Meanwhile, upstairs in Danica's Studio...
Her hand still tightly
clutched in Danica's businesslike grip, Sam followed the
creatively inspired blonde upstairs and into what Danica called
her Artistic Inner Sanctum (and everyone else called Danica's
Studio). The artist scampered. Sam simply walked
quickly. Tomboys do not scamper. Also,
scampering in work-boots is extremely difficult.
Anyway, Sam was already familiar with the Sanctum/Studio.
During the now tragically truncated Initial Survey she'd
clamored all over the space while Danica took notes.
Everything appeared to be unchanged.
Located on a corner of the third floor of one of the mansion's
many wings, the Studio's east and south-facing walls were mostly
windows, and they admitted a flood of natural light that could
be attenuated over a wide range by deploying multiple sets of
hanging drapes ranging from whisper thin to translucent white to
opaque black. Overhead was the exposed interior framing of
a modest spire, which made for a complex and interesting
ceiling. Support timbers and cross-braces seemed to travel
in all directions. The overall decor was Gothic, as was to
be expected, but the space was brighter and less adorned than
most of the finished rooms in the mansion. There was a
reasonable amount of ornamental carving, but most of it was
limited to the vertical pilasters and a few of the horizontal
beams overhead. The walls themselves were plastered (as
opposed to clad in darkly stained wood paneling) and painted a
cheerful shade of... antique pearl? Pale ivory? Sam
wasn't sure, but whatever the paint chip was labeled, the tint
had less yellow than "beige." Anyway, it was one of the
few rooms in the mansion not dark and brooding in the
full-on Gothic manner.
As for furnishings, there was a wardrobe, a massive combination
cabinet and chest of drawers, a tall bookshelf, and a rack of
stretched canvases, all set back against the non-window
walls. There was also comfortably padded seating of
various types and all in the Gothic style, including a
straight-chair, a wing-chair, an ottoman, a loveseat, a
full-size sofa, and a daybed. However, they weren't
artfully arranged in conversation groupings but had been pushed
back to maximize the working space in the center of the room
directly under the peak of the spire. At the moment that
space was occupied by the daybed, and a few feet away were the
expected painter's easel with a blank canvas, a comfortably
padded bar (artist's) stool, and a side-table cluttered with
jars of upright brushes, bottles of various fluids (for
brush-cleaning?) tubes of oil paint, and other artist's
supplies. The floor underfoot was finished hardwood, like
the rest of the upstairs mansion, and with the usual expensively
woven carpets and rugs; however, directly under the easel,
stool, and side-table there was a spread sheet of paint-stained
canvas, an obvious concession to creative sloppiness.
"Okay," Danica said as she finally released Sam's hand and
pointed to the wing-chair. "Put yer stuff there," she
suggested (ordered), then continued across the room to a clothes
tree next to an ornately carved filing cabinet, a comfy-looking
office chair, and a Gothic desk with a high end computer
workstation with a keyboard, graphics tablet, and one of those
oversize, triple-wide, hi-res monitors. It was an oasis of
21st Century modernity in an otherwise 19th Century artist's
studio. "I'll get everything ready," Danica announced.
Sam watched with amusement (and carefully casual appreciation)
as Danica removed her sundress and hung it on the clothes tree,
kicked off her sandals, then shrugged into a paint-stained,
pastel-blue-green, cotton, knee-length, long sleeve garment that
buttoned in front. (Duster? Lab-coat?
Artist's smock? Whatever.) Anyway, Danica was
thereby re-clothed and no longer her former
panties-and-bra-clad-but-otherwise-naked self. Sam
continued watching as the grinning blonde secured a pair of
buttons... one over her stomach and the other below her breasts,
but left the rest unbuttoned.
Danica then turned and stared at Sam. "Well? Get on
"Get on with what now?" Sam purred, her arms folded
under her breasts.
Danica rolled her eyes. "Get on with getting naked,
silly, so I can pose you and get down to work. Duh."
Still smiling, Sam raised a "surprised" eyebrow. "You mean
you were serious? You really want to paint
me? I thought we were just goofing off to get back at
Kenzy for being so bossy."
"No, I'm going to paint you, like I said," Danica responded,
then spun on her bare feet and padded to the
cabinet/chest-of-drawers. "Get naked." She opened a
cabinet door... then paused. "No, wait! I have a
better idea." She closed the cabinet, took a step to the
side, opened one of the drawers, reached inside and pulled out
some sort of folded garment. Then, she let it fall open
and padded towards her presumptive model. Between her two
hands and fluttering from its spaghetti straps was a
spruce-green, silky, somewhat skimpy camisole.
"Okay, now get naked," she suggested (ordered), "then
put this on."
Sam stared at Danica and the rather flimsy, rather abbreviated
garment dangling from her would be portrait artist's
hands. It was very pretty, she had to admit, and
the color would complement her ginger hair and freckled
complexion to perfection; but it was also girlie, far too
girlie for Sam's taste. She hated it. "No," Sam
huffed (and pouted).
Danica and the ultra-feminine camisole in question were now
close at hand. "Don't be a spoilsport!" the
enthusiastically smiling blonde pleaded. "I need it to
fulfill my artistic vision. Pleeeeease?"
Sam glowered at the camisole for several disapproving seconds...
then rolled her green eyes, snatched it from Danica's hands,
tossed it on the wing-chair's back, then pulled her tank-top
over her head.
"Goodie!" Danica enthused, then padded (scampered) back to the
cabinet, opened the door, pulled out a rather large (and ominous,
in Sam's opinion) duffel-bag of black ballistic nylon, then
lugged it back to the daybed.
Meanwhile, Sam removed her boots, socks, cargo shorts, and
finally her dingy-white, nearly worn out, and arguably boring
Hanes Cool Comfort® briefs... then donned the camisole,
straightened her loose hair, and looked down at herself.
Without a mirror it was difficult to be sure, but her initial
assessment was confirmed. The color suited her
peachy-pink, freckled complexion and ginger hair, and the thin,
silky fabric hugged the curves of her torso, but it was short...
too short! Sam was naked from the mid-tummy
down! The overall effect was arguably sexy (and incredibly
cute), but not Sam-appropriate. She still hated
"Perfect!" Danica gushed as she dropped the duffel-bag next to
the daybed. "Now, over here."
Hands on hips, Sam glowered at Danica. "You don't
have matching panties that go with this thing?"
"Of course I do," Danica giggled, "but they aren't
appropriate for this tableau."
"Appropriate," Sam muttered. Her hands were on her hips in
Heroic Stance and her freckled expression was one of mildly
Danica was unmoved by her model's petulant resistance.
"It's my artistic vision, remember?"
Sam glared at the smiling artist for several seconds...
then stomped (padded) towards the daybed, her ginger locks
wafting behind her irate head.
"Brilliant!" Danica gushed as her model approached, then
stooped, unzipped the main compartment of the duffel, and pulled
out a large coil of what appeared to be medium-brown,
triple-braided, three-eighths-inch hemp rope!
Sam skidded to a stop (causing her ginger hair to sway) and her
green eyes popped wide. "Wait-what?" she
"Don't act so surprised," Danica purred. "Two birds with
one stone." She then released the coil's retaining hitch,
let the thirty-or-so-feet of rope fall open, then doubled it,
found the center, and prepared it for use. "Art and training,"
she continued. "Turn around for me."
"No!" Sam huffed again, stomping her right bare foot for
"Pleeeeease?" Danica cajoled.
Sam continued staring at the rope... and blinking.
"Wouldn't want to disappoint the Princess," she muttered, then
executed an arguably graceful half-pirouette and crossed her
wrists behind her back and atop her pale, firm, naked butt.
|The Perils of CONTRACTING
|| Chapter 6
Meanwhile, downstairs in the Ridiculously
Over-complicated Rack Room...
was naked and supine on the rack with her arms raised. Her
wrists were about two feet apart and locked in the torture
engine's hefty steel cuffs with her fingers wrapped around the
padded hang-grips. Her ankles were also two feet apart,
locked in the shackles, and on pointe. The nude
redhead was your classic damsel-on-the-rack, although at the
moment she was "enjoying" a reasonably generous amount of slack
in the chains attached to her restraints.
"Okay... it's a rack," Kenzy huffed, tugging on her wrists and
weakly kicking her feet.
"Yes, it's a rack," Gabby purred, then took a firm grip on the
rim of a wagon-sized wheel... smiled... then began slowly
turning the wheel, which set in motion nearly the entire
mechanism! Chains rattled, ratchets lifted and dropped,
gears turned, and counterweights slowly dropped! Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk,
"Hey!" Sam complained, tugging on her bonds with greater
enthusiasm. "I thought you said all that stuff was disconnected!"
Her wrist and ankle chains were definitely being drawn
onto their respective drums and she was definitely losing
definitely! Yes, it was a rack! A real
"I meant the automated features," Gabby purred as she continued
turning the wheel. "Those are the parts that are
"Or if not actually disconnected than decoupled or set on
'neutral' or 'pass-through' or whatever you want to
call it." Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk...
"See, the pendulum isn't swinging." Click-click-click-thunk...
"But it is a rack, that's for sure."
Kenzy noted that the mechanism's hefty but mysterious pendulum
was, indeed, not swinging. Also the gear ratios involved
in stretching her out appeared to be... reversed? Click-click-click-thunk-click-click-click-thunk...
A lot of wheel turning on Gabby's part was resulting in only a
little stretching. Maybe it's to allow for fine
adjustment, Kenzy posited.
Finally, Gabby stopped turning the wheel and smiled down at
Kenzy. "There," she purred, "I think that's enough for
Kenzy noted that the sinister blonde had been doing a lot of
purring lately, especially since tricking her into getting naked
and allowing herself to be bound on the rack. Also, after
all of Gabby's recent wheel turning, her naked, freckled body
(with bikini-lines) was now really stretched!
"You're sooo pretty," Gabby cooed, "all stretched out
with your muscles well-defined. Your abs are a delicious
anatomy lesson. Also, flattened boobies..." She
rested her right palm on Kenzy's left breast. "Well, semi-flattened
Kenzy lifted her chin and nodded towards the machine. "You
really have no idea what all the disconnected parts of
that thing are supposed to do?"
"Not really," Gabby shook her head, gazing at the mechanism in
question... She then shifted her smile back to the damsel
on the rack. "Something torturous, I'd imagine."
"Very funny," Kenzy huffed, then tugged on her bonds, again (or
tried to, anyway). "Okay, it works. It's a
rack." She gazed at her right hand and wrist, examining
the barrel-lock securing the restraint. "You can let me go
Gabby's smile broadened. "Oh,
not yet," she chuckled. "You need time to fully
appreciate my ancestors' collective genius."
Kenzy watched as Gabby (the smiling bitch) leaned down to the
side of the rack. There was a dry, scraping sound—Screee—and
Kenzy surmised Gabby was opening a drawer of some sort.
The sound repeated—Screee—which Kenzy took to be Gabby closing
said drawer; and now the angelically (demonically) smiling
blonde was leaning close, and stretched between her hands was a
"Medical-grade silicon," Gabby purred, "with breathing holes!"
Kenzy tugged on her bonds as the gag approached.
"No! Gabby! I said no—MRRRFH!"
Smiling like a gloating witch—a pretty, blue-eyed,
flaxen-haired, very sexy, but definitely gloating
witch—Gabby had thrust the ball into Sam's protesting mouth and
was buckling the strap tight at the nape of her neck,
under Kenzy's tousled ginger crop.
Kenzy wiggled and squirmed and stared very sharp, very
formidable, and very imaginary-and-therefore-harmless
daggers at her treacherous captor and/or torturer.
"Even better," Gabby sighed as she finished arranging Kenzy's
still somewhat messy hair, then once again rested her palm on
Kenzy's left breast. "I love your freckles, by
the way," Gabby said. "Your sister's freckles as well...
but I'm a little disappointed you both don't have allover freckles.
The pale skin over your nipples and pussy is sexy, in its own
way, but I'd much rather you had a rich forest of free-range
freckles." Gabby's smile faded. "Wait. Do
freckles come in 'forests?' And they don't roam around, so
how can they be 'free-range?'" Her smile returned.
"No matter. I'm sure you know what I mean."
Just then... Click!
Kenzy turned her head to face the Ridiculously Over-complicated
Rack Chamber's only door.
Gabby spun on her sandals, turning her entire body, and also
gave the door her full attention.
The portal opened... and Nora and Kimiko strolled across the
threshold. Nora was in sandals and her usual seasonal
sundress, while Kimiko was in high-heel pumps, a black pencil
skirt, and a white cotton blouse showing significant cleavage.
Nora was smiling, but in a regal and somewhat disapproving
manner. "You were right, Kimiko-sama," she sighed.
Kimiko bowed to the Nordberg matriarch... then focused on
Gabby. "I am disappointed in you, Gabrielle," she said
It was then that Kenzy noticed that both Nora and Kimiko were
carrying coils of hemp rope.
|The Perils of CONTRACTING
|| Chapter 6
upstairs in Danica's Studio...
Danica's "artistic vision"
took something between forty-five minutes and a full hour to
blossom forth and fully manifest itself.
Sam was now naked (not counting the very pretty but excessively
girly-girl spruce-green camisole "covering" her torso from her
shoulders to her midriff, her bellybutton playing peekaboo as
she squirmed), and had allowed herself to be box-tied.
She'd then obediently knelt atop the carefully rumpled and
arranged covers of the daybed with her legs together and tucked
to the left with her upper body vertical, as directed.
Danica then tied Sam's knees together, cinched the bindings,
then did the same to her ankles. This initial bondage
happened rather quickly, but what followed took more time.
Obviously, Danica had set herself the task of making sure Sam
stayed exactly where she wanted her to be, and her
method of choice was to lash rope through Sam's ankle and knee
bonds, then stretch the doubled strands across the mattress,
down to decorative but fully-functional iron rings dangling from
the daybed's carved wooden frame, thereby removing all the
slack, then tying arguably decorative knots. The resulting
guy ropes were taut enough to dimple the edge of the mattress
and quite effectively prevented Sam from squirming her butt and
folded legs more than... a half-inch in any direction?
Anyway, Sam was now pinned in place in two dimensions.
As for the third dimension, Danica made use of three
more decorative-but-functional iron rings, two embedded in
pilasters on opposite sides of the studio, and a third dangled
from the underside of an elaborately carved beam directly over
Sam's head. The ginger captive had noticed the multitude
of innocently decorative rings integrated into all the room's
carvings during the initial survey, but only now realized that
they were all effective lashing points and that Danica's Studio
was also Danica's Bondage Studio!
Anyway, Danica stood on a folding step-stool and passed the end
of a long hemp rope through the overhead ring... threaded it
through the nexus of Sam's box-tie ropes behind her back... back
up through the ring... back down through the nexus... back up to
the ring, once again... then pulled out all the
slack. Horizontal side ropes were similarly tied between
the nexus and the pilasters.
Finally, Danica took a step back. "You may commence your
Courtesy Struggle," she solemnly intoned.
Sam rolled her eyes, then followed the artist's instructions by
wiggling, squirming, and generally struggling, attempting to
defeat Danica's magnificently applied bonds as best she
could. This time she was methodical, not demonstrating the
unrestrained and athletic enthusiasm she'd tried during her last
encounter with Danica's rigging skills; however, her efforts
proved to be just as ineffective. While this was
happening, Sam realized that half her weight was being carried
by the vertical rope linking her to the ceiling, and the other
half by her legs and butt as they rested on the daybed's
mattress. The midair horizontal guy-ropes seemed to carry
none of her weight, but they were highly effective at
pinning her in place.
For what it was worth, Sam was impressed by Danica's
skills. Not only were the ropes binding her body tight,
well-cinched, and inescapable, but the strands linking her to
the ceiling beam and the pilasters on either side were taut as
the proverbial fiddle-strings. A "trucker's hitch" had
been incorporated in each set as they were tied and it was as if
the box-tie's nexus was simply fixed in mid-air. Finally,
all three sets had been neatly and artistically finished
with elegant knots and the free ends wrapped around the other
ropes with their last few inches neatly hitched. Sam's
perspective was limited, but she was impressed. Princess
knew the ropes!
Also, once Sam was bound in place and could do nothing to stop
her, Danica pulled the left spaghetti-strap of Sam's camisole
out from under the shoulder-yoking strands of the box-tie and
off her left shoulder, then tugged on the top of the camisole
until the upper two-thirds of Sam's freckle-free left breast and
her left nipple were exposed! Of course, the
rope-framed and slightly squeezed boob and nipple had only been
technically covered before, given the whisper-thin
nature of the spruce-green fabric, but now they were on peekaboo
display... like her navel!
"Danica!" Sam complained. "What the hell?"
"Your déshabillé tells a story," Danica
explained. "You struggled like a wildcat during
your capture, especially while you were being tied up, but
unfortunately you were overpowered." She lightly prodded
her model's left nipple for emphasis. "And here's the
Sam scowled as her left nipple hardened in apparent agreement
with her captor, and still covered her right nipple was
following suit! Now, Sam had a humiliating case of the
camisole-covered half-pokies... and Danica had noticed! Traitors,
Sam silently excoriated her nipples, then lifted her chin to
glower at Danica—but the blonde artist had turned her back and
was padding back to the Gothic cabinet/chest-of-drawers across
the studio. Sam organized her thoughts, preparing a scathing
diatribe that would put the Princess in her proper place...
then abruptly decided to put her speech on hold.
Danica had opened a drawer, pulled something out, and was
padding back to the daybed (and her Artistic Vision) with what
was unmistakably a panel-gag in her hands!
Sam swallowed nervously. The gag's face-panel was
dark-tan, chamois-thin leather, the hardware dark bronze, and
the device was as much a muzzle as a gag-panel. It had a
curved cutout for her nose and a cup for her chin. Also,
integrated in the design was a stout, 1½" strap of the same
dark-tan leather. Finally, on the panel's inside surface a
rubber mouth-plug was threaded through the strap, and it was
either Sam's old friend, the ugly pastel-green Silencicone
glob from her last lesson, or its identical evil twin!
Smiling sweetly, Danica had thrust the carefully sculpted glob
between Sam's lips... wedged it between her teeth... then
crammed it fully into her mouth! "Nrrrm!" The
sweetly smiling blonde made sure the glob and the panel/muzzle
were properly in place with Sam biting down on the
bite-protector, pressing against Sam's lips and lower face, and
cupping her chin! "Mrfff!" She then tightly secured
the buckle at the nape of Sam's neck and freed any strands of
ginger hair that had been trapped under the strap. Danica
then took a step back, tucked her hands in the pockets of her
lab-coat/artist's-smock, and beamed.
Sam continued complaining—"Nrmfmpfh!"—tossing her head (which
caused her tousled hair to flutter)—"NRRR!"—and gave the gag a
Courtesy Volume Test. "MRRRMFH!" Actually, it was a
full-body Courtesy Struggle and Volume Test,
with the enthusiasm that had been lacking before.
Danica approved. "Excellent. Keep that up 'til
you're sweaty, tired, and a little frazzled. That'll be just
the look I'm hoping for... meaning we're hoping
for. Painting a portrait is a joint venture."
Sam continued struggling... and scowling.
"I caught myself a tomboy!" Danica whispered... then her
smile evaporated and her blue eyes popped wide. "Oh!
Did I say that out loud?" She blushed (prettily), then
padded to the filing cabinet next to the desk and
computer-workstation, opened the top drawer, pulled out a very
expensive looking Sony camera—causing Sam's eyes to pop
wide—then padded to her easel, stool, and side-table setup.
Sam shook her head, causing her tousled ginger curls to flutter,
once again. "NRRR! NUH-UH! NUH-UH!"
"If I didn't know any better," Danica purred as she sat on the
stool and raised the camera, "I'd think you didn't want to
have your picture taken." Snap-snap-snap-snap-snap...
"NRRRRR!" Sam continued struggling and squirming.
"Don't have kittens," Danica teased as she continued taking
pictures. Snap-snap-snap-snap... "Or should
I say cute little fox cubs?" Snap-snap-snap.
She then carefully set the camera down on the side table.
"The photos are for reference," she explained. "I rely on
memory, like artists of old... but the photos help me track fine
details as the light changes and you start getting tired and...
Sam stopped struggling and trying to force complaints through
her quite effective gag and rededicated herself to staring
daggers at the Princess. She threw in the
occasional machete, tomahawk, and Viking hand-axe, and Gurkha kukri
for added imaginary havoc, but her target remained smiling
and unaffected. Her nipples were still pointing, even
though the studio was a bit on the warm side. She surmised
Danica had set the Studio thermostat a little high to encourage
that art-worthy sweat she'd mentioned. Also, apparently
Sam's nips didn't mind being photographed for
documentary purposes, the little traitors!
Meanwhile, Danica had climbed off the stool and was padding
towards the studio door (which required her to duck under the
right half of Sam's guy-ropes). "I'm going to get some
tea," she explained, then opened the door and paused in the
threshold. "I'd bring you back some coffee... but we don't
want to fill up your bladder, do we?"
And with that clever witticism, the blonde was gone—Click!—locking
the door behind her!
Sam scowled across the studio at the closed and locked door...
then heaved a well-gagged sigh, gave her bonds a quick,
frustrated squirm, then settled in to await Danica's
return. Tea-slurping bitch! she silently
fumed. Just you wait. You'll get yours, you,
|The Perils of CONTRACTING
|| Chapter 6
Meanwhile, downstairs in the Ridiculously
Overly-complicated Rack Room...
kept her opinions to herself during the ensuing action, saying
nothing. Instead, she expressed her dissatisfaction physically
by struggling and squirming as Nora and Kimiko forcibly divested
her of her sundress, underwear, and sandals! Gabby continued
resisting in stoic silence as Nora held her arms and Kimiko
lashed her in place to one of the Ridiculously
Overly-complicated Rack Mechanism's vertical support stanchions
with the coils of hemp rope they'd brought to the scene.
Either fortunately or by design, Kenzy enjoyed a nearly
unobstructed view of the floor show as her flaxen-haired nemesis
was stripped and bound. This was entertaining, of course,
but it became obvious that Gabby had been pulling her punches
during the entire process. She'd let herself get
stripped naked and tied up! Was all of this a farcical
melodrama being staged for Kenzy's benefit?
Yes. Obviously. (Maybe.)
In any case, the end result was Gabby Nordberg, naked, her back
against the cast iron stanchion, inescapably (albeit
aesthetically) bound in place, and with the great majority of
her frontal anatomy on full view! As for the details of
1. Gabby's right arm was raised, bent back at
the elbow, and bound against a diagonal cross-brace with a
cinched ladder-tie technique that encircled and lashed her
upper and lower arms together every few inches from her elbow
to her shoulder.
Gabby was totally helpless, and with her left armpit,
boobs, flat tummy, pussy, etc., on open display. She
squirmed, struggled, and tested her incredible bonds for several
seconds... then heaved a pitiful sigh and stopped. It was
clear the naked, fit, and curvaceous blonde was not happy.
2. Her right wrist was somewhere behind Gabby's neck,
shoulders, and the stanchion, but it was clear it had also
been lashed in place.
3. Her left arm was pulled behind her back and the
stanchion at the level of her waist, then lashed in place
somewhere out of of Kenzy's sight.
4. Gabby's torso was also bound (of course).
Doubled strands passed above, below, and between her
breasts in a crisscross manner. Additional strands yoked
her shoulders, encircled her waist, and pinned her left upper
arm against her side and the stanchion.
Everything was cinched in a tight horizontal and diagonal
matrix that pressed her body against the iron column.
5. Gabby's left leg was raised, bent at the knee, and
ladder-bound in the manner of her right arm; however, while
her right arm was completely immobilized, her left leg was
"free" to swing back and forth through a limited range.
Kenzy had no doubt Gabby's left ankle was bound to the back
stanchion in some manner, but it was also out of sight, like
her left wrist and hand.
6. Finally, Gabby's right leg was straight, vertical,
and lashed to the stanchion every five or six inches... all
the way down until the edge of the rack blocked Kenzy's view.
"Mrrrmpfh," the prisoner-of-the-stanchion whimpered.
Yes, Gabby had been gagged—of course she'd been
gagged—and in a manner that was technically simple but (for
Kenzy) elevated The Game to a whole new level! Either the
ventilated ball-gag currently plugging Kenzy's mouth was the
only dedicated damsel-silencing technology available in the
chamber, or Nora and Kimiko had deliberately decided to go
old-school while simultaneously upping the kinkiness factor!
First, Kimiko had crammed Gabby's panties into her mouth!
Then, apparently dissatisfied with the modest volume of Gabby's
crumpled undies, she'd expropriated Kenzy's workaday
bikini-panties from atop her boots, socks, shorts, and tank-top,
and crammed them in after Gabby's thong! This
required a great deal of careful prodding and tucking, which
Gabby had not appreciated. "Mrrrm!" Then,
while Nora helped by holding the greatly enhanced stuffing in
her cousin's bulging mouth with her right hand, Kimiko folded a
black, summer-weight hair-scarf into a narrow bandage, tied an
overhead knot in the middle, then deftly swapped it for Nora's
hand-gag and gave Gabby a tight cleave-gag that she
double-knotted at the nape of Gabby's neck under her now tousled
blond hair. To Kenzy's amusement (and approval) Gabby's
cheeks now resembled those of a chipmunk transporting a large
windfall of nuts back to its burrow for winter storage.
Gabby was quite thoroughly gagged!
In Kenzy's also gagged opinion... Gabby had never looked more
beautiful. Her fellow prisoner's skin was dimpled by her
twisted-hemp bondage, but none of the ropes looked like they
were excessively tight... not that Kenzy was a rope
bondage expert or anything. Also, the skin in question was
smooth, firm, and at least somewhat familiar with the sun.
Kenzy had never seen Gabby sunbathing out on the lawn (or
anywhere else for that matter), but the uniform nature of her
marginal tan and especially her lack of pale-pink boobs
and pubic triangle suggested she spent at least some time
intentionally soaking up rays. It was something for Kenzy
to investigate... when she wasn't naked, bound to an
Overly-complicated Rack, and ball-gagged.
"A wonderful job, Sensi," Nora gushed, then gave Kimiko
a courteous bow.
"Most kind," Kimiko responded, bowing back.
And with that, the Nordberg Matriarch and her financial manager
turned and left the chamber, closing and locking the door behind
Kenzy and Gabby stared at the closed door... turned their heads
and stared at each other... then back to the door... then back
to each other.
Well... that happened, Kenzy mused.
Several minutes of awkward silence followed. Both captives
had excellent views of each other's naked bodies and bondage
predicaments. Anatomically, that included their pussies,
inner thighs, pubic foliage (ginger in the case of Kenzy and
light-brown in the case of Gabby), boobs (semi-flattened and
rope-framed, respectively), and gagged faces (ball-gagged and
panty-gagged, respectively. Also, both of Kenzy's armpits
were on display, but only Gabby's left pit. Gabby's was
freshly shaved, whereas Kenzy's were showing a few days
growth. Likewise, in Gabby's opinion, Kenzy's legs could
also use a shave; however, the redhead's pits and gams were by
no means hairy, not by a long shot.
So... minutes passed in awkward (gagged) silence (as well
as surreptitious mutual appraisal). Both captives squirmed
and wiggled for comfort now and then—and it was for
comfort. The time for Courtesy Struggles had long since
Finally... Click! ...the door opened and
Nora and Kimiko returned.
Nora was pushing an elaborately carved Gothic-style tea cart,
the kind appropriate for a maid to serve refreshments upstairs
in one of the mansion's many parlors and sitting rooms. On
it was a complete Victorian tea service resting on a silver
tray, and next to it was a clear glass vessel with a handle and
spout cradled over a burning candle by an elegant iron
stand. Inside the vessel was some sort of amber liquid...
possibly oil? The cart's lower shelf held stacks of neatly
folded white towels.
Kimiko was also pushing a cart, but hers was a carrier for a
pair of folding chairs and a folding table.
Kenzy and Gabby watched as Nora pushed her cart close to the
rack while Kimiko deployed the café-style table and chairs,
making a cozy setting near the door. Next, Nora
carried the tea service to Kimiko's table... then returned to
her cart and its... oil warming apparatus?
Kenzy's nostrils flared. A pleasant, subtle, floral aroma
was making its presence known. Lavender?
Also... Rose? Kenzy decided the amber fluid
was almost certainly was some kind of oil... and she had the
sneaking (alarming) suspicion that it very well might be massage
oil. In any case, and it was almost certainly
the source of the floral bouquet.
Next, smiling sweetly, Nora lifted the vessel, poured a dollop
of oil onto her left palm, then replaced the vessel over the
flame and rubbed her hands together. And then...
Kenzy's oily suspicions were confirmed! The amber fluid was
massage oil, and Kenzy was getting a massage, whether she
wanted one or not, and Nora was her masseuse!
The smiling, beautiful, 50-something blonde's glistening hands
were now gliding over Kenzy's naked, stretched, and
immobilized tummy! Nora widened her gentle, sensual efforts...
and soon an ever growing portion of Kenzy's torso was also glistening...
then all of her torso... including Kenzy's
semi-flattened boobs, her hard nipples, her pale-pink armpits,
her prominent ribs, and her flat, stretched abdomen. Nora
replenished the oil on her hands... then continued enlarging her
efforts to include Kenzy's arms, followed by her legs, thighs
(lower and upper, outer and inner), and finally... Kenzy's
labia, mons pubis, and ginger curlies!
At the beginning of the "ordeal" Kenzy had seriously considered
forcing a vociferous protest through her ventilated
ball-gag, but found that her larynx was inexplicably
paralyzed. Shock? Fear? (No, not fear.)
Surprise? Amazement? Anyway, Kenzy remained silent,
as well as rigid in her bonds (which wasn't exactly a challenge,
given the degree of stretch imposed by the rack) and stoically
endured Nora's skilled, luxurious, and arguably sensual massage.
Kenzy decided she'd protest later... maybe. Also, why
not enjoy a nice massage? Just because she was
naked, bound, gagged, and stretched, that didn't mean she
couldn't enjoy a little tactile attention from a gorgeous older
woman, right? And it wasn't like Nora's hands were making
her horny or anything (especially her masseuse's light
caresses of her private anatomy). Kenzy Munro horny?
Aroused? Randy? No siree Bob! Not even
Besides, if anybody in the chamber was horny, it was Gabby
Nordberg. The naked, bound, and gagged blonde was staring
at Kenzy with her big blue eyes and she was clearly enjoying
herself. Okay, maybe she was just being a naked, bound,
and gagged villainess and was actually gloating, but then again,
Gabby's nipples were erect (like Kenzy's). At least they
Fortunately (or unfortunately), all involuntary (and erotic)
massages eventually come to an end, Still smiling sweetly,
Nora used a hand towel and a spritz of alcohol from a small
plastic spray-bottle to clean her hands, then joined Kimiko at
the café table (and damsel viewing venue), settled into the
second folding chair, and accepted a cup of tea from her smiling
Back on the rack, Kenzy remained naked, stretched, bound,
ball-gagged, and glistening with oil from her upper-arms to her
lower legs. Only her neck, gagged head, and toes were
"normal"... although her forehead may have been a
little sweaty. Oh-by-the-way, she noted Gabby also had a
slight sweat-glimmer at various locations. Kenzy
considered this supporting evidence for her Gabby-is-a-Horndog
"And now, Kenzy," Nora purred after a second sip of tea, "I
think we've established that you're more than willing
to participate in our family games; however, I insist that all
such participation must be fully regulated." She
shifted her smile to Kimiko. "Sensi, are you willing to
take on another student?"
Kimiko sipped her tea before answering. "That
will be up to Kenzy," she intoned, then nodded at Gabby.
"I will delegate at least part of her instruction to
Gabrielle... but only if Kenzy agrees." She paused to sip
her tea. "The same goes for your adorable little sister,
Kenzy, although in Samantha's case I will rely on Danica
for assistance." She smiled at Nora. "I believe
your daughter is up to the challenge."
"My Princess is growing up," Nora purred, then sipped her
"Your Princess is grown up," Kimiko politely corrected,
"and like the rest of us, she will continue to
grow." She finished the last of her tea, placed her cup
and saucer on the table, then stood.
Nora smiled broadly, finished her tea as well, then also
gracefully stood. "Well, please consider my offer," she
said to Kenzy, then bowed to Kimiko. "You are most
generous to accept such a burden, Sensi," she intoned.
"Enough drama," Kimiko laughed. Then, together with Nora,
the pair turned and strolled from the chamber. The door
closed behind them—Click!—and was locked.
Kenzy tugged on her bonds (weakly) and stared at the back of the
door. I thought I was already playing The
Game, she thought. Apparently, once Kimiko is
involved, things become... formal. She shifted her
gaze to Gabby, her fellow helpless, bound, and gagged
prisoner... the beautiful blonde lashed to the support
stanchion... the one gagged with her own and Kenzy's
panties. Kenzy frowned. I expect to get those
back, laundered and folded, she telepathically scolded
Gabby, referring to her panties.
Meanwhile, Gabby was weakly testing her bonds (in a seductive
manner?) and staring back at Kenzy. Were her blue eyes
smiling? It was hard to be sure with a gag involving that
volume of stuffing.
Kenzy shifted her gaze to the ceiling. So... do I want
to play this Game I thought I was already playing?
She mulled over the offer for several seconds... and continued
glistening with oil. (The glistening was compulsory, of
course.) I guess I better, she finally decided, if
nothing else than to make sure nothing 'terrible' happens to
the brat. The brat in question was Sam, of
course. Kenzy would do anything for her kid
sister, even things like letting Gabby-the-horndog bind her to
an overly-complicated rack—letting Nora give her an involuntary
bondage-massage—and letting Kimiko-sama sign her up for an
advanced kinkiness course without having read the syllabus.
Her decision made, Kenzy settled in to wait for somebody to
unlock the door and release her so she could find Sam and inform
the brat that she'd signed her up for a course as
well. As for Gabby... Kenzy gazed at the smiling
(maybe), naked, bound, gagged, and sweating but definitely not
glistening blonde. No, Gabby could find somebody else
to untie her. Gabby was on her own.
Perils of CONTRACTING