by Van © 2020
The next morning (Saturday)...
Skye slept soundly... not
counting her many disturbing (and highly intriguing) dreams...
or were they nightmares?
It didn't really matter, because when she woke up, she found she
couldn't remember any of them... except for one, the
one dream that she could remember. In it, a beautiful
goddess gently rolled her naked body onto her stomach (and
boobs)... then gently unbuckled and removed Skye's fist-cuffs,
box-tie-binder, body-harness, and the ball-gag dangling around
her neck. So... she was naked and free! What
Anyway, the second day of Lacey's Dominatrix Demonstration
dawned with Skye totally nude and sprawled in the rumpled sheets
of her hostess' bed, and not bound and/or gagged in any
way! Obviously, the liberating-goddess-dream hadn't been a
dream at all, but one of those peculiar half-experienced,
semi-conscious, near-waking experiences, and the goddess in
question had been Lacey.
Anyway, given all that Skye had been through in the course of
the previous day, she figured she should have been too
nervous and/or scared to sleep... but she had slept...
and her slumber had been... refreshing? Go figure.
Skye rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, causing the
covers to fall away from her freckled body. She then
stretched and yawned (in a very cliché manner, but
didn't care), and looked around, surveying Lacey's bedroom by
the light of the new day. Her hostess (captor) was nowhere
to be seen; however, sporadic wet noises were coming from behind
the closed door of the attached bathroom. Obviously, Lacey
was inside, getting herself ready for a new day of binding and
gagging poor, innocent Skye Gilroy.
And speaking of light, early morning, low angle sunlight was
streaming through the bay window across the bedroom. Skye
slid from between the sheets, padded over to look outside, and
was rewarded with the very pretty vista of most of Lacey's
backyard, including a large, naturalistic water feature with bog
and floating plants, heaps of mossy, skull-sized rocks, a few
strategically spaced mini-boulders, and a small waterfall.
Skye thought she caught a flash of orange and white under the
water, so it might be an actual koi pond! "Cool," she
muttered, then turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening.
It was Lacey, of course, and she was gloriously nude and
spectacularly gorgeous, just like she'd been last night when
they went to bed. "Good morning, Skye," Lacey beamed as
she padded to the bed and pulled on her black silk robe still
draped across the foot of the bed. "Did you sleep well?"
"Uh, yeah," Skye responded. "Thanks... and... good
morning." Skye realized her left hand was covering her
ginger pubic thatch (and pussy) and she was pressing her right
forearm against her boobs, creating a modicum of maidenly
modesty. Skye blushed, quickly placed her arms at her
sides, and clenched her hands into "casual" fists. It was
a little late to be concerned about modesty.
"Delightful," Lacey chuckled quietly, then strode to the bedroom
door, tightening the robe's sash as she went. "When you're
ready, meet me in the kitchen for breakfast." And then...
she was gone... leaving a Lacey-sized gorgeousness-void in the
Skye heaved a sigh... then headed for the bathroom. Great,
she thought, I'm 'delightful.' Can't wait to tell
the gang. They'll be sooo thrilled.
She decided she didn't need a shower, but did need to
empty her bladder, wash her face, and brush her hair, so she did
Returning to the bedroom, Skye contemplated the technical
question of whether or not she was "ready for breakfast."
She was certainly ready to eat. The issue was
clothing. She'd arrived at Lacey's Lair wearing a very
pretty summer dress, stylish sandals, and underwear, all of
which had been stripped from her body by Mistress to expedite
the ongoing demonstration. And Lacey had carried them into
her walk-in closet... and the closet in question was right over
there. She supposed she could rummage around
until she found them... but... was it the right thing to
do? A dominatrix had stripped her naked, so wouldn't it be
rude to un-naked herself without permission?
Etiquette-wise, it was definitely a gray area.
Maybe Lacey has a second silk robe, Skye
considered, staring at the walk-in closet door. The
problem, of course, was that even if another robe was available,
it would fit her 5' 2" body like a silk tarpaulin. I'd
look ridiculous. Better naked than ridiculous, Skye
decided, padded out the bedroom door, and made her way through
the house to the kitchen without difficulty. By this time
she had at least a working knowledge of the basic floor plan of
Lacey smiled when Skye entered the kitchen (or possibly she'd
never stopped smiling). The sleeves of her robe
were rolled up and her hair pulled back and held in a loose
ponytail by a plastic clip, one of those things used to reseal
open bags of potato chips. A few strands of Lacey's
raven-black hair had either failed to be captured or had escaped
the clip and were dangling loosely in what Skye considered to be
a rather charming dishabille. Mistress looked
very... domestic... and hot.
"Coffee?" Lacey offered, indicating the single-cup coffeemaker
resting on the counter. "Reusable pods are in the cabinet
above, and coffee is in the canister."
"Thanks." Lacey hadn't asked why she was still naked, so
apparently Skye had dodged the clothing bullet and hadn't made a
serious fashion faux pas. She used the little
plastic scoop in the coffee canister to charge one of the pods,
then placed it in the coffeemaker, positioned the very pretty
stoneware mug Lacey had thoughtfully placed on the counter next
to the coffeemaker, and hit the glowing "brew" button.
While steaming, ultra-fresh, very fragrant coffee filled the
mug, Skye watched Lacey chop various vegetables and transfer
them to a bowl. She recognized a carrot and some green
onions. Everything else was... leafy and green. The
chopping board was far enough away that she couldn't make out
the botanical details, but close enough that she could detect
the aroma of fresh herbs.
As usual, Skye's first sip of morning coffee was absolutely
yummy, even though she was naked and worrying about what
was on Lacey's post-breakfast dominatrix demonstration
agenda. Meanwhile, Lacey was cracking eggs into the bowl
and adding splashes of at least two different dark elixirs from
small glass bottles. Skye strongly suspected one of the
liquids was soy sauce, but the other... wasn't.
"This is what I call my Americanized tamagoyaki omelette,"
"Uh... okay." Skye watched as her hostess turned on the
burner under a wok-like frying pan... waited for it to heat
up... then added a little cooking oil, followed by a dash of a
second, slightly darker oil.
"Sesame oil," Lacey explained, noting Skye's interest. "I
studied in Japan for five years."
Skye nodded, then her eyes widened. Dare I ask?
she wondered, then decided she did dare. "Kinbaku?"
"Kinbaku-bi," Lacey confirmed. "I love Japan.
It's absolutely beautiful. Green mountains, ancient
forests, Kyoto, Kurashiki, Otaru, Hakone... all
beautiful. And once I learned enough Japanese, I had a ton
of fun. I may retire there someday."
Skye was impressed. "You speak Japanese?
Cool." Also... Kinbaku studies! Super-cool!
"I'm rusty from disuse," Lacey purred, "but... Hai,
sou shi masu."
"Cool," Skye reiterated. She assumed Lacey's answer has
been to the affirmative.
The tamago-whatever omelette was delicious, but Skye was
aware that every yummy bite brought her closer to whatever was
going to happen after breakfast. She knew she ought
to be terrified and/or paralyzed with fear, and on one level she
was; but mostly, she was excited. It was like when
she was squirming in her chair waiting for a really scary horror
movie to start, or waiting in line to ride a world-class roller
coaster. Go figure!
There was also the issue of work. Skye was supposed to
be getting ready to report to Plumeria for a full day
of providing world-class customer service to the fashion-starved
masses. Of course, Lacey had said she'd already called her
mom and secured permission for her to play hooky, and she
believed her... but she probably ought to call her mom herself
to confirm that everything was copacetic. But
that would imply she doubted Lacey's word, and she could imagine
how her side of the hypothetical phone conversation might go.
'Hi Mom. Just confirming that it's okay for me to take the
day off so Lacey can tie me up and maybe do kinky stuff to me
down in her dungeon. See ya tomorrow... or maybe
Monday.' Yeah, that'll work. Best to just let
things play out and ask for forgiveness later... if I need it.
Finally, the food consumed and cleanup of the kitchen
accomplished... it was time, meaning time for the resumption of
the dreaded dominatrix demonstration.
completing her morning toilette, Pallavi had spent the start of
her day off from work accomplishing four things:
(1) Dressing herself in
bikini-thong panties, black sports-bra, dark-gray, calf-length
running-pants, olive-drab V-neck T-shirt, anklet socks, and a
pair of broken in and very comfortable trail-runners.
(2) Quickly vacuuming the first
floor of the house she shared with her mother. (She'd
vacuum the second floor on her next day off. It
was one of her assigned chores.)
(3) Eating breakfast (Coffee and
a lightly buttered toasted English muffin with sweet cherry
(4) Growing increasingly
impatient for Harper to call and give her the address that had
swallowed up Skye, meaning the place her BFF had gone to make
her delivery... and had never returned! (Not to be overly
dramatic or anything).
Finally, she emptied the dust-canister, plugged the vacuum
cleaner in to recharge, buckled on her cute little black
waist-pack with all her essentials (in lieu of a purse), and was
ready to go. Unfortunately, she still didn't know where
Suddenly... Strum-strum-strum... Her iPhone
began playing the "Harp" ringtone she'd cleverly assigned to
Harper. She pulled the phone out of the pack and answered.
Pallavi: "It's about time."
Harper: "Hello to you too."
Pallavi: "Seriously, what ya been
doin' that's more important that rescuin' Skye? Assuming
she needs rescuin', of course."
Harper: "Chill. I'll text
you the address, but meanwhile, does the name Lacey Monjeau
ring any bells?"
Tall? Killer bod? Forty-something with a fair
complexion? Quirky smile? Black hair? Ice-blue
eyes? Favors dark 3or neutral earth-tones and has
excellent taste? No."
Harper: "I've never waited on her
either, but she's a regular. Anywhere, that's where Red
Harper: "Wait. Don't do
Pallavi: "Stupid? Me?
Harper: "Goodbye, Pallavi.
And if you get arrested for trespassing and being a peeping
pervert and need bail money, don't call."
Pallavi: "Thanks. I'd call
Mom, anyway. Bye."
Pallavi pocketed her iPhone and finished her excellent
breakfast. Harper's text message with the Monjeau address
arrived, and it was finally time to hit the road and do
some serious snooping!
Skye had to
admit it was a very nice greenhouse or conservatory or
fern-parlor or whatever the hell they call such places. It
was full of all kinds of green plants, shrubs, and dwarf trees,
and fit perfectly into the understated Victorian
decor/architecture of Lacey's Lair. All things considered,
it was very pleasant, the perfect place to kick back
and relax. Unfortunately, relaxation was not an option for
poor, innocent Skye Gilroy. Why? At the moment, she
Skye was situated in the approximate center of the greenhouse,
surrounded on all sides by greenery. She was still naked
(no surprise) and was standing up on her toes and the balls of
her feet with the feet in question about 30" apart.
Her arms were raised with her arms folded behind her head, her
wrists crossed, more-or-less at the nape of her neck, and she
would remain that way until further notice. Lacey's
conditioned hemp ropes lashed her ankles, lower thighs, waist,
upper-torso (above and below her boobs), and lashed her
upper-arms to her bound wrists.
In addition, horizontal strands stretched to either side and
linked her ankle and thigh-ropes to a pair of support
columns. Perpendicular to the ankle and thigh strands,
more horizontal strands linked her wrist and elbow-bonds to a
third support column. Lacey had carefully adjusted the
ropes to bend Skye's spine just enough to keep her neck vertical
and her folded arms pitched back a few degrees, thus preventing
any long term neck discomfort.
Skye was "appreciative." It was very thoughtful of her
hostess/captor to torture her with an insidious bondage
predicament but make sure she didn't develop a crick in her
Finally, vertical strands linked her to a steel ring dangling
from a wrought iron rafter directly overhead, further
stabilizing her situation.
And oh-by-the-way, in addition, there was an egregious
enhancement to her predicament. With careful
precision, Lacey had positioned a wrought iron plant stand
between Skye's legs, placed a small potted plant on the stand,
then added several terracotta clay saucers to adjust its
height. And the plant was a succulent or cactus, maybe an
agave or sword-plant. Skye didn't know the thing's name,
as she was neither a botanist nor a gardener, but that was
immaterial. What was material, however, was that
the thing had spiky leaves, all of which terminated in
long, needle-sharp, wicked thorns! All things
considered, the herbaceous pincushion was perfectly poised to
prick her pussy and inner thighs if she came down off her toes!
However, Lacey had carefully arranged the ropes to prevent Skye
from relaxing her stance, so one might say Skye's bondage was
protecting her from the thorns. The prickly plant
was an empty threat. But as the saying goes, it's the
thought that counts. Mistress Monjeau had not only
demonstrating her rigging expertise, but had been a teasing
bitch by pretending to expose Skye's crotch to prickly
plant peril. It had added an element of theatrical
evil to the tableau. Skye was impressed... and more
than a little ticked off. This was mean.
Skye would have given her hostess a piece of her mind, but Lacey
had announced that "important" housekeeping chores required her
attention, then had padded from the greenhouse. How
rude! Also, as the proverbial icing on the
proverbial cake, before leaving she'd announced she was going to
demonstrate a "traditional Japanese gag" for Skye's benefit,
then had done so. This required three identical strips of
soft, white linen cloth, each about six-inches wide and
three-feet in length.
The first strip was folded lengthwise, a large knot tied in the
center, the knot thrust in Skye's pouting mouth, and the ends
tied tightly together at the nape of her neck, under
her long, ginger hair. The result was a knotted
cleave-gag, and arguably a pretty decent gag all on its
own. Were Skye's bound wrists in the way? Yes, but
as a rigger, Lacey was that good!
The second cloth strip was folded once, then tied as a very
tight over-the-mouth (OTM) gag, covering the knotted-cleave-gag
and Skye's mouth. Obviously, Skye was sufficiently gagged,
The third strip wasn't folded at all and was positioned over the
first two gags, covering Skye's lower face from just above her
adorably cute button nose to just under her perfect chin.
There was no convenient mirror, so Skye had no idea whether the
the different layers of her compound gag were visible, but one
thing was for sure: individually and collectively, the entire
shebang was damn tight! Maybe Lacey could make out
the outline of the underlying layers as she'd paused to gloat
before abandoning Skye to her languishing fate, or maybe
not. It really didn't matter.
Skye had always thought the "detective" or "bandit mask" gags
she'd laughed at while watching old movies looked really
lame, but then, almost all cinematic gags were
way too loose and quite obviously ineffective. Skye's
Traditional Japanese Gag, however, was anything but
ineffective. Skye had to admit, Mistress was skilled,
experienced, and inventive. Elaborate and
inescapable bondage, effective gag, and Perilously Poised Potted
Plant for added psychological effect! Very impressive.
Also, Lacey was hot for an older woman. And as for why
Skye kept thinking about that, she had no idea.
And then, Lacey returned to the scene of her crime (meaning her
demonstration). By Skye's reckoning, she'd been gone less
then an hour. In fact, Lacey had only been gone something
like... forty minutes? Anyway, she was back, and had
changed out of her black silk robe and into a pair of stylish,
skintight, slightly-worn, black jeans and a black
tank-top. Her feet were bare and her gleaming black hair
loose about her shoulders. The issue of underwear was
unresolved because while the jeans were tight, no panty
lines were visible. In Skye's expert fashion opinion, add
a pair of Doc Martin boots and Lacey would look very... Middle-aged-Goth.
Not that that was an actual thing, of course.
Anyway, Lacey gracefully settled into a wrought iron chair with
comfy-looking, hunter-green cushions, crossed her denim-clad
legs, and smiled at her naked, bound, and gagged guest.
Skye wiggled and squirmed in her bonds (carefully, even though
her bonds ensured she was unable to offend the plant between her
splayed legs) and stared daggers at her hostess. She'd
already executed the expected/obligatory Courtesy Struggle
immediately after Lacey had crafted her current predicament and
prior to being abandoned to her Prickly Plant Peril, so her
current bout of squirming was a naked demonstration of her
resentment and profound disappointment at being subjected to
Lacey's unnecessary cruelty. To be fair, Lacey's ropes
were doing a stellar job of maintaining the minuscule air gap
between her inner thighs and pussy and the threatening thorns,
but Skye found she was in an increasingly unfair mood.
"It's a pity you can't fully appreciate the finer details of my
rigging efforts," Lacey purred, still smiling, "especially when
the important action is taking place behind your back."
Skye continued her petulant glare... but had to admit her
hostess/captor had raised a valid point.
"There's also the issue of evaluating whether or not you're
effectively absorbing my lessons," Lacey continued.
Lessons? So now she's teaching me? Ha! Skye's
"angry" glare faded and she heaved a well-muffled sigh. Of
course she's teaching you, doofus. And then... Skye
had a wicked thought. Eyes wide, she wiggled in
her bonds and focused on her teacher. "Mrrrpfh!"
Lacey cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Mrrrpfh! Skye reiterated.
Still smiling, Lacey rose (gracefully) from her chair and padded
behind Skye's back.
Skye felt Lacey part her hair, then the three knots of her three
cloth gags melted away... first the bandit-gag... then the
OTM-gag... and finally, the knotted-cleave-gag. She
swallowed and licked her lips as Lacey reappeared, padded back
to her chair, placed the three white cloth strips on a nearby
table, and then (gracefully) resumed her seat.
"Well?" Lacey purred, her gorgeous smile never wavering.
Skye swallowed, suddenly a little less sure of herself. Best
to take the direct approach, she decided, stuck her
courage to the sticking, as Lady Macbeth had so famously
suggested, and blurted out her spectacularly brilliant solution
to their problem. "I can tie you up!"
Lacey's pale-blue eyes popped wide, then her head tilted back
and she laughed, loud and long enough to make Skye blush and
resume glaring. "Oh, darling," Lacey chuckled when she was
finally able to speak. "How absolutely priceless!
Tie me up. Wonderful!"
Skye continued blushing and glaring. "Ya gotta admit it
would work," she huffed.
"Well, of course," Lacey purred, "but it's not gonna happen."
Skye heaved a sigh (this time gag-free), then had another brainstorm
and her lips curled in an evil smile. "I got
it! It's Pallavi's day off! I can call and invite
her over, then use her to show you my stuff... so to
speak." (As Skye was naked and had been for about twenty
hours, Lacey was quite familiar with her 'stuff.') "I
mean my rigging skills and how well I've been absorbing your,
uh, demonstration." She squirmed in her bonds for
Lacey smiled at her young guest for several seconds before
speaking. "And you think you could talk her into it?"
"I know I could," Skye nodded, smiling her most adorable
and sincere smile and blinking her sparkling green eyes.
Considerable time passed.
At least fifteen seconds.
Finally, Lacey rose from her chair (gracefully). "Well, I
suppose it's worth a try. Care for some coffee?"
"Yes please!" Skye answered. Her post-gag mouth was
dry. And on general principles, Skye was always up
for more caffeine.
"Okay," Lacey responded, then turned and padded away towards the
interior of the house.
"You could untie me first!" Skye suggested in a
not-at-all-desperate attempt to be heard before it was too late.
"And what would be the fun in that?" Lacey chuckled, weaving her
way among the plants without pause.
"None, I suppose," Skye was forced to admit. And then...
her mistress/teacher was gone.
being a particularly sneaky, nosy, or furtive person, Pallavi
was proud of the progress of her reconnaissance mission
to check out Lacey Monjeau's abode and possibly rescue her best
After entering the address in the map function of her iPhone,
she'd carefully studied the cartographic terrain. She then
formulated a cunning, foolproof, four-phase plan:
PHASE 1. Drive past the abode in
question and "case the joint."
PHASE 2. Find a place to park her
car where it wouldn't be ticketed and/or towed away.
PHASE 3. Scout the residence on
foot, in a stealthy, ninja-like manner. This was why she'd
dressed in subdued earth-tones. Wearing actual camouflage,
either military or commercial, might have been more effective,
but was out of the question, both for fashion reasons and because
she didn't own any.
PHASE 4. There was no PHASE
4. Pallavi would have to see how PHASE 3 panned out, then
play it by ear.
PHASE 1 was accomplished without her being noticed by dog
walkers, joggers, Lacey's neighbors, or the police (as far as
she could tell). Also, she located a small public
park/picnic area conveniently located about a block and a half
from her target and parked in its sparsely occupied lot, thereby
satisfying PHASE 2.
It was time to commence PHASE 3! Pallavi carefully locked
her car, then began a series of stretching exercises, as if she
was using the park as the starting point for a perfectly
innocent jog. And then... she jogged, not in the park but
down the tree-shaded streets of Lacey's neighborhood.
Jogging was a good cover. She'd just left the parking lot
and stepped onto the sidewalk when her phone starting producing
the mildly irritating "Constellation" ringtone she'd assigned to
Skye. She's probably calling to complain about not
being rescued yet, Pallavi sighed, then extracted the
phone from her waist-pack and answered.
Skye: "Hey. It's your day
Pallavi: "Uh, yeah. Why?"
Skye: "You need to come over
here. It'll be really cool."
Pallavi: "Okay, but where's
'here,' and what will be cool?"
Skye: "Lacey Monjeau's
house. I'll text you the address as soon as I hang up, and
it's a surprise. See ya soon, and dress for exercise."
Pallavi: "Lacey who?" (It
was best to play it cool.)
Skye: "Lacey Monjeau? The
customer? You know her. Anyway, don't ring the front
doorbell. Come around to the backyard. We'll be
Skye: "Yoga. Bye!"
Pallavi: "Okay, but you have to
tell me more than 'it's a surprise' and 'we'll be doin'
yoga.' ... Skye? ... Red?
... Red!" Skye had hung up.
Pallavi glared at the uncaring iPhone, then heaved a
sigh and began the short walk back to her car. "I didn't
say 'yes,' you dweeb," she huffed. How
inconsiderate! I should leave her there to rot and
not rescue her freckled ass, she fumed
silently. It would serve her right, and what a waste
of a flawlessly initiated reconnaissance and rescue mission.
As she was opening her car door, the phone still in her hand gleeped
with the I've-got-a-message signal and Pallavi found herself
staring at the promised address. By amazing coincidence,
it was the exact same address Harper had already provided.
Pallavi decided it wouldn't do to arrive immediately, so she
carefully backed out of her space, eased onto the main road, and
went in search of a convenience store or fast-food joint where
she could get something to drink. Maybe a milkshake...
a small one... strawberry... or maybe blueberry if they've got
it. Passion fruit is too much to hope for.
| Chapter 8