thought.  I'd already be out of here and on my way to enlist Chibi's help in begging Finley not to fire me.  Instead...

Agatha found she could barely squirm.  Despite her best efforts, each and every band of rope remained exactly where Karli had placed them, making her almost as immobile as the post.  To the best of her recollection, Nancy Drew and her chums had never had to deal with anything this elaborate.  Agatha was pretty sure she'd be here until Karli returned.  Okay, she was entirely sure.

Hours passed.

Actually, Agatha languished in the attic only a little more than two hours.  It had been just after noon when she made the fateful decision to follow Finley to her secret (at the time) book club rendezvous at Sinister Stirling Mansion, and when you add up the time it took for her capture at the grabby hands of Karli, her confrontation with Catherine and Finley, her first interval of languishing in the spare bedroom, her semi-escape to Karli's bedroom and subsequent recapture, and now the time spent getting to know the attic... most of the day was shot.  The light in the attic was actually increasing as the sun dropped towards the horizon and the angle of the slats of attic window shutters grew evermore favorable to the sun's penetrating rays.

Now and then, Agatha squirmed her body and rolled her shoulders, but not only was she bound by neat bands of rope every few inches from chest to ankles, but the diagonal rope bands yoking her shoulders lashed her back against the support column.  Miniscule slack at any given place was punished by miniscule tightening elsewhere.  Escape-wise, it was pointless.  It wasn't even what you could call comfort motion, but it was something to do.

Finally, Agatha heard the door at the foot of the stairs open and the sound of someone mounting the stairs.  A thrill of dread (or something) rippled down Agatha's spine and through her crotch as Karli's undeniably beautiful face floated into view.  The indirect light gave her smile an eerie quality and she was gorgeous... for a Dastardly Kidnapper, that is.

"Time to get you ready for dinner, Munchkin," Karli chuckled.  She crossed the attic and began untying the three coils of rope lashing Agatha in place.

Agatha stared straight ahead the entire time.  It wasn't the first time she'd been called "Munchkin," and she hated it... just like she hated Karli.  Soon, the ropes were rough coils on the attic floor, Agatha was back over Karli's shoulder in another fireman's carry, and they were descending the stairs.

It turned out getting ready for dinner meant a trip to the elusive second floor bathroom.  Karli planted Agatha's sneakers on the tiled floor and the bespectacled captive watched as the grinning blonde attacked the sneaker's laces, then stood and reached for the front button of her jeans.

Agatha shrieked through her gag, her eyes wide in alarm, and tried to hop back, despite her bound ankles.  "Mrrrrk!"  However, that proved impossible.  Karli already had a firm hold on her jeans' waistband and was worrying the button from its hole.

"Settle down before you fall," Karli chuckled as she unzipped Agatha's jeans, then pulled them down her hips.  She then began unbuttoning Agatha's blouse.  "I don't know what you're so excited about," she purred as she worked her way up the row of buttons.  "You can't very well relieve yourself and take a shower with your clothes on, now can you?"  She untied the cord binding Agatha's ankles, then removed her sneakers and anklets, one by one.

Agatha's heart was hammering again.  She watched as Karli pulled her jeans the rest of the way down, then lifted her feet free of the crumpled denim.  She supposed she could attempt some sort of Heroic Gesture, like planting a swift kick in Karli's smug, gorgeous face.  But... (1) Agatha didn't even feel qualified to cosplay a ninja, and (2) Agatha did need to take a leak.  Her heart was, indeed, tripping like the proverbial hammer, and she was barely managing to keep herself from shivering, but (3) Agatha still wasn't scared.  Go figure.

Karli spun Agatha around and untied her wrists.  This was hardly a surprise.  How else were they going to remove her blouse so she could take a shower?  And that was when it really hit her.  Ya gotta be naked to take a shower!  That was also when she started visibly shivering, just a little.

Agatha didn't resist as Karli lifted the shoulders of her blouse and eased it from her semi-naked body.  Karli draped the blouse over her left arm, did the same with the jeans, then tucked the anklets into Agatha's sneakers and gripped them with her left hand.  She then smiled at Agatha.  "Well?"

Naked but for her bra, panties, glasses, and gag, Agatha blinked at her captor.  Then, with trembling fingers, she unclasped and shrugged out of her bra, handed it over, then pulled down and stepped out of her panties and surrendered them as well.

"I'll take these to the laundry," Karli purred.  Her eyes were drinking in the sight of a naked and highly embarrassed Agatha.  The petite prisoner's right hand was over her crotch and her left arm over her breasts.  It was the best she could do.  "Take your time," Karli told the blushing pixie.  "It's more than an hour 'til dinner.  I'll be back with something for you to wear."

Agatha watched as Karli departed, taking her clothes with her, all her clothes.  The door closed, the key turned in the lock, and Agatha was alone, naked and alone.  She padded to the door, knelt, and watched through the keyhole as Karli walked away down the hallway.  Prudently, given Agatha's history of escape attempts, this time her jailer had taken the key with her.

Agatha heaved a sigh, then padded to the commode, lifted the seat, and sat.  Only then did it dawn on her that she was still gagged.  She reached behind her head, fumbled with the knot until it came apart, then pulled the saliva-dampened knot from her mouth.  She tossed the gag into the washbasin sink as she worked her jaws and licked her lips.  She'd take a drink as soon as she finished relieving herself.

"This is not going like I thought it would," Agatha muttered under her breath.  Not that I ever had anything even resembling an actual plan, she added silently.

Agatha took a long, hot shower, expending dabs of body-wash and shampoo, then drying herself with a large, fluffy towel.  She then used a blow-dryer and brush and comb set to deal with her hair.  Restoring her coif wasn't much of a challenge.  One of the things Agatha liked best about short hair was the low maintenance.  Finally, she cleaned her glasses.

So... here I am.  The door was locked, so she had no real choice but to wait for Karli's return.  Agatha considered wrapping the towel around herself, but it was damp and might feel clammy.  The bathroom had a heat lamp set in the ceiling and it was on, so she wasn't worried about getting cold... for now.

More to fill the time than anything else she searched the bathroom for a means of escape.  She found a plastic safety razor and a can of shaving cream, various cleaning supplies, a toilet brush (yuk) and that was about it.  She could try spritzing bathroom cleaner in Karli's eyes so she could slip past and make a run for it, but decided that was not only mean, but also iffy.  She'd have to successfully and temporarily blind Karli in the first attempt, evade her groping hands in the confined space, and then find her clothes.  Yes, it was iffy, also mean.  Truth be told, it was the meanness aspect that nixed the plan.  As kidnappers went, Karli was pretty nice, and while Agatha was an actual prisoner, she wasn't scared.  She could tell this was a game.  She didn't yet know all the rules, but it was a game.

Finally, the key rattled in the door, the door opened, and Karli stood in the threshold, smiling her usual gorgeous smile.  Agatha faced the door in full modesty-mode, right hand over her crotch, left arm over her breasts, and cheeks blushing.

"I'm afraid we don't have much in your size," Karli said as she tossed Agatha a folded terrycloth towel.  "Actually," she chuckled, "we have nothing in your size."

Actually, the towel wasn't a towel.  It was a "beach wrap" intended to be wrapped around the torso like a towel, and was usually worn over a wet bathing suit.  It closed with a small patch of Velcro and a button and loop.

"I can't wear this," Agatha objected.  "I'll look... silly."

"Not as silly as you'd look in the nude," Karli purred, "although, personally, I'd have no objections.  Anyway, tonight's dinner party will be very casual."

Agatha's blush intensified, but she managed to wrap the white cloth around her torso and engage the button.  It covered her from armpit to armpit, leaving her shoulders bare, and she was showing a little cleavage.  On whoever owned the thing, Catherine or Karli—and Agatha's money was on Catherine—the lower hem probably came to her upper thighs, barely covering her swimsuit bottom.  On Agatha, the wrap almost reached her knees.

"That'll do," Karli said with a smile, then turned Agatha around, pulled her hands behind her back, and folded her arms forearm to forearm with each hand cupping its opposite elbow.  She then began wrapping Agatha's fingers, hands, and forearms with a roll of some sort of woven, elastic bandage.

"Do you have to do that?" Agatha whined.  "I've been tied up all day."

"Yes, you have," Karli chuckled, "first at work, and now here."

"What is that stuff?" Agatha pouted.

"Vet-wrap," Karli explained, "non-adhesive compression bandage.  At first I thought I'd go with neon pink, but white matches the rest of your ensemble."

"It's too tight," Agatha complained.

"Not as tight as it could be if you don't stop squirming," Karli chuckled.  "Hold still so I get it right.  We don't want to impair your circulation, now do we?"

"No, we don't," Agatha huffed.

By the time Karli was finished, Agatha's lower arms were mummified from elbow to elbow and her fingers hands, and wrists were completely covered.  Agatha gave her arms a twist and tugged on her new bonds, but could tell she was just as helpless as she'd been with her wrists bound with cord; even more helpless, as her fingers were now completely wrapped and immobilized.

"You're a big ol' meanie," Agatha complained.  "Hey!"  Karli had taken hold of her shoulders and spun her around, and now the grinning blonde was stripping six inches of wide, white medical tape from a roll and using a pair of bandage scissors to snip it free.  It was obvious what was coming.  "Nooooo," Agatha whined, but she put her lips together so Karli could plaster her lower face with the strip and smooth it with her fingers.

"This is Elastoplast," Karli lectured, "my favorite tape for gags.  I love the way I can see the shape of your lips in full, three dimensional detail."

Elastoplast, Agatha fumed, staring daggers through her glasses at her smug, gorgeous captor.  I'll remember the brand name so I can buy a case of the stuff and wrap you from head to toe.

And with that, they were out of the bathroom door and headed down the hallway for the stairs.

Karli and Agatha's destination was Catherine's dining room, and Agatha was in for a surprise.  It wasn't the dining room or its decor.  Both were like the rest of the Mansion: Victorian, but without being stuffy or oppressively overboard with period details.  No, the surprise was Finley, specifically, the state of Finley's dress (or lack thereof) and her degree of freedom (or lack thereof).

Finley was dressed in a white, terrycloth beach wrap, exactly like Agatha, and her mouth was covered by a taut strip of Elastoplast, also exactly like Agatha.  She was seated in a straight chair before a semi-formal place setting of Delft-style dinnerware, silver flatware, and elegant crystal, all very Victorian, of course.  Finley's arms were folded behind her back and against the chair back, and Agatha very much suspected her fingers, hands, and forearms were tightly wrapped under overlapping layers of white Vet-wrap, another thing they had in common.  Agatha could see the end of the wrappings at Finley's left elbow.  Also, several neat bands of white nylon rope lashed Finley to her chair, encircling the chair-back and her torso, above and below her breasts.  If there were additional ropes, they were hidden by the table.

Karli planted Agatha in a chair across from Finley, then proceeded to lash her in place with more of the same white rope.  Neat, doubled bands tightened around Agatha's arms and torso, in similar fashion to Finley, and Karli continued down her body, including her waist and lap and binding her crossed ankles to the right chair-leg.  The smiling blonde then pushed Agatha and her chair forward until her tummy almost touched the tablecloth.

Agatha blinked at Finley and the redhead stared back.  Boss and employee were now sisters in costume and bondage.  Agatha couldn't see under the table, of course, but it was a reasonable bet.  Oh-by-the-way, it was very clear that Agatha was not forgiven for following Finley to her book club meeting.  The expression on Finley's tape-gagged face was decidedly cool.

Just then, Catherine entered the dining room from the kitchen, carrying a covered tureen, presumably full of some sort of soup.  Whatever it was, the aroma leaking past the cover was delicious.  The tall, exquisitely beautiful brunette was dressed in a black silk robe, and as far as Agatha could tell, nothing else.  The robe was cinched tight around her wasp-thin waist and did little to disguise her very feminine and athletic curves, but it did give her more coverage than her two guests.

Karli was the only one present fully dressed, wearing the same sneakers, jeans, and blouse she'd worn all day, or at least as long as Agatha had been their prisoner.  "Let me serve," the blonde offered as she settled into the chair next to Agatha.  "I'd hate for you to ruin your favorite robe by dipping your sleeves in the soup."

"This old thing?" Catherine chuckled.  The drooping sleeves of the robe in question would require careful management to keep them out of the food.  "Very well."  She settled into the chair next to Finley, leaned close to the glaring redhead, and peeled the tape from her lips.

Finley continued staring, this time at their hostess.  She licked her lips, then accepted a sip of ice water (with a slice of lemon) from Catherine.  She nodded across the table.  "I thought you were going to send her away?" she asked.

Catherine smiled.  "On an empty stomach?" she purred.  "That would be rude."

"Besides," Karli added, "she doesn't have a thing to wear."  Catherine turned her gaze to Karli, and the blonde shrugged.  "I got busy cooking and was late with the laundry," Karli continued.  "Munchkin's jeans and blouse are tumble-drying now."

"Munchkin," Catherine chuckled.  "Adorable."

Agatha noted that a smile was almost curling Finley's lips, so she decided not to object to the use of the hated appellation.  If it turned into an actual nickname she might revisit the subject by filing a strong, formal objection.

Catherine's smile was still focused on Karli.  "And I suppose you didn't neglect your household duties on purpose," she purred, "so I'd have no choice but to invite our little 'Munchkin' to spend the night?"

Karli's gorgeous face was the very picture of innocence.  "Of course not," she responded.  "Why should I want a sleepover with the little snoop?"

Finley cleared her throat.  "Because she's 'adorable,' remember?"  Her smile was now unmistakable, but it faded quickly as she turned to her employee and fellow prisoner.  "We'll talk at breakfast, Agatha," she said.  "For now, I expect you to say and do nothing that will embarrass me further, do you understand?"

Agatha nodded with great enthusiasm and softly mewled her consent through her tape-gag.  "Mrrrrr."  Actually, she understood very little, but gag aside, now was clearly not the time to discuss what the hell was going on.  Also, she was hungry... and there was also the topic of the impending "sleepover."  What would that entail?

"Now that that's settled..." Catherine purred as she hiked up the sleeves of her robe and lifted the cover of the tureen.

Meanwhile, Karli had peeled the Elastoplast from Agatha's mouth, and Agatha's eyes were on the soup.  (It was better than meeting Finley's disapproving gaze).  It was some sort of chicken and vegetables concoction and she assumed Karli would be feeding her.  Leaning forward and drinking from her bowl with her lips and tongue would be the only other option.  Agatha carefully suppressed a dimpled smirk.  Finley would probably be mortified if Agatha lapped her soup like a dog.  Agatha knew she was already in a world of trouble, and a display of barbaric table manners would hardly make things better, but the mental image was priceless.

Karli spooned soup into Agatha's bowl first, giving her precedence as the junior guest.  She really is very nice, Agatha thought as a second and then a third ladle of golden soup filled her bowl.  Nice for a Dastardly Kidnapper, that is.