|by Van © 2015
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
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.
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
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...
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.
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.
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
"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
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
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
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...
"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
"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
"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
"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
"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.
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
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
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.