She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed decided exercise period was over, ended
her ascent to nowhere, and stepped back from the
step-climber. Nude and sweaty, she padded to the
window-side lounge-chair, untied Tippi's kimono-tie-hogtie,
helped her to her feet, then led her to the café table, where
Coco's neatly folded clothes were still patiently waiting.
She rummaged in the pockets of her black designer jeans until
she found her keys, unbuckled and removed Tippi's ball-gag,
unlocked and removed her handcuffs, then gestured towards the
dry sauna. "Go," she suggested (ordered).
Tippi swallowed, licked her lips, worked her jaw, and padded to
the tiled shower area next to the sauna's cedar door.
Meanwhile, Eliza was walking (padding) on the running machine's
rolling treadmill at a sedate pace. The machine's
dedicated control panel had chimed—Bong!—about three
minutes earlier and the message "COOLDOWN"
had appeared on the display. Eliza suspected that had
probably been Coco's clue that her cunning plan to force poor
innocent, handcuffed, and ball-gagged Eliza to exercise was
reaching its successful conclusion. The final result was
Eliza dripping with sweat, her boobs heaving as she panted
through her ball-gag, her bare feet throbbing and complaining
about all the bloody running, with her calves and other muscles
in total agreement... and her wrists were still cuffed
together behind her back.
Over by the sauna, Tippi endured the cold shower just long
enough to get thoroughly drenched, paused to favor Eliza with a
shivering, water-dripping expression of pathetic, pitiable
trepidation, then disappeared into the sauna.
By this time, Coco had arrived at the running machine and was
returning Eliza's ball-gagged scowl with her usual dimpled
smile. Both were shining with sweat, of course.
Apparently deciding to override the remainder of the machine's
prescribed cooldown period, Coco stabbed the touchscreen's
virtual CANCEL button. With a musical farewell—Bing-bong!—the
program expired, the display went dark, the roller under Eliza's
bare feet ground to a halt, and the motor stopped humming.
Still smiling her insufferable smile, Coco led Eliza to the
sauna, joined her under the shower, and they both suffered the
same icy, drenching fate, as per pre-sauna etiquette. Only
then did Coco unbuckle and remove Eliza's ball-gag, unlock and
remove her handcuffs, drop the hardware and her key-ring on the
floor, and lead her wet and naked young guest into the sauna.
Continuing proper sauna protocol, and so as not to burn their
butts on the dry, hot cedar benches, Coco used a wooden bucket
and ladle to wet down a section for Eliza and herself, including
the sloped backrests.
As she sat on the wet wood on Coco's right (with Tippi on Coco's
left), Eliza reflected that their hostess/captor had removed her
restraints only after they'd shared the shower so she'd
had no choice but to go halfsies on the punishing arctic
downpour. It was one more trivial example of the total
control of every situation Coco seemed to enjoy with such
relish. Eliza heaved a sigh. The part about Coco relishing
Eliza's suffering wasn't quite fair. Coco didn't gloat
like a super-villain... much... but she was self-satisfied
the point of annoyance (in Eliza's humble opinion).
"How long are you gonna leave her down there?" Tippi
inquired. She was referring to Pepper and her current
boxed and sequestered state, of course.
"And who might be this 'her' you're referring to, Tippi
darling?" Coco purred, being deliberately and irritatingly slow.
"P-pepper," Tippi clarified. "How many?"
Coco's smile widened. "How many what?"
Eliza rolled her eyes. "Stop it! Hours.
How many hours?"
Tippi nodded in wide-eyed confirmation.
"I see," Coco chuckled. "Well... I'm not all together
sure." She directed her smile at Tippi. "How many
hours do you think I should let my sister suffer for
what she did to you?"
Eliza focused her frown on Tippi, as well. "Don't fall for
it," she warned. "She wants you to give her a
number so it'll all be your fault."
"Is that what I'm doing?" Coco asked innocently.
"Now!" Tippi blurted. "Let her go now."
Coco's smile never wavered. "At least let us
finish our sauna." She closed her eyes and settled back
against the cedar backrest. "Hmm... Let me decide. I
think... until after dinner. I'll put you girls to bed, then
"Before!" Tippi blurted. "Please?"
Coco opened her eyes again. "Very well, darling.
I'll release her just before dinner. Around
"Told ya so," Eliza huffed.
Tippi blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"All those hours 'til sunset," Eliza clarified, "and now it's
Tippi's eyes widened in horror, then her pout morphed into a
wounded frown. "Shut up," she whispered, then closed her
eyes and heaved a truly tragic sigh.
Eliza closed her eyes as well, letting her body soak in the
intense, therapeutic heat. Unless it had been her
imagination, just after Tippi had ordered her to stop talking, a
ghost of a smile had curled her partner's lips.
Maybe Tippi wasn't quite as rattled as she seemed.
"I'll give you girls a tour of the gardens when we're done
here," Coco announced.
"After we get dressed, of course," Eliza muttered.
"Oh no, Tomboy," Coco replied. "Exposing the skin
to sunlight promotes the production of vitamin D."
Eliza didn't reply. Neither did Tippi. They both
knew what Coco had said about vitamin D was true, but they
didn't have to like it.
|| Chapter 6
mansion had what Eliza and Tippi readily acknowledged were very
nice gardens. There were only a few actual flowerbeds,
and most of the species thriving in the pleasing landscape were
native to the region. The lawn more-or-less blended into
the surrounding forest. It was all very natural.
They padded from venue to venue, with Coco pointing out the
All three were naked (and no doubt producing scads of
vitamin D). It was a sunny day, insects were buzzing or
flitting about, and the occasional songbird swooped from tree
branch to bush to lawn to tree branch, even though the mansion's
birdfeeding station was on the far side of the mansion's
greenhouse and indoor swimming pool.
Oh-by-the-way, the rubber-lined, hinged handcuffs were back
around Eliza and Tippi's wrists, behind their backs, and the
black-on-black ball-gags were back around their necks in ugly
Why? Why else? 'Power, restriction, and
manipulation,' Eliza fumed silently. Tippi seemed
unconcerned (but maybe still a tad fretful about
nothing in particular).
"I've always wanted a 'Secret Garden' venue," Coco sighed as
they neared the plantings near the greenhouse. She smiled
at her guests. "Know what I mean?"
"Of course," Tippi beamed. "Like in the story. An
English flower garden with roses and all the other usual species
abandoned and left to grow wild. I like that too, but..."
Coco grinned. "It's not so easy in the real world.
Keeping invasive weeds from totally dominating the venue and
choking out everything else is nearly as much work as caring for
a formal garden... or so the landscaping company tells me.
Showing up now and then to mow the lawns, trim the verge, and
prune a few overenthusiastic shrubs is one thing. A proper
Secret Garden would require the services of a full time
"You could do it right here," Tippi said, awkwardly gesturing
with her cuffed hands to indicate the immediate area. "You
could have a dry-fit stone wall built, running from there... to
there... then remove most of the lawn and lay out your
plantings, still using mostly native species, but mixing in
non-natives that you really like. Also, a water-feature
with a wet sand beach for the butterflies. And build a
warren of weasel and mouse-size chambers into the rock wall, for
shelter, refuge, and nesting dens. It would take a few
years for everything to grow out, but it would be worth
it." She pointed at the nearest bank of windows
(awkwardly). "That's a sitting room, right? You
could rearrange the furniture and make it perfect for
laying back, sipping tea, and enjoying all the action... by
which I mean the bees, butterflies, birds, and flowers.
Have you ever seen a Short-tailed Weasel? I think now
they're officially called 'American
Stoats.' They're so cute! Vicious
little hunters, but cute." Tippi noted that Eliza and
Coco were staring at her. "What?"
"When did you become such a gardening enthusiast?" Eliza
Coco simply smiled.
Tippi felt a blush warm her cheeks. "I've always liked
gardening," she said quietly. "My mom and I used to grow
roses and vegetables in our backyard. Someday, I'm gonna
grow a garden of my own."
"Perhaps you can draw up some plans for me," Coco suggested.
"Plans?" Tippi blinked.
"I know a nursery not too far from here that specializes in
native species," Coco continued. "We could make a day of
it, enjoying the plants and consulting with the staff for ideas
and suggestions. They have a charming tearoom with a
surprisingly extensive lunch menu." She turned her smile
to Eliza. "Of course, I'd have to ask Pepper to stash poor
Eliza here someplace appropriate until we return. There
are many options, and I'm sure she won't mind."
"I mind!" Eliza huffed, staring the proverbial daggers.
Coco's smile widened. "I was referring to my sister," she
purred. As the saying goes, butter wouldn't melt in her
mouth. Eliza found it infuriating.
Tippi was blinking again. "I, uh, yeah sure, I mean no!
I mean..." Her pout and blush intensified and she
stomped a bare foot hard enough to make her pageboy sway,
her breasts bob, and her ball-gag necklace bounce. "Stop
Coco laughed, leaned close and kissed Tippi's cheek. "I'm
sorry, darling. I couldn't resist. I will take
you to see the nursery, but it'll have to wait 'til after Eliza
gets her first trip into town and you get your
first chance to be sequestered. It's only fair."
Eliza and Tippi exchanged infuriated and unsettled looks,
respectively, then focused on their naked hostess.
"Let's continue the tour," Coco suggested (ordered), and led the
way around the end of the greenhouse/swimming-pool. They
still had more than half the grounds to cover.
|| Chapter 6
After the tour
came lunch, and after lunch, Coco decreed they should all enjoy
a nice relaxing dip in the swimming pool. She mandated a
half hour wait after eating, of course, then the girls got to
see the inside of the greenhouse as well as the outside.
The pool was a generous, rectangular lap-pool, with tile colors
chosen to emphasize the naturalistic/botanical setting. A
hot tub nestled in one corner at the shallow end.
Unfortunately, Tippi's suggestion that they change into
appropriate swimming attire was rejected by their hostess.
Still nude but no longer handcuffed, they swam a few slow, lazy
laps, but mostly just drifted around in the chlorinated
water. Neither Eliza nor Tippi were in the mood for
splash-fights and/or playing grab-ass. Coco proved to be a
very good swimmer, by the way. She glided through
the water with effortless ease, like a pale-pink mermaid with
pale-pink legs. Eliza and Tippi were impressed.
After the swim, Coco led Tippi to a small library, pointed out
the paper, pens, and colored pencils available in a writing desk
drawer, and sweetly suggested she might like to start work on
her plan for the proposed Secret Garden venue.
Tippi nodded and took it as an order. (Besides, it would
be fun.) She watched from the desk as Coco locked one of
the library's two doors—Click!—then crossed the room,
smiled, waved, and make her exit through the other. Click!
That was the lock turning, of course. Tippi sighed,
gathered her thoughts, and set to work. She was still
naked, but at least she was no longer handcuffed and wearing a
ball-gag necklace. That was progress... right?
Meanwhile, Eliza was cooling her heels in her guest bedroom in
the first floor Patient Wing. The door was locked and she
was handcuffs and ball-gag-free, but still naked. And just
to check, she'd rattled the door of the wardrobe imprisoning her
clothes and luggage. It was locked, of course. It
was always locked. And for all she knew, her
luggage had been repacked while she was elsewhere, busy being
the Vespini sister's naked, bound, and gagged house guest, and
had been whisked away to a secret subterranean storeroom.
And come to think of it, she hadn't been to the garage
recently. Was her trusty Prius-C still there? Or had
it been driven to a shady used car dealer and sold? Eliza
knew she was being ridiculous, but couldn't help herself.
The disgruntled blonde decided a nap was in order, what with all
the recent exercise, the garden tour, and "exhausting" swim—and
for once it was her decision! For some reason,
that felt very satisfying. She closed the drapes
until only a three-inch vertical bar of afternoon light was
allowed into the bedroom, padded to the bed, climbed between the
covers, settled her tousled head against the pillow, and closed
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Eliza came instantly awake when she heard the bedroom door being
unlocked and opened. It was Coco (of course) and she'd
changed out of her birthday suit and into... wait for it... bare
feet, black designer jeans, and a black tank-top. Her long
brown curls were loose about her shoulders and framing her
smiling face. She looked stunning... which, for some
reason, really pissed Eliza off!
"Time for dinner, Tomboy," Coco purred, then extended a hand and
helped Eliza to her feet.
And then—"Bloody hell?"—Coco spun Eliza around, pulled her hands
behind her back, and—Click-k-k-k! Click-k-k-k!—closed
her old friends the shiny hinged handcuffs padded with natural
rubber tubing around her wrists! "Why do you keep doing
that?" Eliza demanded.
Coco grinned. "For educational purposes, of course."
She then reached back into her other hip pocket and produced
Eliza's other old friend, the ball-gag with the black
silicon-rubber ball, black leather strap, and shiny steel
buckle. She buckled it around Eliza's neck in ugly
Eliza's reaction was predictable and unchanged. "How thick
do you think I am?" she demanded. "You like being in
charge. I get it."
Coco's grin widened into a smile. "You are so delightfully
brave and defiant, Tomboy," she sighed. "Such a joy
to tease." She kissed Eliza on her sullen lips.
"Stop that," Eliza muttered (and blushed).
"Make a pit-stop in the bathroom," Coco ordered, "then meet us
in the kitchen for supper." And without waiting for an
acknowledgment or reply, the Mistress-of-the-Mansion left.
Eliza heaved an exasperated sigh, then stomped (padded) to the
bathroom across the hall, successfully opened the door (despite
her cuffed hands), then stomped (padded) to the commode and
successfully emptied her bladder. After awkwardly flushing
the toilet, she padded to the sink and stared at her tousled
hair in the mirror. Unfortunately, thanks to the cuffs,
restoring any degree of order to the spiky, straw-colored mess
was quite impossible. This did not improve her
Eliza made her naked and cuffed way to the kitchen, expecting to
find their hostess, her partner, and their junior hostess;
however, Pepper was conspicuous by her absence.
"So, you were lying," Eliza said by way of greeting.
Tippi's brown eyes popped wide in response. She was seated
at the kitchen-nook table, naked, with her ball-gag
around her neck and her hands behind her back.
Eliza assumed she was also modeling rubber-padded
handcuffs. It would go with Coco's sense of artistic
"Lying?" Coco inquired innocently, then laughed. "Oh,
you're suggesting I didn't release my sister as
promised? I assure you she's the one doing the
lying. Pepper decided to skip supper and is currently
lying down in her bedroom, recovering from her punishment."
Eliza was unimpressed. "Ya mean she's recovering from
lying in a box all day by lying on her bed?"
"Well," Coco chuckled, "when you put it that way... yes."
She gestured towards the table. "Sit."
Eliza rolled her eyes and followed her orders, stomping
(padding) to the breakfast-nook, then sitting next to her
partner. She noted that Tippi's wrists were, indeed,
cuffed behind her back.
Dinner was oven-roasted chicken breasts with some sort of
delicious creamy sauce, brown rice, and steamed broccoli,
accompanied by a rich Chardonnay.
Coco was nice enough to uncuff Tippi's wrists so she could feed
Eliza and herself, but was not nice enough to
uncuff both her guests so they could both eat
like normal, civilized, naked people.
Coco freed Tippi and together they shared the cleanup.
Eliza watched, her wrists still cuffed behind her back,
glowering and contemplating the profound unfairness of
Once the kitchen was spic, span, and ready for tomorrow's
breakfast, Coco cuffed Tippi's wrists behind her back, once
again, and led her nude and semi-helpless young guests through
the mansion to a guest powder room. There, she ordered the
girls to take turns using the commode, scrubbed their faces with
a washcloth, then led them away. Dr. Winslow, Eliza and
Tippi's dentist, would have been profoundly disappointed that
their teeth hadn't received a thorough brushing with a proper
fluoride toothpaste, but then, she wasn't there.
Next, Coco popped Eliza's ball-gag into her mouth—"Mrrf?"—and
buckled it tight. Then, she did the same for Tippi, who
had watched with horror as her partner was gagged, but said
nothing when it was her turn.
And then, Coco led her naked, cuffed, and ball-gagged house
guests to her sister's bedroom door.
Eliza watched as Coco unlocked Tippi's right wrist, folded the
cuff's hinge, and immediately re-secured it—Click-k-k-k!—around
Tippi's left wrist, thus revealing a new form
of bondage jewelry: handcuffs in ugly bracelet mode. Coco
then unlocked Pepper's bedroom door, planted a kiss on Tippi's
ball-gagged lips, wished her "Good night," opened the door, shoved
Tippi across the threshold, then quickly closed and locked
the door behind her.
Eliza's brown eyes frowned at Coco above her ball-gag. She
was locking Tippi in with Pepper? Was that in any way
fair? At least her friend wasn't handcuffed and thus,
technically, not helpless. She'd be able to defend her
virtue (or her remaining virtue). Eliza heaved a
gagged sigh. Now she wasn't being fair.
Tippi was virtuous... except, perhaps, in the tiny mind of some
Victorian prude who had her head firmly lodged up her tight
ass. Eliza glared at Coco anyway, blaming her for
everything, even her own ungracious thoughts. It was the
right thing to do.
And then, smiling her patented beautiful/sinister dimpled smile,
Coco took Eliza by her right arm and led her away.
|| Chapter 6
back to face the door as the key turned in the lock—Click!—and
placed her hands on the hard wooden surface (including her left
hand with its brand new, slightly heavy, spectacularly ugly,
steel and rubber bracelet she would not have chosen for
herself). Then, she turned back to face the bedroom,
leaving her back, butt, and the palms of both hands pressed
against the cool, impassable portal. She was expecting to
confront Pepper Vespini (aka Mistress Pepper of the Grabby Paws)
smiling and preparing to pounce. Instead...
Tippi blinked in amazement, reached behind her neck, unbuckled
the ball-gag still filling her mouth, and then (without knowing
exactly why), re-buckled the strap on its first hole and let it
dangle around her neck. Yes. By choice, Tippi was
now wearing two items of ugly jewelry, a cuff-bracelet
and a ball-gag-necklace! The only reasonable
explanation was that she'd been distracted by the totally
unsuspected spectacle exposed on Pepper's king-size bed!
The spectacle was Pepper herself, naked, lying on her
back on the designer bedspread, and with her limbs flung wide in
a full spread-eagle! And she had no choice in the
matter! Her wrists and ankles were locked in shiny steel
manacles and shackles! And hefty steel chains traveled to
the foot and head of the bed, apparently secured to the
bed-frame somewhere near the floor. And just to be clear,
even though she was a little distance away, Tippi could see that
the steel hardware was not ratcheting cuffs and nestled
link chains, like modern police handcuffs or
ankle-restraints. Pepper's ensemble was old-school, dungeon-grade,
with barrel-key locks set into the thick, wide wrist and ankle
cuffs, and the heavy-duty chain looked strong enough to give an
elephant pause (briefly).
"Wow!" Tippi was... amazed.
Also, Pepper was naked... totally naked. Other
than the wide steel bands closely locked around her wrists and
ankles, the only other thing she was "wearing" was a wide strip
of Elastoplast tape stretched and plastered across and against
her lips and most of her lower face. Tippi stared,
mesmerized by the shape of Pepper's lips standing proud on the
smooth, milky panel. Her own lips had looked like that in
the mirror, the last time she'd seen herself Elastoplast-gagged,
and the effect on Pepper was the same. It was...
Pepper had made no noise as Tippi made her involuntary entrance,
and she said nothing still. She simply favored her naked
young guest (with her ugly jewelry/restraints and amazed
expression) with her full attention.
By the way, Pepper wasn't centered on the gigantic bed.
Something like half the surface was available for a second
party... like Tippi... and she realized that couldn't be an
accident. The bed was meant to be shared.
Tippi swallowed, nervously. One might even say Pepper
was meant to be shared... if one was naughty.
Tippi padded forward and gazed down at the prisoner-of-the-bed.
The cuffs fit Pepper's relevant anatomy to perfection, and all
the edges were smooth and slightly rounded. The
spread-eagle was stringent... or maybe serious... but it didn't
appear to be what Tippi would call cruel. Pepper
had a little room to wiggle. The pose stretched
her muscles, flattened her stomach, and encouraged her boobs to
flatten. As Tippi watched, Pepper tugged on her cuffs,
kicked her feet, and tried to twist her hips. It caused
her breasts to quiver and shake in an intellectually engrossing
"Where's the key?" Tippi inquired.
Pepper (her brown eyes smiling) heaved a tape-gagged sigh, shook
her gagged head, and did her best to shrug.
Tippi got the message. Coco had the key, which
was hardly surprising. Eyes locked with Pepper, she heaved
a sigh, then... entirely of their own volition... her lips
curled in a wicked smile. That's right, wicked!
Tippie sat on the bed, close to the spread-eagled captive, and
rested her right hand (the one without the ugly bracelet) on
Pepper's flat, slightly stretched tummy. "Your big sister
intends for me to punish you myself, doesn't she?"
Pepper made no reply, other than to gaze at her naked young
guest, her eyes smiling above her tape-gag.
It was such a wicked/mischievous scenario! Tippi's hand
began moving, slowly, across Pepper's cute bellybutton, to the
top margin of her dark pubic bush, then back. Like her
smiling lips, the hand was operating entirely on its own.
Tippi was a disinterested bystander... or bysitter... if
that was a word. Anyway, it wasn't like Tippi wanted to
do decadent, depraved, and/or degenerate things to poor Pepper,
just because she was naked, bound, gagged, and completely
vulnerable... and she could... and there was no one to stop her.
"I hope you're sorry you diddled my hoo-haw last night without
permission," Tippi said, favoring Pepper with the appropriate
degree of disapproval. "That was very rude of
you. Most impolite."
Pepper was shivering, squirming, and tugging on her bonds.
Tippi considered this might be Pepper expressing remorse,
embarrassment, and contrition, but realized the sensations
engendered by her gliding hand might be a better explanation.
Tippi needed to have a serious discussion with her
various body parts about the potential awkwardness of them
deciding to do wicked things on their own without first securing
permission from her brain. Her hand had slid down Pepper's
stomach, across her cute little umbilicus, through her pubic
thatch, and was now sliding back and forth with her palm against
Pepper's hoo-haw! It was a replay of what had
happened last night, but with the roles reversed! And she
(meaning Tippi's hand) had been doing it for several seconds
before her brain noticed!
"Oh!" Tippi gasped, snatched back her hand like Pepper's pussy
was the proverbial hot stove, and leaped to her feet.
"I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry!" she gasped, blushing and
blinking in chagrin and embarrassment.
Pepper's reaction was to smile behind her tape-gag with renewed
intensity. She tugged on her bonds, again, nodded up at
Tippi's fluttering hand, then down at her own crotch. Her
message was a kinky and unmistakable invitation. As far as
Pepper was concerned, Tippi
needed encouragement, not forgiveness.
Still flustered, Tippi stared down at Pepper. Why the
hell did I do that? she wondered... then
frowned. "This has to end. There has to be a key
around here somewhere." She started rummaging
through the nearest bedside table. Its drawers held next
to nothing, and not a spare set of barrel-style and/or
handcuff keys. She padded around the bed to the other
night stand. There, she found what she thought was
probably a touchscreen-type remote control... a tube of
moisturizing lotion... and in the bottom drawer...
Tippi's eyes popped wide. She was staring at:
pair of steel clover-clamps, similar if not identical to the
pair Coco had used on Pepper when she was in the box down
realized she'd hit the jackpot! Either that or she'd
stumbled on a kinky treasure-trove-trap designed to overpower
her character and/or moral fortitude. If the latter was
the case, it succeeded.
● A pinwheel of shiny steel needles freely spinning on a
curved steel handle!
● A fur glove, which she realized was, of course, a fake-fur
● A large, clear plastic tube containing four or five
large feathers, probably goose or turkey!
● And finally, a wand-style vibrator nestled in a
recharging unit! And a glowing green LED suggested it
was fully charged!
Tippi's wicked smile returned, she reached into the drawer,
grasped the handle of the vibrator, and lifted from the
recharging unit. It came free with an authoritative snap!
She thumbed the switch—Click!—and the wand began to
vibrate. Hmmm... Tippi then shifted her
smile to Pepper. "No key... but look what I did
Pepper tugged on her inescapable steel bonds, again. Her
brown eyes were still smiling above her tape-gag.
Tippi sat on the bed, again, still smiling sweetly (wickedly)
and pressed the business end of the wand between Pepper's
legs. She been aiming for Pepper's clitoris, and by the
nude, spreadeagled, and tape-gagged prisoner's reaction, she'd
Pepper squirmed and fought her bonds. "Mrrrrrf!" It
was the first thing she'd "said" since Tippi's arrival.
After a few seconds of futile effort... a shiver shook her
entire naked form... and she resumed fighting her bonds, but
with greater enthusiasm.
Tippi was positive poor Pepper was actually trying to break the
chains and put an end to her "torment." She was not succeeding.
"She Hulk you're not," Tippi teased as she continued pressing
the buzzing knob home.
"Mrrrf!" Pepper mewled. Whether or not she was agreeing
with Tippi's She Hulk remark was unclear, but it was clear
Tippi was on the right track, meaning the vibrator was properly
positioned for her mischievous purpose.
Tippi continued smiling as she continued pressing the wand
home. Seconds passed... Several seconds
passed... Well more than a minute... Possibly
two... And finally, Pepper whined through her tape-gag,
went rigid, again, and climaxed. Was it a genuine
orgasm? Tippi would be the first to admit she was new at
this forcing-orgasms-from-helpless-damsels game, but if Pepper
was acting, it was a highly credible performance.
And then, suddenly... All the tomatoes on the vine went
ripe at once! The horses bolted from the barn, taking the
cows with them! And all the chickens came home to
roost! Tippi realized someone who looked exactly like
her had diddled Poor Pepper with a vibrating vibrator—then
had abruptly vanished—leaving her (the real Tippi)
holding the bag—and the vibrating vibrator! Tippi
thumbed off the vibrator in question and dropped it on the
bed. She was severely rattled! Her inner
goody-two-shoes had reasserted herself with a vengeance and she
"Oh-oh-oh!" Tippi blurted, blushing at several strategic
locations. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry!" Her
heart was pounding and she had to remind herself to
breathe! Also, her nipples were flushed and pointing in severe
opprobrium and profound disapproval. Her
hands fluttered about like a pair of hysterical pink doves, and
she could think of nothing she could do to make any of
it any better! There was nothing she could caress
or squeeze that would express her profound self-loathing and
offer a sincere apology.
And then, glancing idly to the side, Tippi noticed a crystal
decanter and a pair of upended crystal glasses resting on a
silver tray which, in turn, rested on a chest of drawers.
It was full of an amber liquid she assumed was whiskey, bourbon,
rum, brandy, or some other potent hooch. Without really
thinking about it, she leaped from the bed, scampered to the
decanter in question, pulled the crystal stopper, and filled one
of the glasses about half-full. Her intent was to offer it
to Pepper, for medicinal purposes. She then took a sip to
confirm that the liquid was potable—which caused her to
cough—and she nearly spilled the rest of the glass.
It was brandy, Tippi decided, really good brandy, the
hideously expensive kind that was aged in oaken barrels for a
gazillion years by Benedictine monks in the Alps.
Tippi took another sip... then an actual gulp. The brandy
was smooth, smoky, and all the other adjectives she'd heard used
to describe such stuff. In short, it was gooood!
She took another gulp, then refilled the glass (this time three-quarters
full), turned (carefully) and padded back to the bed.
Actually, she got halfway there, then retraced her barefoot
steps and replaced the stopper back on/in the decanter, took
another sip (gulp) to fortify her resolve—Slurp!—then
turned and padded back to the bed.
There, Pepper was waiting, naked, chained in a spread-eagle,
Elastoplast-gagged, a little sweaty. but none the worse
for wear. In fact, her big brown eyes were smiling.
It was hardly fair, in Tippi's chagrined but
no-longer-all-that-apologetic opinion. She took another
hit of brandy while she decided what to do next.
The brandy had been meant for Pepper, to be sure.
That was why Tippi had so carefully transported the sloshing
glass to the bed... but now it was only a little more than
half-full—Slurp!—meaning a little less than half
full. Tippi frowned. The remaining nectar wasn't
enough to console Poor Pepper. Tippi took another
sip. No, it clearly wasn't enough. And
besides, Poor Pepper's tape-gag was in the way. She
supposed she could always trek to the decanter for a refill...
but it was an awfully long way back to that chest of drawers...
then back to the bed. Maybe she could do something else to
make Poor Pepper feel better.
And then Tippi noticed the vibrator she'd left lying on the bed
and against Poor Pepper's right hip. "Purrfect!" Tippi
said with a dimpled smile of her own. "I'll apologize for
giving her an orgasm by giving her another!" (She'd meant
that to be a thought, but realized she'd said it out loud,
Tippi took a final gulp of brandy to steel her resolve—Sluuurp!—a
big one, then carefully set the now quarter-full glass
on the nightstand, climbed onto the bed, lay beside Poor Pepper,
embraced her from the side, smiled, lifted the vibrator for Poor
Pepper to see, and flicked the switch. Buzzzzzzz...
"This'll make you feel better," Tippi reassured the now
wide-eyed captive, then put the wand to use.
This time, she entertained Poor Pepper's boobs... tracing
figure-eight orbits of the twin globes... slowly spiraling in on
her erect nipples... then did the same to her lower tummy
(circling her bellybutton) and then her upper thighs... this
time spiraling in on Poor Pepper's Pussy! Tippi was sure
she was doing a better job than before, meaning the initial
Poor-Pepper-Pussy-Pressing she'd done pre-brandy... for which
she was now apologizing.
Pepper shivered, tugged on her cuffs, kicked her chained feet,
and squirmed in Tippi's embrace. Their skin slid together
as Pepper struggled, but it did nothing to help her
escape. One thing's for sure, Pepper thought, the
Tippi continued her apology, now concentrating all her efforts
on Poor-Pepper's-Pussy... and her efforts seemed to be
working. The chain-restrained thrashing continued.
And finally, after several seconds (or maybe a few minutes),
Poor Pepper went rigid in her bonds and squealed through
her tape-gag like never before! "Meeeeeee!"
Tippi had succeeded in her apology! And either Poor Pepper
had accepted the apology and had a crashing orgasm, or
she was suffering some sort of seizure. Thankfully, Poor
Pepper resumed breathing (panting) and Tippi was
reassured. Yep. Orgasm. No question.
Now, Poor Pepper was really sweating. Also, her
labia were flushed and glistening... and her nipples were still
Tippi knew she could do nothing about Poor Pepper's Pussy.
It needed rest; however, Poor Pepper's naked pokies were another
matter. Tippi released her embrace, then leaned to the
side to retrieve the glass of brandy. She took a slow,
careful sip, savoring the delicious liquor... then used the
buzzing wand to tease Poor Pepper's Pokies... first the left...
then the right... than back to the left.
Pepper's reaction was to tug on her bonds, shiver from head to
toe, knit her brows and favor her tormentor (lover) with a
resentful, tape-gagged glower. "Mrrrrrm!"
Tipper either didn't notice Poor Pepper's disapproval, or was
too busy enjoying the remaining brandy and toying with her
victim's/playmate's flushed nipples to care.
And then, it happened. The glass was empty. Tippi
carefully placed it on the nightstand, once again, then smiled
at Poor Pepper's frowning face. "I'll get you some later,"
she promised, then glanced at the distant decanter. "But
it's an awfully long way over there. Know what mean?
I need to rest first." Still running the buzzing wand over
Poor Pepper's nipples, Tippi reclined on the bed, as
before. She finally turned off the wand and embraced Poor
Pepper, resting her head on Pepper's left shoulder and
outstretched arm. She then discarded the vibrator between
Pepper's splayed legs... where it rolled and came to rest
against Pepper's right upper thigh with its rounded head just
nudging Pepper's still flushed and glistening labia.
Just great! Pepper silently groused. At least
it's turned off.
"Later," Tippi mumbled, "I'll get'cha some brandy.
... Later." And then, she closed her eyes.
Just great, Pepper reiterated. She gets soused
on my Hennessy XO, falls asleep, and I only get two
lousy orgasms. She heaved a gagged sigh, then closed
her eyes as well. But to be fair, that second
one wasn't all that lousy.
Minutes passed... And then... "Schmaaaaagh!"
Pepper rolled her eyes. Tippi was snoring. She was
also drooling out of the corner of her open mouth onto the slope
of Pepper's left breast. Just great, Pepper fumed.
Actually, Pepper decided, it's kinda funny.
Or will be in the morning.
||Trying New Things