| by Van ©2019
journey to... wherever the hell Poor Penny Parr was being
dragged by Rada Grabhands the Norwegian Troll, her handler was
considerate enough to stop at a first floor bathroom so Penny
could empty her bladder. The naked, bound, ball-gagged,
and head-bagged captive assumed it was a "Powder Room," placed
there by the architect for the convenience of the Roget family's
party guests―and the commode didn't have a bidet function.
That allowed Penny to add having her nether region scrubbed
clean by a giant blond amazon with a cold, wet washcloth to her
list of life experiences.
It was humiliating―as was being naked―as was having her wrists
crossed and lashed to the small of her back by a tight
wrist/belly-rope―as was being ball-gagged―as was being
blindfolded by the light-proof black bag currently covering her
head―and as was having her nipples pinched by clover-clamps.
And speaking of those damn clover-clamps...
Penny was no longer sure the clover-clamps Rada was using to
keep her (and especially her nipples) under control were real
clover-clamps. Penny (and especially her nipples)
already had experience with real clover-clamps. Real
clover-clamps were spring-loaded, and the springs were
strong enough to maintain a proper grip on her nipples, even
when somebody wasn't tugging on their
connecting chain. But when somebody was tugging
on the connecting chain, they really tightened.
Real clover-clamps burned a little all the time, but they did a
lot more than burn when force was applied. In fact, they hurt
like hell when somebody (Aunt Suki, for example) pulled
on their chain.
The tit-jewelry currently pinching Penny's nips had the
appropriate weight and feel of clover-clamps, they flopped
around like clover-clamps, and they did hurt when Rada
pulled on the chain, but they didn't hurt like hell.
Either they'd been cleverly modified or purposefully designed to
hurt less than real clover-clamps.
Not that Penny minded that her nips weren't being abused, of
course, it was just something she noted. Also, it was
supporting evidence for a hypothesis Penny was forming about the
state of affairs at Spooky Roget Manor.
Bethany's amazing collection of BDSM toys and
play-furniture was unarguably impressive, but Penny was coming
to believe it had all been purchased and/or custom designed and
manufactured with a carefully defined limit in mind, and that
limit was below Penny's upper limit.
And that was not to imply that back in the townhouse
Penny shared with Gwyn and Mandy during the academic year they
tortured each other 'til the bottom du jour screamed in
agony. Nor did it imply that, during her
kidnapping-for-hire training at the hands of Cousin Beebe and/or
Aunt Suki, Penny was tortured 'til she screamed in
In the first instance, Penny, Gwyn, and Mandy's off-campus
housing didn't come equipped with dungeons and torture
engines. Penny and her friends played with rope and
duct-tape. Two ball-gags and exactly one panel-gag
was the full extent of the girl's shared bondage gear
collection. And while being a meanie was part of the game,
Penny and her friends were playing for fun, not to cause pain.
In the second instance, Beebe and Suki's various lairs were
well-stocked with tons of clever and expensive BDSM
toys (including real clover-clamps), and while Beebe
and Suki took things to a much more intense level than anything
that ever happened at either the townhouse or Roget Manor (so
far), Dr. Bondage had brought the do no harm rule of her
Hippocratic oath with her when she started her second career as
a kidnapper-for-hire. No blood. No permanent
marks. No harm. Not. Ever.
The point was, in Penny's ever-growing experience, the townhouse
was at one level, Cousin Beebe and Aunt Suki were at a
higher lever, and Roget Manor was somewhere in between,
and the clamps currently gripping Penny's nipples were not up
to Aunt Suki's exacting standards.
And then, Penny had a chilling thought (which did not counteract
the burn of the clamps in question). She'd
forgotten the time factor. Beebe's rule was that real
nipple-clamps were to be inflicted on
kidnap-victims/playmates for no longer than 30 minutes.
One hour, tops. So, if her current clamps were "wimpy,"
did that mean it was "okay" to wear them for longer periods?
Maybe Bethany (and by extension, Rada) weren't being nicer, just
I need a more complicated system for categorizing my
play-venues, Penny decided, something
complicated. Something... multi-dimensional.
Anyway... Penny's tit-squeezers might be wimpy, but they were
more than enough to insure her obedience―"Mrf!" ("Ow!")―like
now, with Rada dragging her through the mansion and into what
she decided was almost certainly the kitchen.
Rada planted Penny's butt in a chair, then folded up the lower
part of the head-bag until Penny's chin, ball-gagged-mouth, and
nose were exposed. Somehow, the bag could be secured in
place, making it both a combination skullcap and effective
blindfold. Penny wasn't sure how that happened, but Velcro
may have been involved. A clever design, she
conceded. I'll have to steal one of these things and
send it to Cousin Beebe. She's always on the lookout for
Breakfast followed, and once again, the only thing on the menu
was the same disgustingly healthy cereal (rolled oats, nuts,
fruit, etc., swimming in soy milk) as before. Penny had
never been a big fan of breakfast cereal, and if asked she'd
deny it, but she was developing a taste for the stuff. She
made a mental note to ask Gwyn what it was called.
As for breakfast conversation... there was none. Penny
might be blindfolded, but she knew without any doubt that Rada
was smiling and gloating as she shoveled spoonfuls of
disgustingly healthy, yummy goodness into Penny's pouting
mouth. What the Norwegian Troll wasn't doing was
talking, and Penny wasn't either. Penny had nothing to
say. Should she demand to know what Rada was gonna do to
her? Accuse her of being a literally gigantic pain in the
butt? Threatening dire but unlikely and unspecified
consequences if Rada didn't release her immediately? What
was the point? All of that would be a complete waste of
breath, and worse yet, it would be unforgivably cliché.
Penny hated being cliché. Cliché gloating was
another matter. Cliché gloating was just fine. But
cliché whining? Never!
Eventually, as the saying goes, all disgustingly healthy but
yummy breakfasts come to an end. Rada tipped the bowl so
Penny could slurp the remaining cereal-contaminated soy-milk
into her mouth. Then―"Mrrrf!"―the ball-gag was back in
place and the head-bag cinched around her neck. Penny sat
in her chair and listened while Rada rinsed the bowl and spoon
at the kitchen sink, then―"MRK!"―responded to the tug on her
semi-wimpy clover-clamps by leaping to her bare feet and
"allowing" her overly tall bitch of a captor to lead
her towards the door to the basement.
Rada made sure Penny negotiated the basement stairs safely...
they crossed the basement... Rada made sure Penny negotiated the
dungeon stairs safely... then continued through the
dungeon. Either being blindfolded/head-bagged was messing
with her perception, or this was Penny's longest dungeon trek
yet. The repeated owies when Rada signaled left
or right turns by tugging on her tit-jewelry might also have
been influencing her ability to concentrate. They
certainly weren't improving her mood.
Finally, they stopped and―Click! Thunk! Creeeee!―Rada
unlocked a door, threw the bolt, and opened the door on
oil-hungry hinges. And then―"Mrrrf!"―Rada scooped Penny's
naked, bound, gagged, and head-bagged body into her arms and
carried her across the threshold into... wherever they were.
Over the next couple of minutes―"Mrrrpfh! Mrrrm!
Nrrrk! Mrrrf!"―Penny squirmed and fought, but couldn't
prevent Rada from untying her hemp rope bonds (which she
actually wanted to happen), nor could she prevent Rada from
securing her on her back with steel manacles binding her wrists
and steel shackles binding her ankles (which she did not want
to happen)! The clinking and clanking that accompanied she
struggles suggested attached chains. The result was Poor
Penny Parr bound in a relatively stringent spreadeagle on a hard
wooden surface. Granted, the edges of the steel restraints
were smooth and rounded and fit her relevant anatomy with
precision, but Penny was not a happy camper.
There was a pause while Rada gloated (at least that was what
Penny assumed was happening). Then, Penny heard the
clinking and clattering of a dangling chain, as well as repeated
metallic clicking and clacking noises from somewhere
overhead. She surmised Rada was hauling on the chain in
question. She'd done the same thing while cranking up the
main counterweight and "priming" the self-tightening torture
rack that had been the main event of Day Two. Was Penny
spreadeagled on another automatic damsel
stretcher? No way. Penny would be very disappointed
if that was the case (as well as terrified and distressed), but
there was no way Bethany (or whichever Roget ancestors
had procured the current fun-time entertainment device) could
possibly be that unoriginal. No way. This
had to be something else, maybe something equally complicated
and mechanical, but not another auto-rack.
The clattering continued... and now Penny realized Rada was grunting
as she hauled on the chain (assuming that was what
was happening). If Rada was, indeed, lifting a
counterweight, it had to be a big-honking counterweight,
heavy enough to challenge the strength of even a Norwegian
Finally... Ping! The clattering stopped.
There was another pause. (Apparently, Rada could never get
enough gloating.) Then, the drawstring was loosened and
the bag jerked from Penny's head.
As Penny's blinking eyes adjusted from total darkness to
semi-darkness, she shook her ball-gagged head in a vain effort
to restore something resembling order to her tousled blond
locks. By the time she was finally able to focus, Rada had
crossed the threshold, the chamber door was closing―Creeeeeee!―the
bolt was being thrown―Thunk!―and the lock locked. Click!
It was time for a stunningly clever albeit silent Parting
Shot to send Rada scurrying on her way with her tail between her
legs. Unfortunately, You better run! was
still the best Penny could come up with. She heaved a
sigh, then made a mental note to put more effort into
formulating a list of appropriate biting witticisms.
Penny looked around and confirmed that, as she'd suspected, she
was spreadeagled on her back on a table made of massive wooden
timbers. The chamber was a classic Roget Manor Dungeon
Cell, with the usual stone floor, walls, and vaulted ceiling;
however, it was an unusually large cell and the ceiling
was unusually far overhead. The only explanation
was that this particular chamber continued up through the
basement level and possibly into ground floor as well.
Oh-by-the-way, there was, indeed, another massive and
complicated mass of nested gears and dangling counterweights,
this time directly overhead. And part of the mechanism was
truly ominous! Penny had no idea how the machine
overhead actually worked, but she knew exactly what it
was for. Only one reaction was appropriate:
|The Perils of Penny Parr
to "catch up" were largely successful. She'd licked and
probed Mandy's pussy until the early morning orgasm count was
more or less equal. Given the circumstances, precision was
difficult. And that last time, when Gwyn suspended her
efforts and unilaterally called an end to the festivities, Mandy
may or may not have peaked. Urgent business was being
neglected. Specifically, answering the morning call of
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Gwyn strolled back to the
bed and was nice enough to "free" Mandy so she could scamper
into the bathroom and do the same. The ginger's freedom
was qualified, however, because Gwyn untied her friend only to
the point of mobility. Mandy's upper-body-bonds remained
While Mandy tinkled, Gwyn dressed in panties, bra, black jeans,
a navy-blue tank-top with a cartoon image of a smiling puppy,
anklets, and sneakers. She needed a shower (as did Mandy),
but decided it could wait. Gwyn was hungry and had no
doubt her naked, bound, ginger-haired boink-buddy was equally
Mandy returned from the bathroom still naked, her crossed wrists
still lashed against the small of her back to a belly-rope, and
with additional doubled strands still pinning her upper-arms to
her sides, crisscrossing between her boobs, and yoking her
shoulders. In other words, with the exception of the now
loosely dangling vertical crotch-rope element, Rada's original
rigging remained intact. Also, the ball-gag that had
plugged Gwyn's mouth through most of the hours of the night and
later—and, after the Rada-attack, had stifled her moans while
Mandy licked her pussy—then had been transferred to
Mandy's mouth while Gwyn licked Mandy's pussy—was now
loosely dangling around the redhead's neck with its buckle
secured on the strap's first hole.
The previously mentioned crotch-rope element served as a
convenient leash for Gwyn to lead her ginger prisoner downstairs
to the kitchen. They had the place to themselves.
Apparently, enough time had passed for the Mistress of Roget
Manor to consume her breakfast, place the dirty dishes in the
dishwasher, and withdraw to elsewhere in the mansion.
So... that was one awkward encounter that could wait 'til
later. Likewise, Rada and Penny were nowhere to be seen.
Mandy sat at the kitchen table and watched her captor and newly
acknowledged girlfriend cook a traditional breakfast of bacon,
eggs, toast, and coffee. Gwyn continued being considerate
in that she brewed a cup of coffee and repeatedly shared it with
her prisoner, one sip at a time, while she prepared the
meal. She then fed Mandy and herself and cleaned up
It would appear the couple had silently agreed that a discussion
of being awkwardly outed to Gwyn's mother was premature.
Discussing Penny, however, was another matter.
"Ya think she knows?" Mandy said as she padded behind Gwyn to
one of the first floor sitting rooms. "Ya think she knows
we're a couple?"
"I'm sure Rada knows," Gwyn muttered. "Otherwise,
she wouldn't have tied you between my legs the way she did."
"No, Penny!" Mandy clarified. "Do you think Penny
A few seconds passed before Gwyn answered. "I wouldn't bet
"Me neither," Mandy agreed.
They arrived at the sitting room, Gwyn flopped down on a soft,
comfy sofa, and took Mandy with her. It was easy.
The loose crotch-rope/belly-rope leash was back in her hand and
it made a compelling argument.
"Hey!" Mandy complained (and smiled). Soon, the fully
clothed and rope-free brunette and the naked and rope-bound
redhead were snuggling together with Gwyn's hands around Mandy's
well-roped upper-body. "What do you"―Smooch!―"think
you're"―Smooch!―"doing?" Mandy demanded.
What Gwyn was doing was raining kisses on Mandy's blushing,
lightly-freckled, and smiling face, of course. Gwyn didn't
answer, other than by continuing to rain kisses of
Mandy's blushing, lightly-freckled, and smiling face.
"Really?" Mandy purred. "You wanna make out?"
"And you don't?" Gwyn purred back, then resumed exploring
Mandy's lightly-freckled face and smiling lips with her lips and
tongue. She was also kneading Mandy's lightly-freckled
breasts with one hand and sliding her other hand over Mandy's
lightly-freckled and rope-bound arms, as well as her
lightly-freckled tummy, hips, thighs, etc.
Mandy shivered (with delight), but didn't return Gwyn's
kisses. "Aren't we supposed to wait half an hour?"
"W-what?" Mandy chuckled.
Smooch!―"You wait a half-hour"―Smooch!―"before
"Oh," Mandy responded. "In that case..." Mandy began
squirming her naked, upper-body-bound, lightly-freckled body
against Gwyn and matching her kiss for kiss.
The early morning make-out session continued.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
Penny's experiences at Spooky Roget Manor had been more or less
within the aesthetic realm of John Willie,
and yesterday's automatic rack might have been something Jeff Gord would have
come up with (if the late, great proponent of "ultra tight
bondage" had been into mechanical engineering, as
opposed to electro-mechanical engineering); but what
Penny found herself staring at brought someone else to
mind. Specifically... Edgar Allen Poe!
The device overhead included several nested gears, the largest
of which was something like four or five feet across.
There were also dangling chains and counterweights, as she'd
deduced by listening to Rada haul on a chain and hoist the
largest weight into the air. That was the chain that was
still swaying, so it had to be the one. Also, there was a
long, wooden shaft or spar or whatever it was called, projecting
up through the middle of the gears. A lot of the shaft was
above the machine, but most of it was below, and it was canted
at an angle to Penny's left and was kept from swinging by an
iron clamp. And oh-by-the-way... at the end of the
shaft... at Penny's end of the shaft was... a
semi-circular blade big enough to dice a full grown buffalo!
Clearly (although Penny very much hoped she was mistaken). the
gears and counterweights and shaft and blade were a Pendulum
Torture Device! If the clamp restraining the shaft
was released, the shaft would swing, the gears would grind, and
slowly... ever so slowly... the blade would swing lower... and
lower... and lower... until...
Granted, the chamber was semi-dark, lit only by a few LEDs
flickering like candles in assorted niches, the distance up to
the machine was too great for Penny to make out a lot of
the mechanical details, she didn't have an ideal viewing angle,
and was lacking an engineering degree... but that had to
be the point of the thing. Right? Swinging lower and
lower and lower, until... Otherwise, what was the
point? Swinging and swinging and swinging and... swinging?
And what was that irritating dripping sound? Penny looked
to her right (away from the ominously clamped shaft and wickedly
curved blade) and beheld a large wooden bucket suspended from a
chain, and several feet above it was another wooden bucket, and
this one had a spout. The higher bucket was dripping into
the lower bucket―Doink. Doink. Doink.―which
Penny didn't find at all ominous and disturbing.
Doink. Doink. Doink.
Suddenly―Ker'clunk!―the lower bucket dropped one chain
Doink. Doink. Doink. Obviously, as the
weight of the lower bucket increased, it was... doing something.
Doink. Doink. Doink. What that might
be―Ker'clunk!―Penny had no idea, but―Doink.
Doink. Doink.―there had to be some point to the
buckets-and-chain device, or sub-device, or ancillary mechanism,
or whatever it was.
Doink. Doink. Doink.
This continued for some time―Doink. Doink.
Doink. Doink. Doink. Doink.
Ker'clunk! Doink. Doink. Doink.―while
Penny confirmed that her steel bonds were, indeed, 100%
escape-proof by squirming her naked body on the hard wood of the
table and kicking and tugging on her shackles and manacles,
respectively. She also stared up and to her left
at the ominous and obviously razor-sharp and menacingly glinting
blade of the pendulum. And then...
Doink. Doink. Doink. Ker'CLUNK!
The bucket dropped again, there was a creaking sound― "Creeee!"
―followed immediately by an authoritative metallic sound to
Penny's left―KLACK!―and the clamp restraining the
pendulum snapped open!
The pendulum swung to the right―directly across, but thankfully
several feet above, Penny's clamped nipples―Swoosh!―then
swung back to the left! At the same time, the gears of the
overhead mechanism began to grind and turn!
Swooosh! The blade literally whistled as it sliced
through the air! And at the end of each swing it paused...
perceptibly―Swooosh!―before swinging back.
The thing WAS a Pendulum Torture Device!
Or at least a ridiculously over-complicated example of the
Something happened, something involving the gears immediately
surrounding the shaft's pivot-point!
The distance was far too great for Penny to visually confirm
anything, but she had her suspicions.
Logically, if the blade was there to do more than roil the
The mechanism had to lower itself...
Or the shaft had to lengthen...
Or something had to happen to bring the blade swinging
lower and lower and closer and closer to Poor Penny
Okay, okay, okay! Penny thought. Good one!
Ya really had me goin' there for a second!
But this thing―as impressive as it is―can't possibly be a
Pendulum EXECUTION Device!
Bethany and Rada would never just OFF me like this!
At the very least they'd hang around so they could watch!
And if I'd dead, Gwyn and Mandy would have to find a new
housemate when they go back to school!
That would be... a minor inconvenience!"
Whatever it was the gears had done before... they'd just done it
And the blade was still swinging!
|The Perils of Penny Parr
Mandy's sitting room make-out session continued for some time.
And then―possibly because one or both of the girls became
concerned about developing chapped lips―Gwyn retrieved Mandy's
waist-rope tether (the vertical element of her former
crotch-rope) and "dragged" her ginger captive towards the
nearest exterior door. The informal gardens were beyond,
resplendent in morning sunshine, chirping birds, and scampering
"Time for you to work on your freckles," Gwyn explained.
"My freckles?" Mandy sighed.
"Mother loves your freckles," Gwyn purred.
Mandy rolled her green eyes. "I know." Gwyn opened
the door and they crossed the threshold and strolled across the
lawn. "So what?"
Gwyn beamed at her pouting captive. "You don't want to
make your girlfriend's mother happy?"
Mandy heaved another sigh (and ignored the thrill that rippled
between her legs in response to Gwyn's use of the word
"girlfriend"). "What about tan-lines?"
"You mean freckle-lines?" Gwyn chuckled.
Mandy rolled her eyes, again. "Okay, freckle-lines."
"What freckle-lines?" Gwyn asked.
"The freckle-lines I'll get because of Rada's ropes," Mandy
"Oh, you mean your future, hypothetical freckle-lines,"
Mandy purred, then spun Mandy around and began untying the
ginger's rope bonds. "Don't worry. I got ya
covered... or uncovered, as the case may be."
Mandy smiled, bit her lower lip, and watched a flock of
songbirds (probably chickadees and nuthatches) loot sunflower
and peanut fragments from a tube-feeder hanging from a lower
branch of a distant oak. Quickly, her black hemp bonds
melted away... and she was free... and naked.
Gwyn, nodded towards a nearby deck with several lounge-chairs
and a small cabinet as she coiled Mandy's former ropes.
"Sunscreen," she ordered.
"In a minute," Mandy responded, smiling and rubbing her newly
freed wrists. "But first... strip."
Gwyn grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Any second now," Mandy explained, "Rada's gonna show up.
If at least one of us isn't naked and tied up, she'll
have an excuse to pounce."
It was Gwyn's turn to roll her eyes. "Like she needs an
excuse." She pulled her tank-top over her head and tossed
it to Mandy.
Mandy folded the tank and watched (her lips curled in a leering
smile) as her girlfriend also removed her bra, sneakers,
anklets, jeans, and panties.
Standing on the grass in all her 5' 2", fair-complected, nude
glory, it was Gwyn's turn to watch as Mandy completed folding
and bundling her former clothes, then padded to the deck and
dropped the stack on a lounge-chair.
"We should do this in the shade," Mandy announced as she
returned to her now nude soon-to-be-captive and pointed to an
oak a reasonable distance from the oak with the hanging
birdfeeder, "by which I mean I should do you in the
shade. We both know you don't tan. You don't even
freckle. You just burn... like a vampire."
"Funny," Gwyn drawled, appreciating the view as Mandy bent at
the waist (with her lightly-freckled butt facing her
soon-to-be-captive) and picked up the coils of black hemp rope.
The naked duo adjourned to the shade of the indicated oak,
and―with a lot of smiling and only a little caressing and
kissing―Mandy proceeded to bind her naked girlfriend in a
box-tie/cross-legged-hogtie/frog-tie. Soon, the daughter
of the household was on her stomach, on the grass, under the
dappled shade of the oak, and only capable of excruciatingly
slow inchworm locomotion if she wished to relocate. Gwyn
watched as (still smiling) Mandy reached behind her head, parted
her long, ginger locks, and unbuckled the ball-gag still
dangling around her neck.
"You didn't have to be such a bitch," Gwyn complained, squirming
and testing her obviously well-tied and inescapable bonds.
Her back was arched and her thighs and breasts nearly lifting
off the grass. That was the bitchiness in question, the
totally unnecessary stringency of the hogtie.
"Rada will expect it," Mandy explained. "Besides," the
grinning ginger continued as she knelt beside Gwyn's pouting
head, ball-gag at the ready, "I ran out of rope."
"Mrrrk!" Gwyn complained as the black, silicon-rubber sphere
invaded her mouth and Mandy buckled the strap tight, under her
dark, tousled hair. She then squirmed and continued
mewling complaints as Mandy strolled back to the deck, opened
the cabinet, lifted a folded towel and a bottle of sunscreen off
a shelf, then strolled out onto the open lawn. Apparently,
she'd also found a fabric-covered elastic on the cabinet shelf,
because she combed her long, ginger hair with her fingers,
coiled it into a tight bun atop her head, and enforced the neck
and face-baring coif with said elastic. Mandy then
proceeded to stand there in the full sun and rub sunscreen all
over her naked body.
Gwyn found the sight of Mandy oiling her lightly freckled self
to be distracting... so distracting she flinched in
surprise when her mother's voice suddenly broke the silence.
"She's very pretty," Bethany stated, standing next to her
helplessly hogtied and ball-gagged daughter.
State the obvious much? Gwyn silently fumed. She'd
recovered from her surprise, and noted her mother was barefoot
and dressed in thigh-length spandex exercise pants and a
tank-top, black and rose-pink, respectively. Her dark hair
was coiled atop her head in a tight bun, like Mandy. The
smile curling the maternal lips and sparkling in the sky-blue
maternal eyes was infuriating (and beautiful).
"Well... enjoy the shade," Bethany stated, then padded across
the lawn and towards Mandy, waving as she cruelly abandoned Gwyn
to the ants, flies, mosquitoes, vultures, raccoons, coyotes,
wolves, cougars, bears, etc.
Mandy returned Bethany's wave (and tried not to blush).
"Hi," she said quietly.
"Hello, Amanda," Bethany purred, pulling Mandy into a warm
embrace and planting a kiss on her coral-pink lips.
This did not help Mandy's blushing problem.
"Working on your freckles for me?" Bethany inquired.
"Uh..." Mandy nodded quickly.
"Such a good girl," Bethany chuckled.
"W-we have something to ask you," Mandy stammered.
"We?" Bethany inquired.
"Uh... Gwyn, Penny... myself."
Bethany nodded. "Continue."
"We want to capture Rada. You know. Strip her naked
and tie her up?"
Bethany's smile didn't falter. "I see. A laudable
goal, but what do you expect me to do about it? Give you
"Well, yeah," Mandy confirmed. "Also... we want you to
order her to let us do it."
"Oh, I see," Bethany stated, continuing to smile at Mandy's
obviously nervous, naked, glistening, (blushing), and
lightly-freckled face. "I assume this is mainly Penny's
idea," Bethany purred. You were never this ambitious last
summer." Bethany's smile widened. "That's an
observation, of course, not a criticism."
Mandy heaved a sigh. "Yeah... the thought never occurred
to us... last summer. It would have been two against one."
"With the one being Rada," Bethany purred.
"Well," Bethany continued, "I'll have to think about it."
"That's reasonable," Mandy granted.
"Have you ever practiced Tai Chi?" Bethany inquired.
Mandy blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Uh... no."
"Would you like to give it a try?"
Mandy nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
"Try not to overwhelm me with your enthusiasm," Bethany
chuckled, then started walking in a circle and shaking her feet
and hands. "Step one is warm-up," she explained. "Never
"Okay," Mandy agreed and mimicked her Tai Chi instructor's
Back in the shade, the naked, stringently bound, and ball-gagged
Gwyn shook her hair from her face and glared at her
mother and girlfriend. She'd been able to follow most of
their conversation, despite the distance. She watched as
Mother and Mandy moved on to stretching exercises.
Gwyn heaved a helpless, ball-gagged sigh and relaxed in her
bonds. Would Mother lend her support to their ambitious
plan to capture and humiliate Rada, as the Norwegian amazon so
richly deserved? And would Bethany's support do them any
good? Only time would tell.
At least we'll be able to tell Penny her 'plan' is underway,
Gwyn mused, whenever Rada is done playing with her... and
she has time to recover. The naked, hogtied, and
ball-gagged daughter-of-the-house had no idea what diabolical
atrocity Penny was being subjected to for Day Three of Hazing
Week, but she was sure it would almost certainly require a
Out on the lawn, Bethany continued teaching Mandy a
Tai-Chi-for-beginners routine. Gwyn decided it was...
entertaining... the part about naked Mandy slowly, gracefully
striking martial arts poses with increasing confidence, anyway.
|The Perils of Penny Parr
her coffee and enjoyed the view out the window of one of the
manor's many first floor sitting rooms. She'd removed and
returned her black fleece vest, sneakers, and anklets to her
room, so now was wearing only the black spandex exercise pants
and sports bra of what Gwyn called her "pouncing costume."
Out in the side garden, Gwyn was enjoying the shade of an oak
tree. Her precious little Valp was naked and
weakly squirming in the embrace of a few meters of black hemp
rope, as well as chewing on a black, silicon-rubber ball-gag,
which, admittedly, made the full extent of her actual enjoyment
difficult to ascertain.
Meanwhile, on the expansive lawn and in the full mid-morning
sun, an exercise-togs clad Bethany was teaching a naked Mandy
Byrne the fundamentals of Tai Chi.
The neighborhood flock had overcome being disturbed by the
humans' arrival and continued presence (or had surrendered to
avian hunger) and returned to the feeder hanging from the oak
off to one side. Rada made a mental note to make the
rounds and check on all the bird-feeding stations, including the
two hummingbird feeders. This time of year, there were a
lot of fledglings still mastering flight, figuring out how to
land on things without crashing, and sorting out the whole
feed-yourself-without-being-fed-by-mother thing. They were
always a lot of fun to watch, and by their antics and wasted
motion, Rada strongly suspected half the crowd at the
tube-feeder were youngsters.
The human youngsters, the one writhing in bondage in
the shade and the one working on her freckle collections,
respectively, were also fun to watch. Even
Bethany, attired in skimpy exercise clothes and being all
maternal and instructive was fun.
Rada pulled her iPhone from the back pocket of her spandex pants
and opened an app. The phone's tiny screen now displayed
real-time video of what was happening down in the Poe Pendulum
Chamber. Penny Parr was weakly tugging on her steel bonds,
anxiously staring upwards, and turning her ball-gagged head, her
blue eyes following the steel pendulum blade with obvious dread
as it slowly whooshed back and forth over her naked,
Poor Penny, Rada thought (and smiled). She knew it
was probably too early in the program for Penny to be absolutely
certain that the blade was, indeed, descending. Maybe
in another hour she'll know for sure, Rada decided.
Certainly in two. It was going to be a very
long day for the cute little helpless blonde.
Rada clicked off the iPhone, slid it back in her pocket, and
returned her smiling gaze to the window. So... what to
It might be fun to abscond with Gwyn while her mother and lover
were occupied perfecting Mandy's Tai Chi moves. Then, Rada
could make her precious little Valp even more helpless―hide
her in one of the mansion's countless secret cubbyholes―come
back and capture Bethany and Mandy―bind and gag them both―then
declare a scavenger hunt. The first one to find Gwyn would
be set free, and Gwyn and the loser would remain naked, bound,
and gagged prisoners until sundown, for the winner to do with as
she pleased. She imagined Mandy and Bethany hopping around
the mansion... ankles bound, wrists bound in a
reverse-prayer-kimono-ties, ball-gagged and tape-gagged,
their boobs flopping with every bounce as they searched and
searched... while Gwyn, stringently bound and gagged, squirmed
in her close, dark, tiny prison and awaited "rescue."
Rada sighed and shook her head. It would be fun, but
Bethany and Mandy were bound to notice (so to speak) when Rada
tried absconding with Gwyn. That would lessen the impact
of the game. It just wouldn't be the same without
Rada knew she'd think of something. Gwyn wasn't going
anywhere, and eventually Bethany and Mandy would either have to
come inside or find some shade and get out of the sun.
After that, either Bethany or Mandy would wander off on their
own and Rada would have her chance to strike. Hmm...
my little Fox would also make a good scavenger hunt
prize... then mother and daughter could hop around and look
for her together. Hmm...
Time would tell who would be the prize and who would be the
seekers, but more and more a Bondage Scavenger Hunt was sounding
like a good idea.
In any case, Penny was out of the running. She had
problems of her own to worry about.
|The Perils of Penny Parr