by Van ©2019

Chapter 6

Dramatis Personæ


Beebe regained consciousness in absolute darkness.  The air was hot and humid.  Tropical... with a hint of saltwater.  She was naked, bound, gagged, and lying on her side on a hard, wooden surface.  Beebe struggled weakly... then with greater vigor as her head cleared.

Doctor Bondage had a great deal of experience with all forms of bondage, but all of it was in the role of kidnapper/captor.  Beebe Bonde, on the other hand, was experienced with both sides of the equation.  Bondage-wise, Beebe had done just about everything imaginable to Suki with rope, leather, and steel, and her mischievous little playmate had returned the favor.  Despite the inky darkness, Beebe was able to "diagnose" her condition, thanks to tactile and auditory clues.

Her costume was total nudity, not counting her bonds.  Her hair was pulled back and plaited in a single tight braid.

The bonds in question were:
That was it, and it was enough.  Beebe couldn't be absolutely certain she had all the details correct, of course, but she was ball-gagged, armbinder-bound, hobbled, and her captors had deployed mini-padlocks, probably for purposes of dramatic overkill.  With her fingers and hands encased and pressed together, she certainly wasn't going to be unbuckling any buckles, whether they were secured with miniature padlocks or not.

Beebe squirmed and rolled on the hard surface, expanding her exploration of her environment.  The collar chain complicated matters, but she quickly deduced she was inside some sort of cage, probably with iron bars.  It wasn't a tiny cage, but neither was it what she would call roomy.  Eventually, Beebe gathered enough data to deduce that the base of the cage was about four-feet by four-feet.  The cage's height was still an open issue, but Beebe felt no desire to struggle to her feet to try and settle the question.

Time passed.

Beebe sweated... and drooled... and waited.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice.


Beebe smiled around her ball-gag.  Make that a familiar, ball-gag-muffled voice.  The mewling inquiry/complaint was followed by the frenzied rattling of chains and mini-padlocks as her unseen companion explored her condition.  It was Suki, apparently waking to find herself similarly bound, gagged, and caged.  Were Beebe's partner's bonds identical to her own in every way?  Was her partner also naked?  Probably.  Maybe.

"Mrrrpfh," Beebe mewled, then shook her head, rattling her collar chain.  "Settle down, Suki," was the message.

"Mrrrf?" ("Beebe?")

"Mrrrfh."  ("Yes.  I'm over here.")

"Mrrf."  ("Dammit!")

"Mrrr."  ("Indeed.")

Suddenly, they heard a key rattling in a lock.  Then, a door opened on oil-hungry hinges and a yellow-white glow flooded the space from old fashioned industrial lighting fixtures dangling overhead.

Beebe blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust.  Actually, the light was bright only in comparison to total darkness, but was more than enough for Bebee to visually confirm that she was, indeed, in a cage, its door was secured with a large, antique padlock, and her bonds, what she could see of them, were brown leather with a distressed finish and bronze hardware.  The hobble-chain was black, hand-forged iron.  A glance through the cage bars confirmed that Suki was inside a cage of her own and her bonds were identical.

Meanwhile, a pair of women had entered what Beebe decided to call the "Cage Room."  She counted a total of eight cages, all identical and all something like 4' x 4' x 6'.  There were four cages on either side, with a generous aisle between.  Only Beebe and Suki's cages were occupied.  As for the women not naked, bound, gagged, and caged...
Annie Wersching
On the left was a beautiful, 40-something redhead with freckles, green eyes, and a trim, fit, feminine figure.  She was wearing... some sort of costume.  Specifically:
Oh-by-the-way, a brown leather riding crop dangled from her right wrist.  A memsahib from the heyday of the British Raj?  A European aristocrat on safari?  Beebe decided "villainess in a Tarzan movie" more or less captured the redhead's vibe.  And speaking of Tarzan...
Elisha Cuthbert
On the right was... a jungle-girl!

She was in her late twenties or early thirties and was strikingly beautiful, a real Nordic/Germanic princess.  Her hair was straight, blond, and cropped in a short pageboy.  It suited her.  Her eyes were an icy blue and her skin smooth, with a rich tan.  Her figure was slender and athletic, like a dancer or an acrobat, with defined muscles and full (but not overly full) breasts.  Clearly, she was in exquisite shape but was not a muscular gym rat.

Her costume was a "primitive," skimpy string-bikini of pale, almost white chamois that left very little to the imagination.  The bikini's dangling strings and ragged margins were decorated with beads that, on closer look, appeared to be polished jewels, precious stones, and exotic seashells.  A sheath knife in a brown leather sheath was strapped to her right thigh, brown leather bracers were laced around her wrists, and an anklet with more jewels and shells graced her left ankle.  Her feet were bare.

Yes, the jungle-girl was stunning.  Beebe was impressed.  Beebe wanted to tie her up and have her way with her.  Unfortunately, at the moment, Dr. Bondage wasn't in a position to have her way with anyone.  Also...  What the hell is going on?

"Dr. Bonde,"  The redhead purred, smiling through the bars at Beebe's nude, bound, and gagged form, "allow me to introduce myself.  I'm Dr. Edith Stanton.  Welcome to The Island."

The jungle-girl cleared her throat.

Still smiling, Dr. Stanton indicated her fellow non-prisoner with a graceful flip of the wrist.  "And this is Lizette La Roque, the daughter of our employer, Petra La Roque."

Petra La Roque?  Petra La Roque the ultra-rich fashion mogul?  It was an open secret that Petra La Roque was not only a billionaire, but was kinky, in the way Beebe Bonde and Suki were kinky.  Rumor had it she had a private resort catering to an exclusive, filthy rich, like-minded clientele where they indulged their deepest bondage-related fantasies—a sort of Bondage Disneyland.  It was somewhere in the Caribbean, and...  Oh...  'The Island.'  Also... 'Our employer?'

Lizette was also smiling.  "Dr. Bonde, you've been a very bad girl," she purred, "and on The Island... bad girls are punished... and very bad girls are punished quite severely."

While Beebe and Suki exchanged gagged, mildly distressed expressions, Edith stepped forward and used a large, antique key to unlock Beebe and Suki's cages.  They were "helped" to their hobbled feet, and Lizette attached the terminal link of Suki's collar-chain to the back of Beebe's collar.  Then, Edith took a firm grip on the end of Beebe's chain and led the captives from the "Cage Room."

They appeared to be in a wooden warehouse of open frame construction with slat walls.  Exposed trusses supported a corrugated steel roof.  Stacks of wooden crates and barrels were everywhere, and a group of eight women, all clothed only in ragged loincloths, were loading some of them into the back of a medium-sized truck.  The female stevedores' ankles were shackled and their necks locked in iron collars.  All were in their twenties or thirties, and represented just about every skin tone and hair color on the planet.

The loading was happening under the supervision of a thirty-something woman dressed in what could only be called a pirate costume: thigh boots with turned down tops, a loincloth of vertically striped cloth, an open, white cotton shirt with billowing sleeves (a genuine "Poofy Pirate Shirt") with the sleeves rolled up and the tails tied together in front, baring her midriff and showing significant cleavage.  She was also wearing a bandana tied over her loose, black hair, and a wide leather belt with a holstered pistol on one side and a coiled bullwhip on the other.  If forced to guess, Beebe would say the pirate/supervisor was Mexican or Central American.  She was in excellent shape (like her charges) and quite attractive (also like her charges).

The pirate gave Lizette a smile and a casual, two-fingered salute as she passed, and Lizette nodded in return.

The truck being loaded was something like a scaled-up Model-T Ford truck with wire-spoke wheels but modern-looking tires.  The front cab was open and Beebe managed a quick glance at the steering wheel, floor pedals, and dashboard as they passed.  The lack of a clutch suggested an automatic transmission, and while everything looked antique, she strongly suspected it was a style statement, not a lack of modern engineering.  Curious, she thought.

They left the warehouse and stepped out onto a wooden dock.

 Chapter 6

The position of the sun suggested mid-morning.  Turquoise saltwater lapped around the dock's pilings and an abundance of noisy gulls wheeled and turned in a cloudless, cerulean sky.  The air was humid and hot and the sun on their exposed skin even hotter.  Beebe turned her head and beheld white sand beaches, waving coconut palms, and a lush green forest climbing the slopes of rugged hills towards a spine of central peaks.

"There are currently three main venues on The Island," Stanton lectured as they continued down the dock towards a cluster of wooden sheds on the shore.  Stanton gestured to their right and Beebe and Suki's eyes widened at the sight of a large, formidable stone fortress, complete with cannon emplacements, crenelated battlements, and soaring towers.  "That's the 'Pirate Queen's Castle,' of course."

Of course, Beebe thought.

"Every castle has dungeons and torture chambers," Edith continued, "and the PQC is no exception.  And they're quite well-equipped, I assure you."

"Most of the furnishings are traditional, but some are products of my mother's fervent imagination," Lizette added.  "I've also made a few contributions."

"The castle started out as a traditional pirate lair," Edith said, "but lately, things have started drifting in the Steam Punk direction."  She glanced over her shoulder at Beebe.  "I noticed you checking out the 'steam-powered' truck being loaded in the warehouse.  Actually, like all the motorized transportation on The Island, it's electric, but no expense was spared making it look like something out of a techno-fantasy novel."

"We also have other methods of getting around," Lizette purred.

They'd arrived at the end of the dock... and Beebe's eyes popped wide, again.

She found herself staring at a two-wheeled cart with a single bench seat, and especially at the pair of women hitched to the cart.  Suki was also impressed.

The women were classic "pony-girls," naked but for the brown leather knee-boots laced on their feet, the corset-like upper body harnesses that pinned their folded and leather-encased arms, hands, and fingers behind their backs, and the bridles caging their heads and keeping rubber bits clutched between their teeth.

The "ponies" were nearly identical in appearance.  Both had brown hair dangling in single braids down their backs, tan skin, and lithe, athletic bodies.  They glared at Lizette as the party from the warehouse approached.  The smiling jungle-girl stepped forward, cupped the left-hand pony's right breast in her left hand, the right-hand pony's left breast in her right, and gave both a gentle squeeze.

"As I told you earlier," Lizette said, obviously for Beebe and Suki's benefit, "you've both been very bad girls."  She smiled into the attractive, bit-gagged, and drooling faces of the matched pair of pony-girls and continued kneading their breasts.  "There are many ways to punish bad girls while at the same time making them... useful."

"Also," Edith added, "some of Petra's ultra-rich friends pay to have troublesome employees or embarrassing relatives serve tours as 'Island Helpers," whether they've been 'bad' or not."  She led Beebe and Suki to the rear of the cart, secured the terminal link of Beebe's collar-chain to a hitch/clamp, then knelt and removed the chains hobbling their ankles.

Meanwhile, Lizette stopped playing with the glowering pony-girls' breasts, unhitched their reins from the hitching post, and climbed onto the bench.

"Anyway," Edith said as she gave Beebe's chain a tug to confirm it was securely attached to the cart, "the PQC is one venue, but we're going someplace else, to my domain."  The smiling redhead then stepped around the right wheel and settled onto the bench on Lizette's right.

Beebe looked back at Suki, who blinked in confused distress (but not alarm), then turned back as Lizette clicked her tongue and the pony-girls stepped off in perfect unison.  Obviously, they were well-trained and felt compelled to perform their servile duties with due diligence.  The snap of the buggy-whip in Lizette's right hand may have also had something to do with it.

They left the dock area and entered the dappled shade of a sandy track paralleling the beach.  The cart had no difficulty negotiating the white sand underfoot.  Obviously, Beebe realized, the roadbed was compacted and stabilized in some manner.  It was more-or-less a long strip of sandstone under an inch or two of loose sand.

The pony-girls continued their clomping journey, followed by the rolling cart with its jungle-girl driver and memsahib passenger, followed by Beebe, who was followed by Suki.
  So far, The Island was a very nice place... if you were into tropical heat, lush foliage, azure skies, humid, salt-tinged air, and the occasional hysterically squawking, brightly colored bird flitting through the branches overhead.  There was the issue of being naked, bound, and gagged in leather, and being chained by the collar to a cart being drawn by pony-girls, but you can't have everything, as the saying goes.  Tropical paradise?  Yes, but their humiliating captivity was something of a downer.

Beebe soon found she was dripping with sweat, and a glance back over her shoulder confirmed that Suki was also glistening.  Obviously, the newly arrived prisoners weren't yet acclimatized.  The blond jungle-girl, red-haired memsahib, and brunette pony-girls were not sweaty.  They were accustomed to the humid heat.  Actually, Beebe noted, the pony-girls were a little sweaty, but nowhere near as much as Suki and herself.

Beebe and Suki trudged behind the cart, only occasionally catching glimpses of the ocean and beach through the jungle, or rainforest, or whatever was the proper designation for their surroundings.  The pony-girls were setting a brisk walking pace, but at least they weren't jogging.

At one point, they passed a pair of nearly naked women in loincloths and bandeaus of batik-dyed cloth.  Both were armed with spears.  More jungle-girls?  Or were they native amazons?  Beebe wasn't sure.  One of the spear carriers was probably Japanese and the other was clearly a Latina, so if they were amazons, they were members of an ethnically diverse tribe.  The women thumped their chests with their spears, then raised them in salute as the cart passed.  Lizette returned the gesture with her buggy-whip.  Were they "fellow tribe members," or were the "amazons" saluting the heir to the La Roque empire?

Three miles.  Beebe's best estimate was their involuntary, naked, bound, and gagged journey on the sandy track was something like three miles.  Then, they left the jungle and paused at one end of a small bay, or cove, or harbor.  There was another dock, smaller than the one back at the warehouse, a couple of dilapidated sheds, and set back in the jungle, a huge Victorian mansion with turrets, gables,and an expansive covered porch.  Off to the mansion's right were several single-story outbuildings in a tight cluster.  Everything was painted white, or had been at some point, probably several years ago.  The estate had seen better days, but all the roofs were in good repair, as far as Beebe could tell.

Edith jumped down, opened a hamper strapped behind the seat, and produced a plastic bottle with a curved plastic straw piercing the screw-cap.  Smiling broadly, she strolled to the tethered captives, tucked the end of the straw into the corner of Beebe's ball-gagged mouth, and gave the bottle a squeeze.

Ice-cold, very refreshing, very welcome water flooded Beebe's ball-gagged mouth.  She managed to swallow something like half the bottle and avoid "brain-freeze," then watched as Edith did the same for Suki.  The redhead returned the now empty bottle to the hamper, then indicated the distant mansion with a smile and a sweep of her right arm.

"Behold the second venue of The Island," Edith announced, "The Laboratory of Dr. Stanton."

"We really do need to think up a better name for your hangout," Lizette chuckled.  "Maybe you should change your last name to Moreau."  The jungle-girl had pulled a second bottle from the hamper and was using it to hydrate the pony-girls.

"Good idea," Edith drawled.  "Very original.  And you should change your name to Sheena."

"Point taken," Lizette chuckled.  She'd returned the now empty bottle to the hamper, then strolled back to the pony-girls and began giving their breasts a gentle massage.  The pony-girls stood perfectly still and endured being "groomed" by their driver.

Meanwhile, Edith was pointing at the mansion's outbuildings.  "That's the Evil Petting Zoo, Post-Operative Recovery, the Patient Holding Cells, and that's the Main Surgery.  I have a smaller surgery and more holding cells in the main mansion, as well as a fully-equipped torture chamber in the basement, of course."

Beebe and Suki exchanged a blinking, mildly confused, gagged stare.  They were both thinking the same thing: Evil Petting Zoo?

"Welcome to your new home," Edith added, then climbed back onto the bench.  Lizette did the same and readied the reins and whip.

Beebe and Suki exchanged another blinking stare.  New home?

Lizette snapped the whip—Crack!—and the final leg of the bizarre journey began.

 Chapter 6

Much to Beebe's disappointment, the mansion wasn't their immediate destination.  It was probably too much to ask that they be released and invited to high tea on the veranda, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

They arrived at what was clearly the service entrance to the Laboratory compound and Lizette handed off the reins of the slightly sweaty and still sullenly glaring pony-girls to an attendant, a tall, muscular, thirty-something woman with dark, sun-streaked hair, brown skin, and attractive, vaguely Mediterranean features.  She was wearing a loincloth and bandeau, like the "Amazons" they'd passed in the jungle road.  Beebe and Suki watched as the attendant led the pony-girls and cart to what was probably a small stable.

Lizette restored Beebe and Suki's hobble-chains and the tour began.  Stanton took the lead, followed by Lizette, who had a firm grip on the end of Beebe's collar chain, followed by the sweaty prisoners.  Beebe and Suki remained linked, collar-to-collar.

They passed a long row of iron cages, each with a door leading to the interior of a long, shed-like building.  Most of the cages were empty, but two held... furry women?  Both were clearly human, but their costumes—and they had to be costumes, right?—were very realistic.

The first woman was a cat.  Short fur covered most of her body in a calico pattern.  Her hands were catlike paws, as were her feet.  Her face was only semi-catlike, with a triangular pad on the tip of her nose, a spread of whiskers spouting from her upper lip, and golden eyes with slit-like pupils.  Beebe only got a quick look, but the appliances and contacts were very realistic.  They have to be appliances and contacts, right? she thought as she shuffled past the cage.

The "cat-girl" also had a long, twitching tail, and it emerged from the back of a steel chastity-belt.  She also had steel cuffs on her ankles and wrists, as well as a steel collar with a dangling bell.  None of the restraints were joined together, but all had dangling, chain-ready "D"-rings.  The cat-girl watched Edith, Stanton, and the naked, bound and gagged Beebe and Suki pass with what could be feline disdain, carefully masked fear, or possibly both.

Next in line was a fox, or rather, a fox-girl.  The twenty-something woman had been transformed into a fox/human hybrid (or was wearing a devilishly realistic costume).  She was obviously a natural redhead (of the ginger variety) with short, copper-red hair, fair skin, and an abundance of freckles.  Her "fur" was also ginger-red, except for a white belly, including her breasts (but not her nipples), and black fore- and hind-paws.  She was cuffed, collared, and chastity-belted, like her cat-girl neighbor, but without a bell dangling from her collar.  Her red tail (with white tip) was fluffier than the cat's, but that was expected with a fox.  Also, she was wearing, involuntarily, a brown leather muzzle (and probably a gag of some sort) that obscured her lower face.  Finally, she had a pair of long, red ears with pink interiors and black and white fur highlights.

Again, the costume was very realistic, but Beebe was sure the "fox-girl" was actually a ginger human female in an expensive costume.

Unlike the nonchalant (or fearful) "cat-girl," the "fox-girl" made her discontent apparent as the party passed by pawing the bars and whining through her muzzle.  She was ignored.  Poor thing, Beebe thought, but a thrill of sadistic appreciation rippled between her legs at the sight of the pathetic distress in the fox-girl's green eyes, despite Beebe's own captive condition.

And then they entered another shed and were met by two more of the loincloth and bandeau-wearing tall, muscular amazons.  One was a Nordic blonde and the other a dark-skinned African.

The African detached Suki's chain from the back of Beebe's collar, led her to a rather confining iron cage, and locked her inside.  Its base was only two-feet by two-feet and its height seven, so Suki had no choice but to stand.

The African then joined her Viking Shield-Maiden companion to strap Beebe to a long, narrow, unpadded, horizontal steel table, the sort of thing usually used for autopsies in morgues!  Gulp!  During the process, Beebe's handlers revealed themselves to be both strong and well-trained in the art of handling reluctant damsels.  Beebe struggled long enough to uphold the honor of Damsels-in-Distress everywhere, then relaxed and let the professionals do their job.  Her efforts were moot as well as token, anyway.  Her handlers never removed enough of her restraints at any one time for her to mount a credible resistance.

Beebe was now flat on her back on the cold steel table with her legs about a foot apart, her arms at her sides, well-padded medical restraints of brown leather on her wrists and ankles, and brown leather straps across her torso (above and below her breasts), her waist, and her thighs.  Her brown leather collar was included in the arrangement, clamped to the table and limiting her ability to turn her gagged head.

Their work apparently accomplished, the Amazons made their exit.  This gave Beebe a chance to take a more detailed survey of at her surroundings.  Gulp!  Beebe was in a rather antique surgical suite.  Glaring spotlights shone from overhead.  The walls were lined with glass-front cabinets full of glass jars, packaged supplies, and elaborate medical equipment, some of which were outright Victorian in their obsolescence and of highly questionable utility.  She had a perfect view of Suki and her cage, and conversely, Suki had a perfect view of Beebe and her table.

Lizette stepped forward, to the side of the table opposite Suki, smiled, and placed a hand on Beebe's flat, sculpted, tan tummy.  "Dr. Bonde," she purred, "my mother has asked me to relay a proposal from the Judicial Review Committee of the Sisterhood."

Beebe blinked, uncertainly, then glanced at Suki.  Her partner blinked back.

"Don't worry about the 'Sisterhood,'" Lizette continued.  "You'll have plenty of opportunity to learn the details of the various subdivisions of the organization, those that we decide to share, but only if you make the right choice."

Beebe stared up at her devilishly cute (and sinister) captor.  Choice?

"The Sisterhood has full access to all of your records and finances," Lizette explained.  "We can trace your entire career as a kidnapper-for-hire, in complete detail.  In short, we have proof, positive, of all your crimes."  The jungle-girl smiled.  "This brings us to your choices."  She slid her palm up Beebe's body to her right breast, and gave it a gentle squeeze.  "Choice one: we share this forensic bounty with a host of law enforcement agencies, worldwide."  She continued her massage of Beebe's breasts.  "Of course, some of the countries involved are notorious for having legal and penal systems than are, shall we say, 'less enlightened' than the norm in the developed world.  Also, if you take that option, the Senior Sisters have agreed that the less enlightened countries should get first crack at prosecuting, incarcerating, and punishing the notorious Dr. Bondage... as well as her partner-in-crime, the nefarious Suki."

Not good, Beebe decided.  She noticed that while Lizette was talking, Edith had opened a tall locker, removed her gloves, Sam Browne belt and holster, riding crop, and blouse, hung them in the locker, and donned an apron of black, rubberized cloth.  She'd then stepped to a nearby sink and began thoroughly washing her hands.  Beebe noted that Edith's back was uniformly and deeply freckled.  She surmised her captor indulged in nude sunbathing on a regular basis.

"There is an alternative to a life sentence in the third world hell-hole prison of our choice," Lizette continued.  "Choice two: you do a term—duration yet to be determined—of  'community service' on The Island, supervised by the Sisterhood.  How does that sound to you?"

"Tell her the rest," Edith said.

Lizette released Beebe's breast and combed an errant wisp of hair that had somehow escaped Beebe's braid from her glistening, gagged face.  "You'll serve as Dr. Stanton's assistant at The Laboratory, after serving a suitable apprenticeship in all the intermediate positions, from Evil Petting Zoo Specimen to surgical nurse."  She shifted her gaze to Suki, inside her cage.  "As for you, I think the doctor intends to start you out as a monkey-girl.  Isn't that right, Edith?"

"We haven't had a monkey in the Evil Petting Zoo for several months," Edith stated, "so... why not?"

"After a few months," Lizette said, "or several weeks, with good simian behavior, you'll be transferred to the Pirate Queen's Castle for an orientation tour.  After that, perhaps the Native Village.  That's The Island's third venue, by the way.  They're always looking for captured European brats in filthy, ripped dresses to do their drudge work and eventually be sacrificed to their god, an animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex."

"When they can get the damn thing to work," Edith chuckled.

"It's the humidity," Lizette sighed.  "It plays havoc with the micro-actuators."  She shifted her smile back to Beebe.  "Anyway, you have to volunteer for Island service, of course, and as tokens of your sincerity, you must agree to wear security transponders."  She wheeled over a steel cart covered with a jade-green cloth, removed the cloth with a flourish, and revealed an array of surgical instruments and a pair of glass petri-dishes containing what Beebe immediately recognized as nipple-stirrups!
Lizette held up a petri-dish for Beebe's inspection.  The stirrups had spherical end-caps, connecting wire posts, and "U"-shaped shackles.  Yes, they were definitely nipple-stirrups!

"Isn't nano-technology wonderful?" Lizette chuckled.  "The first generation of these things had big, heavy spheres in the middle of the stirrups that housed the batteries and electronics.  Now, the circuitry is incorporated inside the stirrup, and the units are self-charging.  Your body will act as a biological battery, Dr. Bonde, once they're in place.  They're titanium, by the way, impossible to remove without special tools."  She set the petri-dish back down on the cart, next to the second, apparently identical dish containing the second, apparently identical pair of stirrup/transponders.

"If you wander into secure locations, such as one of the Island's control bunkers, the seaplane hanger, or the boat docks," Lizette continued, "all sorts of alarms will go off and either security pirates or security jungle-girls will come looking for you.  They enjoy a good damsel hunt, and since you'll be effectively radio-tagged, you'll be very easy prey."

Beebe gazed at the petri-dish on the cart, heaved a sigh, then turned her gagged head and gazed at her naked, bound, gagged, and caged partner.

Suki heaved a sigh of her own, then nodded her head.

'Community Service,' or rot in a third world prison for the rest of our lives, Beebe pondered.  Not much of a choice, is it?  She turned her head back to Lizette and nodded, as best her collar would allow.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' to the second choice?" Lizette purred.  "You agree to remain on The Island until the Sisterhood decides different?"

Beebe nodded, again.  So did Suki.

Edith had finished scrubbing up and was standing next to Lizette.  At some point she'd added an old fashioned, white cotton surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves to her ensemble of black rubberized apron, bare, freckled shoulders and arms, and bulging, freckled décolletage.  Her green eyes smiled down at her "patient" as she reached for a pair of forceps, used them to grip several pads of cotton gauze squares, wet the squares from a alcohol dispenser, then began swabbing Beebe's right breast.

Beebe shuddered and tugged on her bonds.  Her nipple popped erect and goosebumps formed on her breast as the alcohol evaporated.

"I'm so glad you've agreed to join us," Edith said as she continued sterilizing Beebe's boob.

"If she's a good girl," Lizette said, "eventually we'll have two mad doctors in residence, and you'll finally be able to take that vacation you've been pestering mother about."

"We'll see," Edith purred.

Beebe watched as Edith picked up a stainless steel instrument she didn't recognize.  Her new supervisor then lifted the lid of one of the petri-dishes, unscrewed one of the stirrup's end-cap spheres, then loaded the remaining stirrup assembly into the complex jaws of what Beebe now realized was a highly specialized piercing tool.

"I'm afraid this is going to sting a little," Edith purred as she used a pair of forceps to capture and stretch Beebe's right nipple, then carefully positioned the jaws of the piercing tool to do the deed.

Beebe managed not to flinch or yelp through her ball-gag when Edith closed the handles, the tool clicked, and a needle pierced her flesh.

Ow-ow-ow!  The needle had stung, as Edith had promised, but Beebe had to admit the pain hadn't been that bad.

Edith shifted her grip and depressed a side handle.  The tool's needle retracted and the post's shaft took its place in one smooth, sliding motion, positioning the end of the stirrup on the post at the same time.  Edith placed the piercing tool on the cart, then screwed the missing end-cap on the end of the post.  Finally, she used a pair of stainless steel pliers with a specialized business end to grip the end-cap spheres of the post it its jaws, and gave it a firm squeeze.

"That crushes the micro-capsules of epoxy and fuses the screw-caps in place," Edith explained, apparently for Beebe's benefit.  She then swabbed Beebe's right nipple and new jewelry, applied a dab of some sort of ointment, then applied a circular band-aid.

Whoop-de-doo, Beebe silently fumed, trying not to glare at her new supervisor and potential colleague.

"And now for the left," Edith announced as she refreshed the alcohol of the cleaning forceps' pads and began swabbing Beebe's left breast and nipple.

The left-hand procedure was accomplished—it also stung—and now both of Beebe's nipples were pierced, bejeweled, and bandaged.

"Two down and two to go," Edith quipped as she stripped off her gloves.

"Lunch first?" Lizette suggested, then nodded at Suki.  "You can ventilate the sidekick's tits after we eat."

"An excellent plan," Edith stated, then reached behind her head, untied her mask, and let it fall forward, revealing her beautiful, freckled face and broad smile.  "Seafood salad on the veranda."

"Excellent," Lizette agreed.

Edith returned to the locker and removed her mask and apron, but didn't don her blouse.

Beebe tugged on her bonds as the topless "Mad Doctor" and nearly naked "Jungle-Girl" departed, closing and locking the door behind them.

Beebe gazed at Suki.

Suki gazed back.

Well, Beebe mused, as career changes go, I suppose it could be worse.  And if there's a way to escape this 'Sisterhood" and Perta La Roque's 'Island,' we'll find it... if we decide we want to find it.

 Chapter 6


Chapter 5