Van © 1996
unlocked the cage door and gave me a one-sided hug. (One-sided
because, as you'll recall, my wrists were securely locked behind
my back with a pair of shiny new hinged handcuffs.) Her arms
enveloped my nude, embarrassed body and nearly crushed the air
from my lungs. I'm somewhat lilliputian (as you'll also
remember), and Aunt Carol is something of an Amazon (about a
good three inches taller than Erin—and strong), so she
very well might have crushed the air from my lungs if my
nose and mouth hadn't been buried in her ample bosom.
"Well, you don't look much the worse for wear," she gushed. "I
see a few very minor bruises and rope burns, but nothing that
couldn't be explained away by a good creative 'there I was
sliding into third' story."
"Ah, right now I don't think I could think of anything
very creative," I mumbled. "What are you doing here?…not that
I'm not always glad to see you."
"Let's have some tea and I'll explain." As she lead me out
of the vault and towards the kitchen, I began to recover my
"Could we stop by my room so I can get some clothes?" I asked.
"Nice try, Brooke," she laughed. "I know all about the game you
and Erin are playing. I'm not here to spoil the fun, just to
make sure things aren't out of control."
I sat in a kitchen chair while she put on the kettle.
Aunt Carol rummaged in the cabinets. "Darjeeling? Camomile?"
"Earl Grey. You could act as my accomplice," I ventured, "and
help me escape the nefarious clutches of your cruel and sadistic
"You don't really want me to do that, do you?"
"I'm not sure," I said quietly.
Carol chortled. "Even if you were sure, I wouldn't let you go.
I'm casting myself in a different role. Besides, your contract
is with Erin, not me."
"Erin told you about the contract?"
"No, I found it in the den, along with the keys to the vault,
that cage she had you in, what I assume are all the other doors
in this brick maze, and this tiny little key which I'm sure you
recognize." She held up a keyring with the handcuff key
"Want me to show you how it works?" I asked.
"You're hopeless," she laughed, "as well as helpless... and at
least for now, you're going to stay that way."
We chatted and lounged around the loft (or at least I lounged as
best as I could, hands cuffed behind my back and all), until
Erin came home about three o'clock. (Somewhat early for her.)
Erin was as surprised to see her Aunt Carol as I had been.
Standing and facing each other, the family resemblance was
unmistakable. Save twenty years, three inches, (and two or three
bra sizes), they might have been twin sisters.
"I told you on the phone she was fine," Erin groused.
"I knew she'd be fine, but as I told you, I'm concerned that
Brooke is going stir-crazy locked in that cage all day." Aunt
Carol flopped next to me on the sofa and gave my shoulder a
sisterly squeeze. "I just thought I'd come over and brighten her
day. Besides," she winked at me, "I never could resist a captive
"Or an abominable pun," I groaned.
"We discussed that too," Erin said. "You're the one that talked
me into taking my vacation early, so I could spend the rest of
the month with the 'Prisoner of the Vault' here."
"Vacation?" I asked.
"It's a slow time at work anyway," Erin explained. "Nothing new
will be happening 'til the new LAN servers get here, and they
won't really need me when they do get here, so I swapped
my vacation time with Ronnie. I was going to surprise you with
the news," she turned and glared at Aunt Carol, "until a certain
uninvited guest spoiled things."
"Well, rather that spoiling surprises," Carol laughed, "I'm
full of them. Help me bring a box up from the van and
Erin and her aunt started towards the front door when Carol
turned and pointed in my direction. "Forgetting something,
Erin?" she asked.
"Oh, go ahead," I said innocently. "I'll be fine right here."
Ten minutes and thirty yards of rope later I was gracefully if
somewhat indignantly reclined on the couch, hitched and wrapped
from neck to toes, and chewing on a cotton washcloth held
tightly between my teeth with the sash from my bathrobe.
Several minutes of impotent struggling later Erin and Carol
returned wheeling a large wooden crate.
"Whew! Good thing your van has that hydraulic lift," said Erin,
"or we'd never have gotten this thing out the side in one piece.
It doesn't weigh that much, but it's so bulky."
"The lift is so I can move my sculptures with minimum effort and
expense. (Carol is a very successful artist.) Speaking
of which..." Aunt Carol opened the several latches sealing the
top of the crate and lifted the lid to reveal a second, much
smaller crate, and two large dufflebags. With Erin's help they
lifted out the second crate and opened it to reveal an exquisite
bronze sculpture about nine inches in height. "Behold 'Andromeda
Waiting!'" Carol proclaimed proudly.
Erin gasped in amazement. I could only give a wide-eyed stare.
(I may have gasped too, but with all that terry cloth stuffed in
my mouth who could tell?)
The sculpture was exquisite. Seated on a realistically wave-worn
rock encrusted with tiny barnacles, starfish, and such was a
tiny maiden with wrists and ankles locked in heavy chains. Her
plastered and hanging hair and the shining finish of her bronze
skin gave the uncanny impression of streaming moisture, as if a
cloud of spray had just passed over the rock. Head bowed and
eyes downcast, her pitiable expression was the very image of
resignation to a tragic fate. (The effect might have been
somewhat morbid, if I hadn't known the story of her coming
rescue... a rescue I could have used just about then.)
"The foundry only cast 20 of these," Aunt Carol explained. "This
is the first satisfactory test casting, and is unnumbered—but I
signed it for you."
"She's beautiful," Erin whispered, stroking the tiny maiden’s
head and back. She embraced her aunt and kissed her cheek. While
Erin began rearranging our knickknacks to find Andromeda a
prominent place to await her rescue by a little bronze Perseus
(who probably wasn't going to show any time soon), Aunt Carol
hauled the two dufflebags out of the crate and dropped them on
"This stuff is for your experiment," Carol explained. "I stopped
at the home of a performance artist I know and picked out some
things to keep you ladies occupied for the next few days or
weeks or whatever." She dumped the contents of one bag, creating
a large pile of what appeared to be belts, straps, and various
other leather and metal accessories of uncertain utility.
"Aunt Carol!" Erin laughed. "I never knew!"
"Hey, I just thought I might broaden your horizons, and give you
two something different to play with. You know, a little break
from rope and handcuffs."
Oh joy! Auntie Carol had brought her niece a "Bondage
Dolly Play Set"—and I got to be the dolly.
"Now some of this stuff is kind of complicated," Aunt Carol
explained, "so you'll have to watch closely." At this point,
things got unconventional fast. To our utter
astonishment—Carol began undressing in the middle of our
living room!!! Erin was speechless. (Me too. Gag or no.)
Her costume reduced to panties and bra, Carol rummaged through
the leather goods and shook out what looked like a bridle or
harness for some sort of weird alien horse. She stepped through
part of the tangle with one leg, put her arms through what
seemed to be a couple of randomly chosen leather loops, shrugged
her shoulders, and was wearing a collection of dangling straps
"Oh, this will never work," she complained. "There's just no way
you can put one of these things on yourself. You have to put it
on someone else." She stepped out of 'it' and stood rubbing her
chin, puzzling out a solution. Suddenly she snapped her fingers.
"Got it! Erin, you can be the model. Grab this stuff and
meet me in your bedroom. I'll get my clothes and follow."
Erin was still dazed by the experience of seeing her semi-naked
aunt parading around the living room modeling kinky leather
goods. (Aunt Carol was a knockout, by the way. Athletic,
tanned (and freckled), with firm, generous breasts, and the sort
or grace, muscle tone, and vigor I hope to have when I'm
the high side of 40.)
"Huh?" Erin remarked profoundly.
Aunt Carol pointed to part of the heap at her feet and the hall
door. "Go!" she commanded, and began donning her skirt, blouse,
Erin stood in apparent ambivalence for a moment, then shrugged,
gathered the tinkling leather mass, and headed for her room as
Aunt Carol came over to me, buttoning her blouse. She bent over,
kissed my forehead and whispered into my ear. "You'll want to
watch what happens in the next several minutes quite carefully,"
she said. "You'll probably want to write about it some day."
With a wink, she left my rather puzzled, amazed, and well-roped
self and walked after her niece.
I spent the next half hour trying to spit out my gag and wiggle
some slack from my ropes, all without success. At some point I
grew bored (again) and sort of dozed off.
Next thing I
knew, Aunt Carol was standing in the hall door with a broad
smile on her face. In her hand was a leather leash which seemed
to be attached to something out of sight down the hall. When
Aunt Carol stepped into the room and tugged on the leash, I was
greeted with a truly amazing sight.
Stumbling into the living room came Erin, naked but for several
dozen interlacing straps, a complex leather corset, and a tiny
leather g-string. The leash in Carol's hand was clipped to a
broad collar clasped tightly around Erin's neck and secured with
several small buckles. From the collar branched a network of
straps and metal rings that pinned her arms very tightly to her
sides and attached to the corset and each other with various
buckles and clips. Her wrists were secured in broad leather
cuffs and held at her sides by leather straps circling each
thigh. Similar cuffs secured her elbows and upper arms and were
joined to the system of straps circling her arms and torso. The
hourglass corset held its tight shape by a cunning web of tiny
straps and buckles and had a small window-like cutout for her
navel. Erin's pert breasts were restricted by several very small
straps which crossed from the top of the corset and various
parts of the upper harness to anchor two metal rings through
which her nipples protruded. A buckle and strap from the base of
the corset passed through a ring at the top of the shield-like
front of the g-string. When Erin turned at her Aunt's request, a
tight strap from the base of the g-string to the lower back of
the corset was revealed. Broad leather cuffs encircling each
ankle and linked by a foot of silver chain completed the
ensemble. All of the buckles and snaps on the harness, corset,
collar, and cuffs were securely locked with tiny, silver,
heart-shaped padlocks that tinkled like bells as Erin pranced
Lightly freckled at the arms and shoulders, porcelain white on
her breasts and dimpled behind, Erin's fair skin was a striking
contrast to the dull black leather of the harness, which was
matte and textured like the hide of some exotic wild animal.
Erin's flesh bulged slightly between the spaces separating the
thin, tight straps, and as she made what little motion the
harness allowed, her ineffectual muscles flexed, causing the
straps to ply and creak. From her rapid panting, it appeared the
tight corset was restricting her breathing a little. A sheen of
sweat glistened on her forehead, shoulders, and between her
captive breasts. She strutted and posed, shameless in her
"Interesting sensations, aren't they?" Aunt Carol asked.
"Did you have to buckle these straps so tight?"
"You get used to it after a while," Carol chuckled.
"After how much of a while?" Erin asked uncertainly.
"I was part of the performance piece these little numbers were
designed for. I put up with those straps four hours a night for
six weeks. After a while the strobe lights and what the artist
called music began to be more of a bother than the harness.
Luckily the show didn't tour."
Erin and I exchanged startled glances. Apparently Auntie Carol
had a much richer past than we had ever guessed.
Erin fluttered her fingers and found she could touch no part of
her bonds. (The posing was over. She seemed to be seeking a
means of escape.) "Weren't you embarrassed?" she asked.
Carol laughed. "Not embarrassed at all. No one can recognize you
when you're wearing one of these." She held up a leather hood.
"Here, I'll show you."
Erin took small, chain encumbered steps backwards as Carol
approached her with hood in hand. Despite half-voiced protests,
the butter-soft leather was pulled over her face and down around
her head. The hood had small, exotically slanted openings for
the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Working quickly, Carol gathered
Erin's red curls, pulled them through a hole in the back of the
hood, and let them swing free in a ponytail. The hood fit like a
second skin, and Erin gasped as the laces were tugged and
"We usually wore spandex body suits under the harness system,"
Carol explained, "so the only clues to our identities were eye
and hair colors...that and our figures."
"Ah, can we put this thing on Brooke now?" Erin asked with
forced nonchalance. "I think I've learned all I need to know
about how it works."
"Oh, there's more," Carol smiled and held up a small harness and
strap affair with a large ball of foam attached. "You see, we
weren't allowed to talk to the audience."
"No! I don’t think so. No gag!" Erin protested.
"I do think so," Carol answered pleasantly, and began
strapping on the harness. It had a large ring in the back (for
the ponytail), and several straps that circled Erin's forehead
and ran down either side of her nose, under her chin, and
between her lips, anchoring the large foam ball in her mouth.
"Stop! No! Aunt Carol, NO! I won't
let you! I-won'-mwermpf!" A final broad padded strap
buckled tightly over ball, mouth, and lips, rendering Erin
nearly completely mute.
Carol stepped back and we both watched as Erin danced in small
circles, straining against the harness, tossing her head, and
making well-baffled angry howls. She struggled and kicked for
several minutes, bloody murder in her eyes. (I have only seen my
roommate truly pissed-off a few times, but when she gets really
angry, look out! She turns into the proverbial
After several minutes Erin wore herself down. Her gagged screams
turned to muffled sobs, and she collapsed to the floor, angry
tears streaming down her leather covered face. Aunt Carol sat
down beside her, rocked Erin's tightly restrained body in her
arms, and crooned a lullaby 'til the sobbing subsided.
"You know why I did this?" Carol asked. Erin looked into
her face with tear stained eyes.
"I did this for the sake of your friendship with Brooke. If you
continue this game the way you've been going, without either
finishing it or taking it further,...it will end in heartbreak.
I know you better than you think, Erin. You talk like a free
spirit, but in the end you always choose the safe course. You've
started something you don't know how to stop, and poor Brooke is
going crazy from frustration and boredom," (Who, me?) "and
you're letting it happen because you're afraid. I won't allow
it. I love you both too much."
Carol produced a Kleenex from somewhere and wiped Erin's eyes.
"Sometimes the best way to teach a child to swim is to toss her
in the deep end. If you won't take control, I will."
Carol stood and rummaged through the still plentiful pile of
leather goodies. She looked back at Erin and winked. "You think
about all this while I get you and Brooke ready."
(Ready for what?)
Erin lay on her side and watched the show as Aunt Carol
unwrapped my ropes and began dressing me in a somewhat less
complex if every bit as secure leather harness of my own.
My little number had twin straps with a buckle at one end and a
series of metal rings and straps at the other. Carol
parted the two straps and dropped them over my head leaving the
buckle dangling between my shoulder blades and the rest of the
harness dangling down my front. She then selected the
central strap, pulled it between my legs and threaded the end
through the back buckle. The lower portion of the strap
didn’t simply run through my sex like a crotch rope, but was
comprised of a pair of narrow, suede-soft, and pliant straps
held apart by small metal brackets. Nestled between my
legs, (and after careful and highly intimate adjustments) the
straps held some of by favorite body parts—open. (How
shall I put this? I could feel a breeze in places I
normally didn't.) Aunt Carol tugged the end of the strap
taut and secured the buckle. The remaining straps of the
harness circled my arms above and below my breasts, and at waist
and hips. Like I said, pretty simple next to Erin's
"night-of-a-thousand-buckles" showgirl costume.
My arms were tightly pinned, but my steel cuffed wrists were not
held down by any part of the harness. Carol remedied this
oversight with the most bizarre thong bikini bottom I have ever
seen. It secured around my hips with thin straps that
snapped closed at the small of my back, covered (just barely) my
pubis, climbed over the harness strap already cleaving my
behind, and rather that attaching to the rear hip straps, was
tightly secured around the hinge of my handcuffs—very
tightly secured. I call it bizarre, not because of its
method of wear or the fact that it was made of leather, but
because its interior surface was lined with about a hundred
tiny, soft, (and delightful) rubber nubbles. The narrow
harness straps divided, stretched, and exposed parts of the
sensitive inner linings of my sex—exposed them to the attentions
of the nubbles, and when I flexed my arms or twisted my hips, I
was treated to a tantalizing and arousing caress. It was
sort of like being licked between the legs by a hungry kitten (I
imagine). Unless Erin had something really
interesting under her g-string, I was getting the better end of
the deal. (That's right. Erin's floor show, Aunt Carol's
coup de main, and now "Nubbles the friendly g-string" had
made me horny again.)
My ankles and knees were strapped together and I was laid on the
floor (so to speak) next to Erin. Aunt Carol was gathering
up the remaining miscellaneous straps, gags, cuffs, collars,
blindfolds, hoods, and (what the heck is that thing?)
and putting them back in the duffel bags when the phone on the
end table rang.
Erin and I flinched and reflexively screamed through our gags.
We then looked at each other sheepishly. (We weren't so
sure we wanted to be rescued by whoever was on the line
anyway.) Carol chuckled and strolled to the phone.
Mr. Hudson was Erin's boss. Erin mewed through her gag,
blushed bright red, and bent into the fetal position as if
trying to hide herself. I rolled my eyes in disgust.
Did she think the guy was psychic?
Carol smiled and continued talking. "No, she's out doing
some last minute shopping with her roommate Brooke. I'm
her Aunt Carol." She put her hand over the speaker and
whispered to us, "I won't tell him you're tied up at the
moment...too cliché." She removed her hand.
"Yes.... No.... That's right.... They're both
going to be my guests at my studio.... OK, I'll tell
her. ... What was that? The network servers
are an additional two weeks back ordered? Oh my!....
Yes, I'll tell her.... Via e-mail.... Of
course!.... A pleasure talking with you too Mr.
Hudson.... OK, Carl it is then.... Goodbye!"
She hung up the phone. "What a flirt," she remarked.
Erin nodded her head in mute agreement.
Aunt Carol continued repacking her gear. "Erin, Mr.
Hudson... I mean Carl, says you can take at least an
extra week's vacation if you want, maybe two, and you should
send him an e-mail note if that's what you want." She
finished repacking the duffles, but instead of putting them back
in the crate, she tossed them in the corner of the room. She
then bent over Erin and began doing something to her gag.
Abruptly the noise level in the room rose a few decibels, and
Carol tossed what appeared to be a small metal cap into the
crate. (Apparently the gag had some sort of pluggable tube built
into it.) Next, she lifted Erin off the floor and
deposited her in the crate. Erin gave a few muffled
protests and gracefully flutter-kicked her chained feet, but was
no match for "Carol the Amazon." I had a floor level view
up Aunt Carol's skirt as she stood on tip-toe and leaned into
the crate. I heard more gagged mumblings from within, as
well as various metallic snaps and clicks. Then Carol
straightened up, looked at me over her shoulder and
grinned. It was my turn.
First Carol untied my gag, removed the washcloth stuffing my
mouth, and retied the sash between my lips giving me a tight
cleave-gag. (I wasn't as well-silenced as I had been
before, but like Erin, I could now breath through my mouth if I
had to.) Carol picked me up and as I was lowered into the
crate I saw Erin kneeling on her haunches, her head nearly
touching her knees. Numerous elastic shock cords were
clipped to several padeyes bolted to the inside of the crate,
and to parts of her harness, collar, and hood. I was
deposited on my knees in a similar but opposing position, and
Aunt Carol began attaching similar cords to my harness.
She then gathered several short loose cords lying between us on
the crate floor, and joined us harness to harness. The
inside of the crate (especially the floor) was heavily padded,
so the forced immobility wasn’t that uncomfortable.
Whenever Erin moved I could feel various cords stretch and
recoil, tugging at my body. We actually had about an inch
of limited, increasingly restricted motion, but couldn't touch
the sides of the crate with any parts of our anatomies.
Carol reached into the crate, tightened and reknotted the
doubled cotton sash tied between my teeth. (Erin's hood
and harness gag obviously needed no checking.) "Almost
ready," she remarked.
She returned to the bottom of the crate (not an easy task now,
through our network of "bungee-bonds") and produced a square net
of nylon straps the approximate dimensions of the crate
lid. This was stretched and snapped to the upper padeyes,
and a taut net ceiling now kept us from raising our heads.
"Erin has always loved the farm, Brooke," Carol chatted.
"I don't know what she's told you about my place, but I think
you'll love it too." The lid began to close. "We'll
probably miss most of the rush hour traffic, so the trip back
shouldn't take more than a few hours. Try to get some
rest." The lid closed.
Darkness. The distant muffled sound of the lid's latches
snapping shut. Erin's gagged moan—loud (in the enclosed
space,) close (reassuring). The strap sliding against my
sex, (the thong rubbing in counterpoint). My fingers
flutter and touch a bungee cord which vibrates like a bass
string. The air—hot and close and laden with musk.
Motion! We're moving! We stop. (The
elevator?) We move again. We vibrate; stop; move;
slide; stop. (Waiting.) A lower
vibration. (The van's engine?) Vibration.
Vibration. ... Vibration. ... Vibration. ... (Dreams.)
| Chapter 3