| by Van ©2019
FIVE DAYS BEFORE A MUCH ANTICIPATED HOMECOMING
Bethany Roget had
enjoyed her usual breakfast of lightly-buttered toast and
coffee, and now was out on the modest lawn of a small side
garden off her bedroom. The morning sun was still somewhat
low in the sky, so the nearby forest was providing dappled
shade. Given Bethany's fair complexion, that was a good
thing, and was one of the reasons she favored this venue for her
daily tai chi exercises.
She was dressed in black calf-length tights and a blue-gray
sleeveless top with her long, dark hair neatly coiled and pinned
in place atop her head. Her trim, fit, 40-something body
flowed gracefully from pose to pose to pose at a stately
pace. The air was cool, even crisp in the shade, and the
grass under her feet still damp with dew. Her full,
spandex-covered breasts sported the prominent bumps often
referred to as "pokies," and her pale, bare feet were a tad
chilly; however, the rest of her exposed skin was free of
goosebumps. She wasn't actually cold. In fact,
Bethany was savoring the warmth of an inner glow. Her
daughter would be home from college in less than a week!
And she'd be bringing along two of her little friends!
Bethany's lips curled in what an outside observer might
interpret as a sly (or perhaps even sinister) smile.
Amanda Byrne, one of her soon to be visitors, she already
knew. The charming (and subservient) little redhead had
been their guest last summer. As for Penelope Parr, the
other soon-to-be-guest, Gwyn had sent her a "selfie"
taken with her two housemates in front of the townhouse they
shared near the Lewis & Clark campus, and the housemate who
was not Amanda was as cute as the proverbial bug, and
her daughter had stated (meaning strongly hinted) that "Penny"
was into the same sort of, shall we say, "unconventional
diversions" the Roget family (and Amanda) found
entertaining. Bethany would have to carefully discuss the
matter with Gwyneth once they arrived, but the prospect of a
truly entertaining summer looked highly promising.
Tai chi routine complete, Bethany turned and padded
towards the elaborately decorated Gothic Revival turrets and
arches of Roget Manor, the family home. It shone in the
morning sun, as brightly as the patina of mold and lichens
growing on its concrete and limestone exterior would
allow. She entered her bedroom through a set of French
doors, padded across the generous space to her walk-in closet,
and disrobed. First, she pulled the top over her head and
tossed it in a hamper. Next, she tugged the waistband of
the leotard past her hips, peeled it down her legs, stepped
free, and tossed it in the hamper. Bethany hadn't
been wearing panties, so she was now completely nude.
What to wear? Bethany pondered, gazing at the racks of
expensive, custom tailored, designer label clothing. Jeans,
she decided, and that pretty white peasant-blouse with
the embroidered cornflowers. As she turned to a
built-in chest of drawers for panties, she caught a flash of
movement in the triptych of full-length mirrors at the far end
of the closet―"MRRRF!"―then was grabbed from behind, her mouth
covered by a tight hand-gag, and her elbows pinned behind her
Bethany's desperate blue eyes focused on the mirrors, and she
realized her captor was Rada Nørgaard, her tall, fiendishly
strong, and undeniably beautiful personal trainer, housekeeper,
and alleged servant. The six-foot-two amazon was seven
inches taller than her employer and was easily able to
control her prey, even an active, physically fit prey like
A native of Norway, Rada spoke perfect English with only the
slightest hint of a lilting accent (when she chose to speak at
all). Blond (of course) with a lithe body, excellent
muscle tone, flat, sculpted stomach, firm, full breasts, smooth
skin with an over-all tan, and symmetrical, gorgeous face with
ice-blue eyes, Rada was the proverbial Viking shield-maiden,
Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, or Captain of the Norwegian
Bikini Team (the Swedish Bikini Team's arch rivals).
Oh-by-the-way, Rada was wearing what she usually wore when
stalking her employer (and when madam didn't have guests):
Rada's right hand came away from Bethany's mewling mouth and
joined her left to bind her employer's wrists behind her back
with a reusable plastic zip-tie. Vrip!
"Dammit, Rada!" Bethany complained as she continued her
pathetically ineffective and entirely futile struggles.
Rada's lips curled in one of her trademark gorgeous,
infuriatingly superior smiles. "As madam knows full well,
as madam's personal trainer I have full authority to
modify madam's social calendar as I see fit, and you are overdue
for one of our 'special training days'."
"Gwyn will be home in less than a week!" Bethany objected,
tuging on her bound wrists. "I can't greet my daughter and
her little friends covered in rope-marks!"
"Then stop struggling," Rada purred, then gave her employer's
right butt-cheek a punitive slap.
"Ow!" Bethany complained, biting her lower lip. She did,
indeed, stop struggling, but was now in full pout. "What
are you going to do to me?" she whined. It was a
ridiculous question, of course. Bethany knew full well
what Rada was going to do to her. Only the details were at
Rada took a firm grip on the naked, diminutive (relatively)
brunette's left arm and led (dragged) her from the closet and
into the main bedroom.
Continuing to pout, Bethany noted her Personal Trainer had
deposited several neatly bundled coils of black-dyed,
quarter-inch diameter, conditioned hemp rope in the center of
her bedroom before pouncing on her in the closet. She knew
from experience the rope in question was nearly as smooth and
soft as silk, exhibited minimal stretch under tension, and held
a knot very well. It was also quite
expensive. She ought to know, she'd paid for it, as well
as the manor's many other caches of similar rope dyed various
colors and of different diameters.
Rada plunked her employer down on the carpet next to the pile of
rope, selected a coil and prepared it for use, then set to work.
Bethany sighed and stared into the distance as loop after loop
of doubled rope tightened around her. As always, as each
element of her progressively more restrictive bondage was
cinched and knotted, she took careful mental notes. The
● A box-tie pinned Bethany's upper-arms to her
sides, yoked her shoulders, and (after the removal of the
zip-tie) lashed her crossed wrists against her spine with her
forearms folded behind her back and raised past the
horizontal. The box-tie featured the double shoulder
yoke that Rada favored. One pair of strands passed under
one armpit, up and behind her neck, then under the other
armpit, then was cinched at the nape to the nexus or ropes
behind her back. A second pair passed over her right
shoulder, was looped through the horizontal bands framing her
breasts, pulling them into a boob-squeezing "X", then returned
to the back via her left shoulder. Her folded arms might
as well be glued to her torso.
"Oooh!" Bethany complained as she squirmed and tested her
bonds. As usual―as always when Rada was the one
doing the tying―Bethany could tell immediately that she
wasn't going to be able to escape. The key knots were
strategically placed beyond the reach of her fluttering,
groping, and useless fingers, and she couldn't bend her
legs or bend at the waist without something somewhere getting extremely
tight, especially the knotted crotch-rope. She ceased
struggling, rolled onto her side to glare up at her naked
captor, and her eyes popped wide in alarm. "No!"
● An elaborate "crotch-harness" encircled her waist,
passed between her legs, cleaved her labia and butt-crack
(with added knots), then anchored the box-tie in the back.
● A ladder-tie started at the small of her back and
traveled down her legs. The paired strands were looped
around and cinched between her thighs, lower legs, ankles, and
feet every six inches.
● A length of black cord lashed her big toes
together. This was for no good reason other than general
bitchiness on Rada's part, in Bethany's disgruntled opinion. Everything was
tight, from shoulders to toes, tight enough for the ebony
rope to slightly dimple her fair, pale-pink skin.
"Yes," Rada grinned. Dangling from her right hand was a
ball-gag. It had two straps, both in black leather, a main
strap and a narrower secondary, under-the-chin strap. The
black, two-inch ball was medical silicon. The buckles and
other metal parts were chrome steel.
"No!" Bethany reiterated. "That one's too big!
Rada had ignored her employer's objection, stuffed the "too big"
ball into Bethany's mouth, buckled the main strap at the nape of
her neck―"Mrrrf!"―tight enough to make her cheeks bulge,
then buckled the secondary strap under her chin.
The addition of the gag triggered a second round of futile,
furious, naked struggling.
Rada watched for several long seconds, hands on hips and a truly
evil smile on her gorgeous face... then gave Bethany's left
butt-cheek a slap―"Mrrrf!"―and lifted the bound and
gagged brunette in a fireman's carry, balancing her face down on
her right shoulder, with her head to the rear and her kicking,
toe-bound feet to the front. She then carried her employer
from her bedroom.
Bethany was able to follow their progress through the
manor. They crossed the main entryway, passed various
parlors and sitting rooms, entered the manor's large, lavishly
and expensively equipped home gymnasium, then entered a tiled
space with showers, massage tables, and two side-by-side
hydro-spas. Then, Rada carried her through a cedar door,
into the cedar-lined splendor of the manor's dry sauna, and
deposited her on the upper tier of seats along the back wall.
The air in the sauna was cool, the same temperature as the rest
of the manor. Obviously, the powerful stainless steel
heater, protected by its waist-high cedar railing, wasn't turned
on. The lighting was dim and rather yellow, shining
through a small, head-height window in the door and from four
built-in fixtures with cedar shades, one in each corner.
Rada padded back to the door and paused in the threshold.
"I've decided to take a leisurely swim, followed by a
free-weight session, followed by a round with the bag... then
I'll be joining you. The sauna should be up to the
appropriate temperature well before I return. You
should be nice and pink and sweating like a trussed pig by the
time I give you your first orgasm of the day."
Bethany squirmed and begged with desperate blue eyes as Rada
closed the sauna door. Her blond amazon captor smiled
briefly through the door's small window, then was gone.
There was a brief pause... then Bethany heard the thunk of
the door's wooden bolt sliding home. (Most saunas have no
provision for bolting or locking the door, for obvious safety
reasons. The sauna at Roget Manor was an exception.)
Bethany tested her bonds again, being careful not to get too
enthusiastic and roll herself off the cedar bench. It was
useless. She was helpless. She was very helpless.
Bethany rested her gagged head on the smooth, hard cedar... then
heard a quiet click emanate from somewhere inside the
heater. She shifted her gaze to the a pile igneous rocks
nestled in a stainless steel cradle directly over the heating
elements. As she watched (in resignation) the elements
began to glow... and gradually became a bright orange.
The mistress of Roget Manor was in for a long, hot, sweaty
morning, which would be followed by who-knows-what. As a
"personal trainer," Rada was trained, experienced, and creative,
and the blond giantess could be very cruel when she wanted to
be. Obviously... today... she wanted to be.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
FIVE DAYS LATER
SOMEWHERE ON AN INTERSTATE HIGHWAY
MANY MILES FROM THE LEWIS & CLARK CAMPUS
It was a luxury sedan. Penny didn't know the make or
model, and she emphatically didn't care. Its
backseat was roomy and comfortable, but she still didn't
care. Penny was sick of driving (or more precisely, sick
of riding). She was also sick of watching the
passing trees... barbed-wire enclosed fields... countless black
cows. She was even sick of the occasional herds of pretty
horses. She was also sick of the periodic breaks for
non-Starbucks coffee and sick from stopping for a fast
food lunch at an alleged "town." (Not physically sick, but
mentally sick. Her tummy was just fine.)
"Are we there yet?" Penny demanded.
Gwyn Roget was behind the wheel and Mandy Byrne was the front
seat passenger. The brunette and redhead exchanged an
amused smirk, then Mandy turned to the backseat and smiled at
her fellow passenger. "Almost."
Penny heaved a sigh of truly tragic proportions.
"You said that the last time," she huffed.
Still smiling, Mandy gave the half-unfolded road map in her hand
a rustling shake. "Do you want to be the
Penny pointed to the electronic map scrolling down the small
screen built into the rental car's dashboard. "That's
the navigator," she observed. "You're just waving that map
around to make us think you can read it. How soon?"
"We get there when we get there," Gwyn answered.
Penny heaved another sigh.
"Seriously," Mandy chuckled, then pointed at the screen.
"If you'd been paying attention you'd know that we only have a
little more than eleven miles to go."
"I can barely see the screen from back here," Penny huffed,
"much less read the teeny-tiny text in the margins."
"Boo hoo," Gwyn drawled.
Penny rolled her eyes, then forced a reluctant smile when Mandy
winked. Gwyn was pretty good when she trotted out her
Brooding Goth act, but they both knew better. Gwyn was a
"Now passing through the scenic town of Roget," Mandy announced,
nodding out the window at the collection of gas stations, small
shops, restaurants, offices, etc.
"You own a town?" Penny demanded.
"No, I don't 'own a town'," Gwyn chuckled. "Roget was
founded by my great, great..." (She paused as if mentally
calculating.) "...great grandfather. We just
own the manor and a few hundred acres on the far side of town."
"Oh," Penny said, "just a few hundred acres. In that
case... never mind."
"Don't be modest," Mandy said, smiling at Gwyn. "I believe
you also mentioned a vacation home somewhere in the Caribbean?"
Gwyn shrugged. "It's only a cottage."
"A 'cottage' with fifteen rooms and a private beach," Mandy
purred. "I've seen pictures, remember?"
"Why are we going here," Penny inquired, "and not there?"
Gwyn and exchanged a smile, then Mandy turned to the backseat
and grinned at Penny. "You haven't seen 'here' yet."
Penny heaved a tragic, theatrical sigh. "If we ever get
A few long, boring minutes after leaving the thriving metropolis
of Roget, they approached a twelve-foot chain-link fence
paralleling the highway. In the center was an automatic
gate of vertical iron bars topped by wavy, decorative, wickedly
sharp-looking spikes. Gwyn eased to a stop next to a stone
pedestal with a speaker, call button, and keypad, lowered her
window, and entered a five-digit code. The gate hummed and
rolled aside. Gwyn closed her window, then eased through
the gate and accelerated.
"Keeping out the riff-raff, I see," Penny drawled, looking out
the back window at the closing gate.
"We have excellent relations with the town," Gwyn said, "but as
somebody said, good fences make good neighbors."
"Robert Frost," Penny and Mandy said in unison.
"Exactly," Gwyn nodded. "Anyway... rich people can't be
too careful. Roget Manor has excellent security."
The road gently curved left... then right. They passed
through about a half-mile of mature forest, then emerged on the
edge of a flowering meadow. On the far side was the manor
"Wow," Penny intoned, gazing at the semi-symmetrical,
multi-storied Gothic Revival structure. It had the
expected arched windows, towers, and spires, and was at least as
big as Weathers Hall, the main administration building at Lewis
& Clark. "You don't have vampires in the
family, do you?" she asked Gwyn.
"Only werewolves and mad scientists," Gwyn replied, perfectly
"I asked the same thing last year," Mandy said, smiling at
Penny, "at the start of my first visit to Stately Roget
"No, you asked if I was related to the Addams family," Gwyn
intoned, then glanced at Penny in the rear view mirror.
"The cartoon, not the presidents."
"I got it," Penny answered.
"Anyway," Mandy grinned, "wait 'til you see the inside."
|The Perils of Penny Parr
The girls were
met on the front steps by Gwyn's mother, Bethany, and a towering
woman who, as Gwyn had explained during the interminable trip,
was the manor's sole resident servant, Rada Nørgaard.
Penny could easily see the resemblance between mother and
daughter, in every way except height. Gwyn was 5' 2" and
her mom was something like 5' 7", even taller than Mandy!
Also, she, meaning the mother, had the cutest little
cleft in her chin, and despite her advanced age (forty, pushing
fifty) was just as beautiful as Gwyn. She was wearing
sandals and a really nice sundress (that probably cost more than
everything in Penny's duffle bag in the trunk of the rental
As for the alleged servant... she was tall... tall and stunning,
a veritable giantess. 6' plus, easy. As for the
stunning part, she was blond, with tan skin and an athletic,
very feminine figure, by which Penny meant big boobs, narrow
waist, and flaring hips, the proverbial brick outhouse.
And as for her looks. If he'd known about Rada Nørgaard,
Paris would have ignored Helen and dragged Rada back to
Troy (unless she kicked his butt for making the attempt).
She was wearing sandals, like Mrs. Roget, but Rada's dress was
more a traditional maid's or housekeeper's uniform, albeit a
custom tailored and very pretty maid's or housekeeper's
uniform. It really showcased Rada's toned arms, generous
cleavage, and long legs... but then, Penny thought, she'd
have to be wearing a burka not to showcase her toned
arms, generous cleavage, and long legs.
"My precious little Elf," Bethany sighed as she hugged and
kissed her daughter.
Mandy and Penny exchanged smiles. Gwyn had just gained a
new nickname: Elf. It would have to be used sparingly and
under just the right circumstances, of course.
Mandy was hugged and kissed next. "Welcome back, Amanda,"
"Thank you, Mrs. Roget," Mandy replied.
Bethany turned to Penny. "Oh, aren't you the prettiest
Penny shrugged. "I have been called that," she
quipped. "Ooof!" She'd been pulled into a hug of her
"Rada," Gwyn said, smiling at the blond giantess.
"Valp," Rada replied.
"Huh?" Penny whispered to Mandy, still locked in Mrs. Roget's
Gwyn shifted her still amused gaze to her blond friend.
"Norwegian for 'puppy'," she explained. "Rada and I go way
"What's Norwegian for elf?" Penny asked.
Rada shifted her stunning smile to Penny. "Elf."
"Yes, elf," Penny nodded. "What's Norwegian for elf?"
"Before you two get further into your 'Who's on First' routine,"
Gwyn chuckled, "I believe the Norwegian word for elf... is elf."
"Oh," Penny sighed. "How disappointing."
Rada turned her smile to Mandy. "Fox," she nodded,
greeting the returning visitor.
"Let me guess," Penny said. She'd been released by their
hostess. "Norwegian for 'freckled freak'?"
"Very funny," Mandy chuckled as she bumped Penny with her hip in
retaliation, then smiled up at Rada. Everybody smiled up
Rada turned her radiant, elevated smile to Penny. "Hmm...
this one is a daughter of Loki. I'll have to keep an eye
on you, Penny."
Penny shrugged and smiled (up, of course). She wasn't sure
how to respond. Also, was it her imagination, or had
Mandy's smile―the one she'd directed at the Viking
Giantess―genuine but also just a little... nervous?
Bethany had listened to the girls meeting and greeting Rada with
great amusement. She gestured to the manor's front
door. "Let's get out of the sun," she suggested (ordered).
Gwyn fished the rental car's rubber-clad transponder-key out of
her pocket and tossed it to Rada. "The bags are in the
trunk," she announced. "Chop-chop." She then hurried
after Mandy, Penny, and her mother―"Eeek!―but wasn't quick
enough to dodge the very business like slap Rada
delivered to her rump. As she walked, Gwyn rubbed her butt
and smiled back at her mother's towering, grinning servant.
Rada watched Bethany shepherd the new arrivals up the steps and
through the front door―for all the world like a mother duck with
three ducklings―then climbed behind the wheel of the rental car,
started the engine, and pulled around to the manor's large,
multi-bayed, detached garage. She'd haul the girls'
luggage upstairs, but only after locking the car, then securely
locking the transponder in the steel cabinet with the
transponders and/or keys of all of the manor's other vehicles.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
Roget Manor, Penny was immediately impressed, although she did
manage not to stare in open-mouthed awe. Exactly what
Mandy had meant by "wait 'til you see the inside" was now
crystal clear. Impressed? Penny decided. No,
more like... overwhelmed. The decor was decidedly
Gothic, all dark-stained wood and elaborate carvings. Some
were representational, meaning vines and flowers, depictions of
griffins and other mythical creatures, human figures in
medieval-style costume, and cherubs frozen in the act of
fluttering around the vaulted ceiling. Others were purely
decorative: ornate medallions, complicated running motifs,
etc. Lots of etc.
The floor was multicolored marble tiles in a flowing
pattern. The stairs were polished granite, with a carpet
runner and massive stone banisters. Shafts of sunlight
shone through rosette windows, trying their best (with limited
success) to lift the gloom.
Mrs. Roget offered to show them to their guest bedrooms.
The offer was for Penny, actually, as Mandy was told she'd be
staying in the same room as last year and (obviously) Gwyn knew
the way to her own bedroom.
They made their way up the staircase to the second floor and
Penny noted more paneling and carvings, as well as statues,
usually in black marble, of snarling lions, howling wolves, and
more mythical creatures. There were also the usual
Greco-Roman damsels with bare breasts and clutching at their
minimal costumes, all of which seemed to be about to slither to
At a junction of hallways they passed a striking sculpture of a
life-size Andromeda in white marble. She was nude, leaning
back against a large, rugged, black marble boulder, with her
arms raised, wrists and ankles in shackles, with her beautiful,
tragic face resting on her right shoulder. Apparently, the
Krakken was either late or a no-show.
"That's my great grandmother," Gwyn told Penny as they strolled
"Uh, I can see the family resemblance," Penny said. Okay,
that's impressive, she decided, gazing at the statue.
Mandy peeled off to her bedroom to freshen up and Penny was led
down and across the same hallway to a massive carved door.
Actually, all the doors Penny had seen thus far were massive and
carved. They were all different, and she was sure she's be
able to tell her massive carved door from the others. The
carving on her door depicted a fawn sleeping in a
forest glade. It also included songbirds and a squirrel,
perched on branches and either standing guard or waiting 'til
the fawn was fully asleep so they could pounce. Nice,
Penny thought. She's putting me in The Bambi Room.
"Rada will deliver your luggage," Mrs. Roget told Penny.
"Again, welcome to our home." She pulled Penny into
another embrace and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you, Mrs. Roget," Penny mumbled, managing not to blush.
"Please, call me Bethany."
"Bethany," Penny said. "That's pretty." (Penny
realized she was blushing, just a little, for some reason.)
"How sweet," Bethany smiled.
"Stop buttering up my mother," Gwyn complained.
"Behave yourself, young lady," Bethany scolded, but she was
still smiling so it didn't count.
Gwyn rolled her eyes. "I'll give you get a tour of the
place tomorrow," Gwyn promised Penny, "but the dining room and
kitchens aren't hard to find. Come down for coffee when
"Okay," Penny answered. Bethany and Gwyn waved, the door
(massive and carved on both sides) closed, and Penny
was alone. She turned, and her eyes popped wide.
"The Bambi Room" was huge, and just as Gothic and
luxurious and overdone as the rest of Roget Manor. The
vaulted ceiling was at least twenty feet overhead, and
there were a pair of tall, arched windows on either side of the
bed. The window on the left led out onto a small balcony,
but the most striking feature in the room was the bed itself.
Someone, possibly the same Roget ancestor immortalized down the
hall in the role of Krakken bait, had decided a giant scale
model of a cathedral would be just the thing for a
headboard. Geesh, Penny thought gazing at the
monstrosity, tiny little people could hold mass in
Adding oddity to ornamentation, the heads of no less than twelve
cherubic children―four groupings of three each―protruded from
the headboard, just above the level of the pillows. They
were at just the right level for the bed's hypothetical occupant
(Penny) to stare up at them... and for them to stare down at
said occupant. Fortunately, the stunningly realistic
carved faces weren't focused on the bed. They―all twelve
of them―were staring off into the distance, meaning towards the
far side of the bedroom. Penny stood and gazed at the
twelve disembodied heads. That's not creepy at all,
she decided (sarcastically), then continued her exploration of
There was a writing desk, various chairs, an overstuffed sofa, a
large freestanding wardrobe, an equally large chest of drawers,
a dressing table with a triptych of mirrors and padded bench,
and a small fireplace. Actually, Penny decided, it was a large
fireplace, made small only by the scale of the room.
Also, it turned out her bedroom was actually a suite. A
door (large, carved) led to a full bathroom with an antique
Victorian commode, a washbasin, and a large claw-foot tub.
She suspected they were all modern reproductions, at least with
respect to the plumbing. The tub had a modern balancing
valve, as well as the traditional hand wand and dangling metal
Penny availed herself of the facilities. That is, she
emptied her bladder, washed her face, and brushed her
hair. The bathroom was equipped to meet all her needs with
soap, shampoo, conditioner, washcloths, towels, and even a new
toothbrush, still in its packaging. She noted the
packaging had been carefully slit for ease of removal by Lady
Roget's guest. Penny would be able to leave the toiletries
she'd brought with her in their kit.
She emerged to find her duffel resting on the padded bench at
the foot of the bed/cathedral, next to her laptop-bag.
Obviously, Rada had silently and efficiently made the delivery,
then disappeared back into the Gothic, over-decorated gloom of
the mansion. At least I was spared that awkward moment
with me standing there wondering if I should offer her a tip,
Hanging her clothes in the wardrobe and transferring her undies
and other folded clothes to the chest of drawers took no time at
all. Cousin Beebe had trained her to pack light when
traveling (or when stalking kidnapping targets).
Penny left the bedroom and made her way downstairs in search of
the proffered cup of coffee. Gwyn was right. She had
no difficulty finding the kitchen.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
night was something of a feast. Things started out with a
delicious bisque, which was followed by a spicy chicken dish
served over couscous, which was followed by a salad with three
different kinds of mushrooms, which was followed by some sort of
berry torte. It was all very delicious, as was the
accompanying wine. Penny wasn't all that knowledgeable
about haute cuisine (if that was what this was) or wine, for
that matter, but tasty was tasty―and this stuff was tasty.
Rada had cooked and served the meal with trivial ease.
Penny added chef and waitress to the Norwegian's growing list of
talents and attributes, which currently included bellhop,
stunning beauty, and giant amazon.
They adjourned to a sitting room and Gwyn briefed her mother on
the closing quarter of their sophomore year at L&C.
Mandy and Penny also made contributions to the picture of life
on campus. (Descriptions of their townhouse shenanigans
were carefully omitted, of course.) As for Bethany, she
didn't have a lot to say, insisting that life at the manor was
pleasant but unremarkable.
They all retired at a reasonable hour. Gwyn and Mandy
announced they had books they wanted to read. Bethany
kissed and hugged her daughter and houseguests, cooing goodnight
wishes and lavishly disbursing pecks on the cheek. It was
disgusting, slightly slobbery, and (Penny begrudgingly decided)
Alone in The Bambi Room, Penny was surprised to find a
baby-blue, frilly, gauze-thin baby-doll nightie (with matching
frilly panties) neatly folded and waiting on the foot of the
bed/cathedral. Apparently flitting about the mansion
distributing sexy slumber-wear to Lady Bethany's house guests
was another of Rada's duties. Why not?
Penny decided, disrobed, and donned the sleepwear in
question. She padded into the bathroom, closed the door,
and posed in the full-length mirror mounted on its back.
The nightie was empire-style, hanging in straight folds.
Its lower hem barely reached her upper-thighs, and the frilly,
generous décolletage was held closed by a narrow, baby-blue
ribbon. It left next to nothing to the imagination, and
that included the frilly panties. I look like Deborah
Walley in The Ghost in
the Invisible Bikini, Penny decided, except for
the hair, and with an NC-17 rating that allows semi-clothed
nipples and naughty-bits. She completed her evening
toilette, returned to the bedroom, and climbed between the cool,
high-thread-count sheets of the bed/cathedral. (The twelve
disembodied kids were just as creepy as she'd feared, but at
least they weren't staring at her.)
Penny had noticed the small touchscreen control resting on one
of the bedside tables. It was more-or-less a small tablet
computer, but seemed limited to the control of the bedroom's
various chandeliers and lamps. She tapped virtual buttons
until the bedroom was dark, the gloom relieved only a dimly
glowing nightlight next to the bathroom door. She returned
the remote to the bedside table... and a few seconds later its
tiny screen winked out and The Bambi Room was darker still.
Penny lay in bed and looked around. There were shadows,
lots of shadows. No, nothin' spooky about this place,
Penny thought, then heaved a huge yawn.
Apparently, being bored for hour after hour in the backseat of a
rental car was tiring. Who knew? Penny rolled onto
her side, snuggled the side of her smiling face against the
high-thread-count pillowcase, closed her eyes... and drifted off
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ z z z z z z z ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Penny awoke from a dream in which she was running down the dark
hallways of Roget Manor wearing nothing but a baby-blue nightie
and with Aunt Suki in a gorilla costume in hot pursuit (whatever
that was about) to find she was under attack!
A pair of black-clad figures had pinned her to the bed, gagged
her with something silky and a narrowly folded scarf,
and were putting the finishing touches on a set of ankle and
"MRRRFH!" Penny reiterated, with greater volume, then writhed
and rolled amid the tangled sheets. Her hands were behind
her back and her ankles and wrists crossed and bound with some
sort of thin cord, probably paracord. Going by the ankle
bindings, they were black. Of course, in the nearly pitch
black bedroom, almost everything was some shade of black.
The perpetrators of this expertly executed outrage were now
standing side by side at the foot of the bed. Both were
dressed head-to-toe in skintight black outfits, probably
full-length spandex leotards, with the addition of ski-mask-like
hoods with only narrow slit-openings over their eyes.
Penny's eyes were dark-adapted, so she was 95% sure of the
identities of her attackers. They were...
"Tag!" Gwyn's voice announced.
"You're it!" Mandy's voice added, then the ninja wannabes
giggled, exchanged a high-five, and left the bedroom, quietly
closing the door (massive and carved) behind them.
"Mrrrrrm!" Penny complained. You better run!
She struggled furiously for several seconds, then heaved a
gagged sigh and stared up at the dark shadows of the vaulted
ceiling. Now I feel even more like Deborah
Walley in The
Ghost in the Invisible Bikini, she fumed.
Penny relaxed for several long bound and gagged seconds... then
executed a crunch, lay back and braced herself with her
shoulders, lifted her hips off the mattress, and passed her
bound wrists and arms past her butt. From there it was a
simple matter to tuck her legs and pass her bound wrists past
her bound ankles. She then reached up and pulled the
cleave-gag from her mouth, spit out the stuffing, and attacked
her wrist-bonds with her teeth.
Panties, she realized as she worried the key knot apart
and started unraveling the bindings. Even in the
near-darkness she could make out the lace pattern embroidered on
the crumpled bikini-brief's waistband. And they're my
dirty panties. The dirty panties I ground into the
backseat cushion of that damn car most of the day.
She finished untying her wrists, leaned forward, and attacked
her ankle-bonds. I lost round one before I even knew
the game had started, she fumed. They must
pay. They must both pay.
Finally cord free, Penny climbed from bed, padded to the bedroom
door, and thumbed the privacy latch, something she now realized
she should have done before retiring. Then, for good
measure, she picked up a straight chair, carried it to the door,
and wedged it under the doorknob.
Good enough for now, she decided as she returned to bed,
rolled onto her side, and pulled the covers up to her pouting
chin. Tomorrow she'd have to see about rigging a tripwire
and devising additional booby-traps. Maybe
something with spikes, she decided.
They will pay. They will both pay,
Penny vowed. It's game on, Monkey-butts.
Game. On. You'll rue the day you ambushed
Penny Parr... with real rue!
|The Perils of Penny Parr