by Van ©2018
		Chapter 1

It had been a long day of collating purchase files, chasing down stray invoices, and updating ledgers.  Nothing out of the ordinary for Leda Brewer, secretary and bookkeeper at Archer Metals, but a tiring day, nonetheless.  She entered the flat she shared with her best friend forever (BFF), aspiring writer, and certified pain-in-the-butt Robin Clery, and hung her purse and jacket on their accustomed coat-hooks in the front entryway.  Clad in the same pretty (in everybody's opinion) cotton shift-dress she'd worn all day, a pair of sensible work pumps, and not mentioning her unmentionables, she dragged herself into the apartment's living room/common room and collapsed into the easy chair next to the sofa.

"Is that you?" a voice yelled from Robin's bedroom and writing room.  Not surprisingly, the voice belonged to Robin.

Leda smiled and yelled back.  "No!  It's a burglar!  You left the front door unlocked again!"

Truth be told, Robin hadn't left the door unlocked, and she wasn't really a pain-in-the-butt.  Robin was a sweetie.  Also, as Leda had told her BFF and roomie on numerous occasions, with three published novels under her belt, at some point Robin was going to have to drop the "aspiring" tag and start calling herself an actual writer.  The royalties were dribbling in—and were enough to pay Robin's half of the rent and support her modest lifestyle—just barely.

The non-pain-in-the-butt in question breezed into the living room, resplendent in her favorite pair of Daisy Dukes and a coffee-brown tank-top-style top.  The cut-off denim jeans were ultra short, faded, frayed, and clearly deserved to be retired to the recycling bin after a life of long and faithful service stretched across the butt of their non-pain-in-the-butt owner, but Robin liked them, so they soldiered on.  The top was new.

"How was your day?" Robin inquired as she sat on the hassock that went with Leda's chair, lifted her roomie's feet onto her lap, plucked off her shoes, and began massaging her feet.

Leda sighed, then settled back in the chair.  "Hectic."  She heaved another sigh, smiled, then focused on Robin's smiling face and her smile faded.  "Okay, what do you want?"

Robin's smile morphed into a wounded pout.  "Oh, that's nice."  She continued massaging Leda's feet.  "I politely inquire how your day went—as would any concerned friend—and you accuse me of wanting something."

Leda cocked an eyebrow and favored her friend with a wry smile.

Robin's smile returned.  "Okay, you know me.  Yes... I want something."  She continued her foot massage.

Leda closed her eyes and relaxed... not that she hadn't been relaxed before.  "Well?"

Robin's smile became a dimpled grin.  "I want you to help me with a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty bit of research for my next novel."

Leda opened one eye.  "You're finally writing?"

Robin pouted, again.  "I told you," she huffed.  "I'm not blocked... meaning I wasn't blocked.  I was... thinking.  And yes, I'm writing."

Leda smiled and closed her eye.  Robin had magic hands.  The massage felt good.

"I need you to tie me up," Robin explained.

Leda opened her eye, again (and ignored the thrill that was trying to ripple between her legs).  "Say what?"

"You heard me."  Robin's dimpled grin had returned.  "I need to know what's it like to be a helpless prisoner.  Research.  You're into that stuff, so you can be my expert."

Leda blushed (slightly).  "What do you mean by 'into that stuff?'  I'm offended."

"Oh, please," Robin chuckled.  "I'm not saying you're a bondage freak, but I've seen how you perk up whenever a damsel-in-distress scene pops up in a movie or TV show.  You don't even try to hide it.  And you told me about the horrible stuff they do to you at work."

Leda closed her eye, again.  "Archer Metals does all kinds of metalwork, and some of our artists accept commissions from clients with, shall we say, specialized tastes."  Leda's employer was as much a commune of metalworking artists and artisans as a metal fabrication business, and somebody had to help test the 'specialized items' before they were shipped out.

"Okay, it's the clients who are the bondage freaks," Robin purred.  "That doesn't explain why you let them lock you in their shackles and chains and cages and stuff."

Leda's eyes remained closed.  "Somebody has to make sure there aren't any burrs or rough spots."

"Yes," Robin chuckled, "somebody."  She continued her massage.  "Anyway, I need to know what it's like to be a helpless prisoner."

"So you said," Leda purred.  She had that pesky thrill firmly under control, but her heart was thumping.  This was an opportunity, an out-of-the-blue opportunity.  She wasn't about to let it pass, but knew she was going to have to play her cards very carefully.

Robin's dimples deepened as she stopped massaging Leda's feet and lightly ran the tips of her fingers up and down Leda's wrinkled soles.

"Hey!" Leda objected (giggled), opening both eyes.

"Well?" Robin demanded, resuming her massage.

Leda closed her eyes, again.  "Okay, I'll tie you up, but after dinner... and you have to cook."

"It's my turn, anyway," Robin noted, still smiling.

Robin loved it when a plan came together.  She didn't consider herself a particularly manipulative person, but getting Leda to do things Robin's way usually took a little... persuasion.  This had been easy. 

Dinner was tossed salad, spaghetti with meatballs (made with marinara sauce from a jar), garlic bread, and a cheap but drinkable Chianti.  Robin did the cooking, as promised, but both roomies shared the cleanup duties.  They then adjourned to the living room and Robin gathered her thoughts and prepared to orchestrate her latest research effort.

"Tinkle," Leda ordered.

"Excuse me?" Robin demanded.

"Go use the Little Damsel's Room," Leda clarified, pointing at the bathroom door.

Tinkling seemed like a sensible precaution, so Robin made a show of exasperated martyrdom, then strolled to the 'Little Damsel's Room' and emptied her bladder.  So much for being in charge, Robin thought as she splashed water on her face and brushed her hair, then returned to the living room to find Leda sorting through a pile of white cotton rope.  Robin was no expert, but she believed the neat bundles of various lengths were of the clothesline variety.  Also, her soon to be captor had moved one of their four straight-back wooden chairs from the dining table near the kitchen to the middle of the floor.

Robin frowned.  "What kind of a person has that much rope just lying around their apartment?"

Leda grinned and poked herself between the breasts with her right index finger.  "This kind."

Robin realized the agenda was continuing to slip from her fingers.  She watched as Leda selected a coil of clothesline and released its retaining hitch.  Time to assert herself before it was too late.  "Okay, what I want you to do is—"

"Quiet," Leda interrupted.  "Sit!"  The now loose coil was in her left hand and she was pointing at the chair seat with her right.

"Bossy much?" Robin huffed as she planted her denim-clad butt in the hard wooden chair.

"You're writing a story with a villainess who's not in control of the situation?" Leda inquired as she stepped behind the chair.

"Well, yes," Robin answered, "and no.  No for most of the plot, but obviously yes during the damsel-in-distress sequence."

"This is that part," Leda explained with a smile.  "Arms behind the chair."

"Huh?" Robin blinked, then followed her BFF and villainess-stand-in's order.  Her armpits now rested on top of the chair-back.

"Hands palm-to-palm," Leda specified, and again, Robin complied.

Robin grimaced—from nervousness, not pain—as loops of doubled rope tightened around her wrists... were cinched... then knotted.  She tugged on her wrists and groped with her fingers, but couldn't find the knots Leda had just tied, but she did encounter two long free ends of rope dangling from somewhere between her wrists.

"Stop that," Leda huffed, lightly slapping the back of Robin's right hand.  "No squirming 'til I'm finished."

"I assumed you were finished," Robin explained (whined).

"Oh, Sweetie," Leda chuckled. "I've barely started.  I haven't even tied your ankles."  She picked up another coil and prepared it for use by doubling it, finding the center, and forming a loop.  "Now, no more talkin' 'til I tell you you can talk, understand?"

"Oh, yes Madam Villianess!" Robin huffed.

Leda proceeded to bind Robin's elbows together behind the chair—not touching-together, but about two inches apart with rope wrapped between.  Next, she tied Robin's ankles and knees, then proceeded to deploy loop after loop of cinched rope to lash Robin to the chair.  White cotton bands crossed her lap, encircled her waist, and snugged her chest against the chair-back, passing above and below her breasts.  The finale was a pair of doubled ropes that yoked Robin's shoulders, cinched the lower horizontal below-the-breasts ropes, and further lashed her to the chair.  Then, she incorporated the free ends from Robin's wrist bonds in the chair lashings by hitching then around the cross-braces between the chair-legs, removing all the slack, then tying a series of knots.  Robin's best guess was that the knot in question was something like eighteen inches from her fingertips.  Her bound ankles had already received similar treatment.  Her feet were under the chair and off the floor with her toes just barely grazing the pile of the living room carpet.

"Okay, you can squirm now," Leda conceded.  She was standing in front of her chair-bound BFF/victim with her arms crossed under her breasts.

Robin stared at her captor.  The smile curling Leda's lips wasn't at all condescending, gloating, and infuriating. 

So, having nothing better to do, Robin started squirming... then squirmed some more... then twisted, bucked, and shifted her weight from side-to-side.

"Stop rockin' the chair," Leda ordered.  "If you tip over you'll probably hurt yourself."

Brave Defiance seemed appropriate.  "Bite me," Robin growled, glowering at her captor.

Still smiling, Leda turned and strolled towards her bedroom.  "I'll be right back," she promised.

Robin resumed squirming and fluttering her fingers.  She didn't bother wiggling her toes.  Apparently (obviously), Leda was even more into the subject of her research than Robin had previously suspected.  Also, her current predicament was more elaborate than anything she remembered reading about or seeing in cinema and TV.  Okay, Bridget Fonda had been nearly as elaborately bound to a chair in Single White Female, but that had been with tape.  Leda had used rope... a lot more rope.  Anyway, SWF was all Robin could think of at the moment.  Literary damsels were usually just "tied up" or "bound hand and foot," and movie and TV bondage was almost always proforma to the point of cliché.  Even Robin could tell the captive actresses weren't nearly as helpless as they were being paid to pretend.

Leda's ropes, on the other hand...  Robin squirmed a little more.  Be careful what you wish for.

"Okay, here we go," Leda said as she breezed back into the living room.

Robin swallowed nervously.  Leda had just placed a neatly-rolled, wide, "flesh"-colored elastic bandage and a stack of folded scarves and bandanas on the nearby hassock.

"Don't stare at me with those sad, baby-fawn eyes, young lady," Leda chuckled as she selected a blue and white cotton bandana, let it fall open, then crumpled it into a tight wad.  "You can't be a 'helpless prisoner' unless you're gagged."

Robin hadn't realized she'd been staring, but now that she thought about it, it was probably a good idea and stared some more.  "I could pretend to be gagged," she suggested.

"That would be cheating," Leda purred as she cupped Robin's chin with one hand and stuffed the bandana into her sputtering mouth with the other.  "Hold that for me," she requested, then selected a sky-blue, lightweight summer scarf and began folding it into a long, thin bandage.

"Mrrrk!" Robin complained, but didn't attempt to expel the wad of cotton cloth.  At least the stuffing filling her oral cavity was an old bandana and had been washed countless times.  The fabric was soft.  Besides, she'd asked for it.  So to speak.  Or not speak, now that her mouth was stuffed.

Smiling sweetly, Leda wrapped the scarf-bandage around Robin's head and across gaping lips twice, then cinched the ends at the nape of her neck... paused to free her BFF/prisoner's long, brown locks from under the gag... then cinched it even tighter—eliciting a grunt from Robin—then tied a tight square-knot.  She then combed Robin's tousled hair from her face with her fingers, gathered it behind her head in a ponytail, and used another scarf to enforce the arrangement.

Robin stared daggers at her BFF/captor.  Be careful what you wish for, indeed, she thought.  Then, her eyes popped wide.  "Mrrrf?"  Apparently, Leda wasn't finished!

Still smiling sweetly (evilly), Leda released the Velcro closure of the elastic bandage and began stretching and wrapping it around Robin's head until she covered her already gagged mouth and mummified her lower face from just below her flaring nostrils to the point of her chin.

"Mrrrpfh!"

"Calm down," Leda purred as she smoothed the tight, stretched, overlapping layers of bandage, making sure the wrappings were secure.  "Almost finished."

Robin's brown doe eyes were still wide.  Almost?  "Mrrrm."  Her stuff-cleave-bandage gag was certainly effective.  She had to give her villainous roomie credit for that, but was it really necessary?  She resumed staring imaginary daggers... all of which harmlessly bounced off her gloating BFF.

"Hmm..."  Still smiling, Leda gazed at her prisoner.  "What else?"  Then, her smile widened and she snapped her fingers.  "Got it!"  She stepped to the hassock, selected another scarf, this one in a multi-pastel floral pattern, and folded it into another bandage.

Robin glowered at her BFF.  Another gag layer?  That's ridiculous.  "Mrrrf!"  Leda had stepped behind her chair... and suddenly, everything went black!  A blindfold?  C'mon!  "Mrrrpfh!"  She squirmed and fought her bonds, but couldn't prevent Leda from cinching the blindfolding scarf and tying another square-knot.  "Mrrrm!"

Robin heard Leda step away... then flinched when her captor placed something over her ears!  She quickly realized it was the pair of Bose wireless noise-cancelling headphones from their entertainment unit.  She'd bought them for Leda last Christmas, but they both used them when one roomie wanted to watch TV and the other had decided to go to bed early.  She shook her head and complained.

"Mrrrf!"

Next, she felt Leda release the scarf enforcing her ponytail, then (apparently) use the still narrowly folded cloth to reinforce her blindfold and anchor the headphones in place.  She shook her head, again, then heaved a muffled sigh and complained through her effective gag, again.

"Mrrrm"

Helplessly bound, gagged, blindfolded, and now...  Ear-muffed?  Aurally suppressed?  ...Robin sat in her chair and Leda's ropes and contemplated her condition.  So... helpless prisoner...  I got my way.  Yippee?

Suddenly, sound filled Robin's ears!  It wasn't especially loud, but it was loud enough, and thanks to the headphones' noise-cancelling technology, it was all she could hear.  Eventually, Robin realized that she was listening to the start of a movie... specifically... Thor Ragnarok?  The roomies had agreed to watch Thor Ragnarok together "some night soon."  Apparently, Leda had decided that tonight was the night.  The only problem was—"Mrrrk!"—Robin wasn't able to watch anything!

Leda had set the volume of the headphones at what she knew to be a comfortable level, but had lowered the volume from their TV speaker system until it was barely audible.  Leda wasn't interested in watching Thor Ragnarok this evening (although Chris Hemsworth was decidedly easy on the eyes).  She had another evening's entertainment in mind.

She stooped to retrieve her work shoes, then padded into her bedroom and undressed.  She kept her panties, but dropped a white tank-top over her head, then shrugged into her favorite (meaning her only) cotton robe (in salmon pink).  Cinching the robe's sash, she padded back into the living room, flopped into the easy chair, propped her bare feet atop the hassock... and smiled.

Robin was still in her chair, of course, bound in place, gagged, blindfolded, and deafened by movie dialogue.

Leda gazed at her roomie's bare feet, shapely legs, and denim and cotton-clad body—as well as what she could see of her rope-yoked shoulders and upper arms—gag, blindfold, and headphone muffled head—and long, tousled brown curls.  Robin's girlish features were completely covered, except for the tip of her cute little button nose, but in Leda's well-educated experience, Robin had never been more beautiful.  Leda had seen her roomie in all states of dress and undress, but tightly bound in cotton rope and totally helpless?  She'd never been more beautiful.

Leda had carried a torch for her BFF, like, forever.  Robin didn't suspect a thing, but Leda was in love with her roomie.  Unsuspected and unrequited?  Unfortunately, yes.  Nonetheless, Leda was in love.

Robin continued squirming and testing her inescapable bonds—the soft cotton ropes Leda had lovingly looped, hitched, and cinched around her adorably cute, charmingly diminutive, athletic, and undeniably attractive BFF.

Leda, herself, was also diminutive and fit.  They both exercised and went running on a regular basis, and Leda had talked Robin into joining her yoga class.  Leda had no problems in the self-image department.  She knew they were both cute little things—Robin was 5' 2" and Leda a statuesque 5' 2½"—and they both turned heads; however, Robin turned heads twice.  She was absolutely adorable.  Being something of a minor film buff, Leda had always mused that Robin had been popped from the same mold as Yvonne Craig, Sally Fields, and Meg Ryan.  Robin was cute-cute-cute!  Leda was very grateful to have Robin as her roommate and friend.  She was also horny.

Smiling a somewhat goofy, somewhat coy smile, Leda gazed at her helpless, oblivious roomie for several seconds... then loosened the sash of her robe and slid her right hand down the front of her panties.  She continued watching Robin wiggle in her chair and toss her gagged, blindfolded, and electronically deafened head... and slowly masturbated.  A clinical description of a socially frowned-upon activity?  Yes, but Leda didn't care.  When she'd left Archer Metals for home at the end of the workday she'd had no idea that her evening was going to be this much fun... but it had happened!

Robin continued struggling, Leda suspected for comfort more than anything else.  She certainly wasn't going to escape.  Leda had seen to that.  Hurrah for research! Leda thought as she worked her way to the first of what she hoped would be many orgasms before she'd have to free her prisoner so she could go to bed—so they could go to bed—in separate beds in separate bedrooms, unfortunately.

Well... Leda thought as she climbed the trail to the summit of Mt. Orgasm... baby steps.

"I assume she kicked your ass when you finally untied her," Jordan Price chuckled as she used a tack cloth and a little alcohol to clean the last traces of polishing compound from her latest creation, "but I don't see any bruising."  She paused to gaze at Leda Brewer's naked body before continuing.  "No bruising at all."

"That's 'cause there isn't any," Leda explained.  She was, indeed, naked, and standing in a spread-eagle with her wrists and ankles locked in thick, wide, polished steel manacles and shackles, which in turn were attached to long, taut chains attached to the ceiling and floor of Jordan's Archer Metals workshop.  The steel restraints were Jordan's handiwork, of course, and she did a brisk trade in similar cuffs and binders.  However, Jordan used this particular set to expedite her testing process.  Leda tugged on her restraints—or rather tried to tug on her restraints.  With her arms and legs flung wide it was a pathetic effort.  There was almost zero slack in the chains.  Leda was also a regular part of Jordan's testing process, and Jordan had long since made the link-by-link fine adjustments required to attain and maintain maximum stretch.  Leda's bare feet were flat on the concrete floor, but just barely (pun intended).

Jordan was not naked, of course.  She was wearing her usual work clothes: steel-tipped boots, jeans, tank-top, and chamois-thin, stained, leather work apron.  Leda was naked, but not Jordan.

So, why was Leda naked?  Why was Leda always naked when she "helped" Jordan with her product testing?  It was obvious.  There was always a distinct possibility that Leda would come in contact with the grease, oil, and grime one always finds in a metalworking shop and stain one of the pretty dresses she always wore to work.  Whenever Jordan politely requested her assistance (meaning ordered her to get her ass into the shop, pronto), it made sense for Leda to strip to the skin and hang her office attire (and unmentionables) in one of Jordan's lockers.  The workshop door was always closed and locked for privacy (and to prevent Leda from chickening out and trying to make a run for it once she got a good look at whatever needed testing).  In any case, the other artists and artisans at Archer Metals didn't mind if they happened to catch a glimpse of Leda Brewer in all her naked helplessness.  So... here she was... again.

"How did she take being tied to a chair all night?" Jordan asked.  Apparently satisfied with her efforts, she'd tossed the tack cloth on a workbench and was strolling towards her Testing Assistant.

Her eyes on Jordan's latest masterpiece, the gleaming object in her hands, Leda swallowed before answering.  "It wasn't all night, just a couple of hours, but she took it surprisingly well.  She was a little gruff by the time I finished untying her, but I suppose that's, uh, normal?"

"I suppose," Jordan agreed.

The masterpiece in question was a chastity belt, and it was, unquestionably, a masterpiece.  A pair of hinges in the back allowed the two halves of the horizontal belt to close around Leda's waist.  They locked together with a click, the smooth, polished steel now riding her hips.  The curved, vertical crotch-panel depended from a third hinge in the rear.  Jordan lifted it between Leda's legs and it now cleaved Leda's butt, cupped her pussy, and attached to the closed belt in the front with another click.  A star-shaped opening over Leda's anus and a saw-tooth vertical slot over her labia satisfied her sanitary needs, but clearly the belt would require careful cleaning in the event of long term wear.  Jordan used a barrel-style key to double-lock the belt's mechanism, then took a step back, crossed her arms under her breasts, and smiled.

"It's not exactly a perfect fit," Leda huffed, gazing down at her steel-clad loins as best she could.

"The customer's specifications don't exactly match your measurements," Jordan purred, "but it's close enough.  It certainly looks functional."

"Functional?" Leda huffed.  "I suppose."

Jordan continued gazing at Leda's slender, athletic, diminutive, and oh-so-sexy form.  Her Testing Assistant had tan, smooth, firm skin, and the stretched pose imposed a pleasing tone on the muscles of her arms, legs, and abdomen.  Also, Leda had a pierced bellybutton with a little jeweled post.  It was cute.  Oh-by-the-way, both of Leda's nipples were pierced, and she was wearing a pair of simple, understated, stainless steel dumbbell posts.

At 5' 7", Jordan was taller than her naked, captive assistant, but every bit as fit, athletic, and curvaceous.  Some might argue more so.  Jordan had always been a jock, and after her boobs blossomed in high school, she'd definitely started attracting more than her share of attention.  Also (or so she'd been told) her features were gorgeous.  Arguably she was as beautiful as Leda, she just didn't think it was important.  Also, Jordan was decidedly... assertive.  Okay, she was dominant.  There, the secret was out.

Again, Leda tugged (sort of) on her chains and added a twisting motion to her steel-clad hips.  "So," she said, "obviously, it works.  I need to get back to the office."

Jordan continued her visual inspection of her handiwork (and its model).  "You told me you were up to date with your paperwork."

Leda shrugged... or flinched.  Her stretched pose made it difficult to tell.  "Once they go through their mail after lunch, people always drop off invoices and receipts.  I should be in the office."

Jordan smiled, then strolled to the locker containing Leda's clothing, retrieved her panties, then went to a nearby cabinet and returned with a roll of silver duct-tape and a pair of utility scissors.

Leda watched Jordan strip off five strips of duct-tape, tack them by one corner to Leda's own outstretched arm, then crumple the panties into a wad.  "Jordan!" she whined.

"Hush," Jordan purred as she stuffed the panties into Leda's pouting mouth... then plastered the first strip of tape across her lips, used the second and third strips to form an "X" directly over the first, then applied the fourth and fifth in horizontal, overlapping fashion.  She then used her fingers and hands to smooth the layers of tape, making sure the adhesive had a good grip.  "I'll let you go back to work after lunch," she purred, "wearing the belt under your dress, of course.  That should be an adequate test."  She stepped back and crossed her arms under her breasts, again.  "And if you're a good girl and don't pout, whine, and make a general nuisance of yourself, I'll unlock the belt before you go home.  Otherwise, we'll extend the test to overnight."

Leda watched as Jordan returned the scissors and tape to the cabinet.

"But now that I think of it," Jordan said as she strolled to another workbench and began sorting the clutter of tools, "overnight is probably a good idea."  She turned and grinned at her naked, spreadeagled, belted, and gagged Testing Assistant.  "We'll see."

Leda heaved a sigh, hung in her chains (to be overly dramatic) and watched Jordan get organized to start her next project.  She imagined Robin in her place... naked, chained, belted, and gagged.  Better yet, she imagined Robin next to her, with both of them naked, chained, belted, and gagged.  That would require Jordan to install a second set of "testing chains," of course, but that was her problem.  Leda shivered in her steel bonds and sighed through her panty-gag.  Robin had stated last night that she suspected her roomie was into damsels-in-distress, but that hadn't been a surprise.  Leda had shared vague accounts of her escapades as a bondage tester for the Archer Metals artists; however, Robin had absolutely no clue about Leda's "secret life."  Her roomie had no idea what happened to Leda during her infrequent "vacations."

What would she think if she saw me like this? Leda wondered.  I bet she'd think it was funny.  Anyway... how can I... bring her along?  The last thing Leda wanted was to scare away her BFF.  That said, last night's experiment had been Robin's idea.  It was an opening, and Leda needed time to think about how to proceed.  Luckily (or not), Jordan seemed perfectly willing to give her that time.