| by Van ©2013
herself off the bed and tiptoed to the master bedroom's
bathroom. She relieved herself, splashed water on her face
and patted it dry, then brushed her hair. She glanced at
her right wrist and noted that while Tori's flex-cuff had rubbed
it a little raw, the redness would fade rapidly, long before the
start of the evening's festivities. There would be no
unsightly bruise she'd have to hide with makeup or a
bracelet. She considered a quick shower, but decided to
postpone it until she was ready to get dressed for the
party. There was work to do.
She padded from the bathroom to her walk-in closet, noting on
the way that Tori was either still asleep or pretending to
be. Kim quickly dressed in panties, bra, jeans, tank-top,
and sneakers... and emerged from the closet to find Tori awake
and smiling at her, reclined on her side in much the same
languid, nude pose as last night, when Kim had first seen her on
the bed. The sun was not yet up, but the nightlight cast
enough light to reveal Tori's toned, fit body. A familiar
frisson shivered through Kim's pussy at the beautiful
"You're up early," Tori observed.
"Things to do," Kim grinned. "C'mon. Clean yourself
up. We need to do the final test of your part of the
Tori yawned before answering. "Now? Before
breakfast? What's to test?"
"I repositioned the lights like I said I would," Kim
explained, "We need to verify the changes."
Tori flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.
"And we can't do that after sunrise?"
"I want to check it off my list before it's time to wake up
Tori heaved a sigh, then sat up and swung her feet off the
bed. "Okay." She stood, did a full-body stretch, and
ambled towards the bathroom.
"Don't bother getting dressed," Kim called after her.
"So you can leer at my naked body?" Tori yelled from the
"There is that," Kim chuckled, "but it's a lighting test,
remember? And keep your voice down."
Seconds passed, then the toilet flushed and Tori returned.
She'd brushed her hair and washed her face, but that was
all. "You sure you don't want to swap roles?"
Kim smiled. "Is the mighty, brave Tori Ballantine
"Not at all," Tori purred, then pulled Kim into an embrace and
they kissed. "I was just thinking how good you'd look in
my place," Tori sighed, then led the way from the bedroom.
They quietly passed Clem's guest bedroom, then made their way to
the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement.
Kim's was a typical suburban basement with natural lighting
provided by several window-wells. At the moment the wells
were dark, of course, but during the day they admitted at least
some light, attenuated by the plexiglass domes that kept
the wells free of fallen leaves, the frosted glass of their
double-paned windows, and the anti-burglar bars solidly bolted
to the inside window frames.
The basement was deep. That is, it had a high
ceiling. The exposed beams were at least ten feet above
the concrete floor, and the plumbing runs were either tucked
between the rafters or against the walls to minimize overhead
obstructions. The furnace and hot-water tank were also
against the walls. Steel columns added support to the
structure overhead, but they were widely placed. Clearly,
the architect's intent was to allow for a finished space.
All that was needed was a suspended ceiling and some
paneling. However, Kim's basement was not
finished. Also, its "decor," what there was of it, was
There was the usual clutter of cardboard boxes and plastic
tubs—probably containing holiday decorations, camping equipment,
etc.—but all were neatly stacked, shelved, and arranged to
maximize the available floor space. A track-lighting
system was bolted to the floor joists overhead. Nothing
unusual there; however, an eye-bolt and two dangling pulleys
were screwed into a beam and a long steel cable traveled from
eye-bolt to pulley to pulley and down to a wall-mounted,
hand-cranked winch. Also, the support columns and concrete
walls and floor were painted matte black, not some light color
as might have been expected to help relieve the gloom.
and Tori walked to a folding table off to one side.
Arranged on its black tablecloth were four black leather cuffs
with chrome hardware, a black leather ball-gag, several open
padlocks of different sizes, and an iPad in a leather
case. The cuffs were of the "suspension" variety, with
fake-fur linings and wide, extended straps with heavy
D-rings. One pair was sized for wrists and the other for
ankles. All the buckles were lockable, including the
The gag was
actually a hybrid design. The ball was rather small and
was attached to a short plastic pipe, which in turn was attached
to a rubber panel riveted to the strap. The ball and
spacer were intended to fit entirely inside the wearer's mouth,
and both were pierced by a quarter-inch breathing hole.
The panel would press against the wearer's lips when the strap
was buckled tight.
Tori picked up one of the cuffs and began buckling it around her
"Tighter than that," Kim remarked.
Tori rolled her eyes, then jerked the strap as tight as
it would go and secured the buckle. She frowned at Kim as
the professor handed her a small padlock. "I thought this
was just a test?"
Kim shrugged. "The locks are reflective. This is a lighting
"Obsessive much?" Tori muttered as she clicked the padlock
through the hasp in the buckle's tongue. She strapped the
second cuff around her right wrist, equally tight, and secured
it with another small padlock. Click. She
then lifted her left foot onto the seat of a metal folding
chair, Kim handed her one of the two remaining cuffs, and she
strapped it around her ankle. Tori changed feet, Kim
handed her the remaining cuff, and she buckled it in
place. "Okay," Tori said as she strolled to the middle of
the basement, "lets get this over with so we can eat
breakfast. I'm always hungry after a night of binding and
boinking a faculty member." The overhead pad-eye and
pulley nearest the winch were several feet apart, and the pulley
between was directly over Tori's head.
Meanwhile, Kim walked to the winch, threw a lever on the
housing, and turned the handle. Cable played off the
winch's drum, accompanied by the sound of the slipping ratchet
mechanism. Tock, tock, tock, tock... Slowly,
the cable slid through the two overhead pulleys— Tock,
tock, tock, tock... —and a pair of widely separated
spring-clips lowered to within Tori's easy reach.
The cable formed an increasingly deep "W" as the spring-clips
Tori clicked the left spring-clip through the D-ring at the end
of the extended strap of her left wrist cuff; however, the right
clip was too far for her to reach with both hands with her left
Ever helpful, Kim strolled to the soon-to-be helpless prisoner,
smiled, and secured the right cuff's terminal D-ring with the
right spring-clip. Click. Tori's hands were
now at shoulder height and about three feet apart. "Spread
'em," Kim ordered as she knelt at Tori's feet. Tori spread
her feet until Kim was able to secure the terminal D-rings of
her ankle-cuffs to spring-clips attached to short chains which
in turn were attached to eye-bolts sunk in the floor, first on
the right— Click. —and then on the
left. Click. Tori's feet were now flat on
the floor and about three feet apart.
Tori watched as Kim strolled to the table, returned with a
handful of open padlocks, and began clicking them through the
hasps in the spring clips. "Did I say obsessive?" she
sighed. "I meant obsessive and compulsive." The four
spring-clips were now locked, as well as the buckles of Tori's
"Anything worth doing is worth overdoing," Kim chuckled,
then walked to the winch, clicked the selector lever, and began
turning the crank and shortening the cable. Tock,
tock, tock, tock... Tori's arms ascended, and Kim
kept turning the crank until the naked blond was at full
stretch. Tock, tock, tock... tock... tock.
Any more and Tori's heels would leave the floor and she'd be up
on her toes.
"You know I'm going to get you for this," Tori muttered
as she watched Kim stroll to the table and return with the
ball-gag and another small padlock. "You're enjoying this
way too much."
"Whatever are you talking about?" Kim chuckled.
"You're taking this waaay beyond what's required for a
simple lighting test." She nodded towards the track-lights
overhead. "I don't think you changed anything, anyway."
Kim smiled. "Now you notice? Actually, I
adjusted the outer cans at least three degrees. Open."
"Now look—Mrrrf!" Tori glared at Kim as she shoved
the ball into her mouth and held it in place with her right hand
"We never discussed how long this test would last," Kim
purred, "did we? You mentioned breakfast—but I
The professor stepped around Tori's spreadeagled body and
buckled the gag's strap at the nape of her neck, freeing her
hair before she jerked the strap tight—
"Mrrph!" —and clicked the padlock through the
hasp. She strolled around her prisoner 'til they were face
to face—as in angry, gagged face to smiling, gloating
Tori shook her head and growled through the gag. Her
shoulder-length blond hair fluttered and settled. Her blue
eyes continued staring daggers at her "treacherous" captor.
Kim reached out and cupped Tori's breasts, then used her thumbs
and forefingers to gently tease her now erect
nipples. "I really don't need your help handling
Clementine," she purred. "And don't worry. I'll lock
the basement door so she won't wander down here." Kim slid
her hands down Tori's body and began running her right hand
through Tori's crotch. Meanwhile, her left hand was gently
squeezing the prisoner's right buttock. "Who knows what
Clementine would do if she found you like this?"
"Mrrrfh!" Tori continued to glare, but telltale, shivering
shudders quivered through her stretched, helpless body,
betraying her excitment. As much as Tori would have liked
to not react to what Kim was doing to her, she was only
"Besides," Kim whispered, "this is the first item I can
completely check off my things-to-do-before-the-party
list." She took a step back, turned and strolled to the
table, then returned with the iPad. She folded the cover
back, then opened a note-taking app and made a show of swiping
her finger and making a check-mark. "Tori
Ballantine—ready." She then lifted the iPad and walked a
slow circle around her captive, taking several photos as she did
so. Returning to the front, she reversed the screen so
Tori could see, then swiped her finger, scrolling through a
slideshow of Tori's spreadeagled, naked body and her angry,
gagged face. "Excellent," Kim chuckled. "I'll have
to e-mail these to the others immediately."
"Attitude, young lady," Kim chuckled. "I know some blogs
where these photos would be very well-received.
Don't make me make you famous."
Tori's answer was her continuing hostile stare.
Kim closed the iPad's cover as she strolled towards the
stairs. "See you at the party," she said as she climbed
the steps, "when it's your turn to play." She turned off
the basement lights when she reached the top, then crossed the
threshold and closed the door.
Tori thought she might have heard the key turning in the lock,
but the door was pretty far and she couldn't be sure. The
only light in the basement was now the very weak glow
emanating from the small, widely-spaced, barred windows.
The sun was beginning to rise. She tugged on her wrist
bonds . The wire enforcing her spreadeagled pose shook a
little, but that was it. The only sound was the quiet
click and clatter of the padlocks securing the cuffs and
I didn't think Doc had it in her, Tori mused. It's
a good prank, but she must know I'm gonna get her back... in
spades. She tugged on the cuffs, again, with the
same result. Of course she knows, Tori
realized. She's counting on it... and I
have all day to think about it.
|Oh, the Humanities!
Clem from the medical restraints at dawn, then suggested she
take a shower, adding that her "costume" would be waiting when
she returned to the bedroom. Clem stretched and started
for the bedroom door, then gasped— "Eeek!"
—when Kim pulled her naked body into a warm hug and kissed her
"I'm so glad you've decided to help me with this party,"
Kim said; then kissed Clem again, released her embrace, and took
a step back.
"Uh, okay." Blushing like crazy—and still naked—Clem
padded from the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom, the
same bathroom where Tori had "helped" her prepare for bed.
She noted her clothes were gone, rather than being scattered on
the tiled floor as she'd last seen them.
Everything Clem needed for her morning toilette was there: a new
toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, a brush and comb set, a
hairdryer, and a stack of thick, fluffy towels. She
relieved herself, then took her time in the shower. As the
hot water cascaded down her body and Clem scrubbed herself
clean, her thoughts drifted to Gwen. She was worried, or
more precisely, concerned. Who knows what's happening
to her? Clem trusted Kim Pappas, so she pushed her
apprehensions away. Gwen and I can compare notes
later... after all this is over.
Eventually Clem emerged from the bathroom clean, refreshed, her
shoulder-length hair shining and neatly brushed, and with a
towel wrapped around her torso. She padded back to the
bedroom. The professor was gone, the restraints that had
secured her to the bed were nowhere to be seen, the bed itself
was neatly made, and waiting on the bed—
"You have got to be kidding me," Clem huffed.
Arrayed on the bed was what was unmistakably a French maid's
uniform, a black dress trimmed with white lace, a white apron
with more lace, and a white lace cap. There were also
black, high-heeled pumps with ankle-straps, black fishnet
stockings, black elastic garters trimmed with yet more
white lace, frilly panties, and a pushup bra. Finally,
there was a folded note on expensive paper.
Clem picked up the note, unfolded it, and read. Its
message was a single word: "Please?" It was
written in an elegant, almost calligraphic script, presumably by
Kim Pappas. Clem couldn't help but smile. French
Maid was kinda appropriate. After all, she was supposed to
help serve at a party. Of course, the way all of this was
going, an Alice in Wonderland outfit might have been even more
on the mark.
"In for a penny..." Clem muttered under her breath, and began to
dress. The dress was mini-skirt short and off the
shoulders, but with short frilly sleeves that covered half her
upper arms. She was showing quite possibly the most boobs
of anything she's ever worn, including her high school
prom dress. The frilly lace of the skirt's lower hem
didn't quite meet the garters holding up her stockings,
revealing an inch or two of bare thigh. If she wasn't
careful how she moved, Clem knew she'd be flashing her bloomers
all day. The lace bonnet was totally nonfunctional, and
the ends of the pair of ribbons dangling from the back tickled
her neck and shoulders. Finally, there was a black velvet
collar that tied around her throat, like some sort of absurd pet
Clem gazed at herself in the full length mirror on the back of
the bedroom door. "Ridiculous," she growled, then a smile
curled her lips. "And sexy." She opened the door and
minced towards the kitchen. It was going to take her a
little time to get used to the high heels.
|Oh, the Humanities!
pleasant breakfast—marred only by the embarrassment (and
compliment) of being oohed and awed over by Kim when she
appeared in the kitchen dressed in full Gallic domestic
regalia—Clem got to know the public rooms of the professor's
house very well, first with a feather duster and then
with a vacuum cleaner. Meanwhile, Kim was cleaning the
kitchen and bathroom, not that anything needed
cleaning. The entire house was spotless, as far as Clem
After lunch, the caterers began to appear. Polite
women—only a few of whom were openly amused by Clem's
attire—dropped off plastic-covered platters of hors d'oeuvres,
steel chafing dishes, take-out containers full of more
hors d'oeurves, and bottles of wine, spirits, mixers, and
soda. Kim's kitchen had two ovens, a third warming oven, a
very spacious refrigerator, and a chilled wine cabinet.
Everything could be stored safely until the party. The
caterers left written instructions on how to complete the final
preparations, then departed.
Late in the afternoon, Clem was going over the checklists when
Kim appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a cardboard box.
"The hot appetizers are ready, aren't they?" Kim inquired.
"Yes," Clem answered. All I need to do is light the Sterno
"I'll do that right after I get dressed," Kim said, then set the
box down on what little free space remained on the kitchen
island. "But first, I have to complete your
costume." She opened the box and Clem stepped closer.
"What else is needed?" Clem sighed. "I couldn't be more
French maid if you—oh!" Whatever enhancement Clem was
about to suggest was lost forever. Eyes wide behind her
glasses, she stared into the box and beheld a set of cuffs and a
tangle of light steel chains. The cuffs were steel lined
with black leather. The chains links were of the nested
variety that flow together, like liquid ribbons of silvered
steel. "Really? Chains?"
Kim smiled and lifted the cuffs and chains from the box.
"A French maid is nice, but a French maid in chains is even
Clem was dubious. "A French maid in chains?"
"Remember the theme of the party, Clementine," Kim purred.
"The damsel-in-distress," Clem sighed, and held out her
wrists. She watched as Kim closed a cuff around her left
wrist. It locked with a quiet click. Her
right wrist was next. Click. And then her
right and left ankles. Click. Click.
The connecting chains were in one piece, and configured like a
sideways "H." A two-foot vertical chain joined the center
rings of the two-feet of horizontal chains separating the wrist
and ankle cuffs. There were no dangling padlocks as the
steel cuffs had internal locking mechanisms. The leather
linings were smooth and comfortable, and the entire ensemble was
surprisingly light. "Am I supposed to be a naughty
French maid?" Clem drawled. The chains were an
encumbrance, but she could tell she'd still be able to continue
the food preparations and carry a small tray.
"Oh, yes," Kim said with a smile, then kissed Clem's lips.
"But mainly, you're unfortunate enough to find yourself in the
employ of a beautiful, rather kinky aristocrat with a serious
Clem rattled her chains and smiled. Truth be told, she tinkled
her chains. They were too light to actually rattle.
"That would be you? Cruella de Pappas?"
"Something like that," Kim chuckled. "Now, continue your
work while I get myself ready. Chop, chop!"
"Oui, madame," Clem responded with a saucy smirk and a
curtsey accompanied by more chain tinkling.
"Don't make me get my riding crop," Kim chuckled as she
left the kitchen. "When the doorbell starts ringing, leave
it to me," she called back as the kitchen door swung closed
"Crazy," Clem sighed, her lips still curled in a smile.
She turned and went back to work.
|Oh, the Humanities!
into an indigo cocktail dress. It had very short sleeves,
a generous scoop-front, and the lower hem came to just above her
knees. Smoky black pantyhose and black heels completed the
outfit. Her hair remained as usual, loose about her
shoulders and parted down the middle. She smiled at
herself in the bedroom mirror, pleased with the result.
She'd already done her makeup—understated, also as
always—and knew she looked hot, the perfect hostess, if
she did say so herself.
Just then, the chime of the front doorbell sounded.
Actually, it was the quiet repeater chime in the hallway just
outside her bedroom. She hurried to the front door, paused
to gently shake out her hair and straighten any errant strands,
smiled, and opened the door. Waiting was a slightly older
redhead in a summer dress of frilly silk in a gray and lavender
leaf pattern. "Megan, welcome!" Kim gushed as she embraced
her guest and they exchanged a smiling kiss.
This, the first member of The Phantom's dissertation committee
to arrive (not counting Kim Pappas), was Dr. Megan Whelan,
tenured professor of English Literature. The
fifty-something beauty's green eyes sparkled as she gazed at her
hostess and good friend.
Kim, in turn, was drinking in Megan's body from the toes of her
open sandals (with four-inch heels), to her white nylon-clad,
freckled legs, to her very pretty dress, to her freckled
face, to her loose, shoulder-length, ginger hair. "You
look stunning," Kim gushed.
"As do you," Megan responded.
"Hold the door!" a voice called from the front walk, and Kim and
Megan turned to watch Dr. Ellen Chen approach. A professor
of Linguistics, the forty-something beauty was wearing a
knee-length, body-hugging, spaghetti-strap dress of silver silk
embroidered with silver-gray and dusky-rose flowers.
Ellen's grandparents on both sides of the family had emigrated
from China, and her long, black hair and smiling face bespoke
her heritage. "I'm not the last, am I?" she inquired.
"Only the second," Kim chuckled. The committee members had
all agreed on a specific arrival time, to expedite the final,
"special" party preparations. Kim glanced behind Ellen and
her smile broadened. "And here's everyone." The two
remaining committee members were strolling up the walk.
First came Dr. Bibi Knudsen. The blond, blue-eyed,
forty-something archeologist and native of Sweden had recently
been promoted to full professor. Her hair was cropped
short in a boyish pixie and her blue eyes sparkled as she
smiled. She was wearing a tangerine coat, which she began
to remove. Underneath was a strapless cocktail dress of
the same hue.
Next came Dr. Cynthia Webbel. The shortest of the group,
the brunette was removing a tan coat, revealing a sleeveless
little-black-dress. Its plunging, V-shaped neckline
accentuated her ample bosom. Cynthia was a tenured
professor of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence Studies in the
Computer Science Department. University regulations
require at least one member of all graduate committees to be
from outside the candidate's field of study, from outside their
department and college, if possible. Technically, Bibi
already satisfied that requirement, so Cynthia's presence was
icing on the proverbial cake. Her hair was cut short, like
Bibi's, but slightly longer.
After a round of hugs and kisses, Kim led her fellow academics
towards the master bedroom. "My little helper is busy in
the kitchen," she said in a quiet voice as they crossed the
living room, "so let's keep the noise down." They reached
the bedroom and Kim held the door so they could enter.
"You all parked on the street, right?" Kim inquired as she
closed the door. "The driveway is clear?"
The others nodded in the affirmative.
"You-know-who will be able to pull into the garage," Bibi
"Excellent," Kim said, then gestured towards her neatly made
bed. On it were two cardboard boxes and a new deck of
The committee watched as their chairwoman picked up the deck,
broke the plastic seal, opened the box, and pulled out the
cards. She peeled off the cover card and the two jokers,
placed them face-up on the bed, then began shuffling the
deck. "Everyone agreed to this," Kim purred, looking from
face to face as the cards rippled between her fingers.
"So say we all," Ellen purred, and the others laughed (a little
Kim shuffled the deck one last time, then fanned the
cards. "No cheating," she purred and presented the deck to
the others. One by one they each selected a single card
and held it against their breasts. Kim returned the deck
to the box, dropped it on the bed, then smiled.
"Ready. And. Now!"
Megan, Ellen, Bibi, and Cynthia held their cards against their
foreheads, face out, as in the game of Indian Poker. The
|Dr. Megan Whelan
|Oh, the Humanities!
noticed the others were smiling at her. That is, all
the others were smiling at her. Her own smile
faded and she heaved an appropriately melancholy sigh.
"Oh, maaan." She dropped her hand and gazed at her
card. "The three of hearts," she muttered. "It
Kim smiled at Ellen. "As high card, you're in charge."
Ellen nodded, her smile still focused on Cynthia.
"Minions, grab her!" she ordered.
Cynthia heaved another sigh. "You don't have
to—Mrrrpfh!" Bibi had grabbed her and was holding her arms
behind her back with her left arm. Her right hand was
clamped over Cynthia's mouth.
"Hold her steady," Megan said as she reached around Cynthia's
body and groped for the fastenings of her dress. "This is
pretty," she remarked, pausing to finger the fabric of Cynthia's
dress and brushing her fingers against the captive's left boob
in the process. "I'd hate to rip it."
"That would be a tragedy," Ellen agreed.
Cynthia's wide, brown eyes darted from face to face.
"Mrrf." Bibi's hand tightened until her cheeks bulged.
"I'm glad it's Cynthia," Megan said. "She's little and
easy to control."
Cynthia glared at the smiling redhead, making her
displeasure quite clear. "Nrrrf!"
"Perhaps we should gag her first," Bibi suggested.
"No, first we strip her," Ellen decreed. "Then we
Ellen had succeeded in finding the clasp and zipper. Ziiiiip.
The dress opened and slithered to the floor. Cynthia
wasn't wearing a bra. Her remaining clothes were
pantyhose, a pair of skimpy, thong-style panties, and open-toed
heels, all in black. She squirmed a little as Megan pulled
down her pantyhose and panties. The smiling redhead also
removed Cynthia's white-gold necklace with diamond pendant and
matching drop earrings.
"Such a pretty all-over tan," Ellen sighed.
Megan nodded in agreement. "Yes, no tan-lines." She
removed Cynthia's shoes, then pulled the hose and panties the
rest of the way off her feet. "I was afraid of this," she
sighed as she held up the panties, what there was of them.
They were mostly elastic lace ribbon. The triangular,
semi-transparent front panel was miniscule.
"It's a start," Bibi chuckled, and nodded at Megan.
Cynthia watched as Megan carefully folded the panties into a
compact wad, then held them before Bibi's hand. The
blond's hand came free— "No—Mrrf!" —Megan crammed
the silky glob into her mouth, and Bibi's hand clamped down
hard, once again. "Mrrpfh."
Ellen frowned, her eyes locked with the naked captive.
"Not nearly enough." Her smile returned. "I know
what to do." The others watched as she reached under her
dress and pulled down her own panties, placed her left hand on
Kim's shoulder to steady herself, and stepped out of the silky,
whisper-thin, rose-pink garment. Like Cynthia's panties,
they were a thong, more or less (mostly less). She handed
them to Megan, and the smiling redhead folded them into a wad,
Cynthia complained— "Mrrf!" —but couldn't prevent Ellen's
panties from joining her own. "Nrrrf!"
"Still not adequate," Megan said, then smiled at the
others. "Don't you think?" They nodded, and Megan
sat on the bed. "Hold on," she chuckled. "I'm
"I'm not," Bibi said. "Here, take her."
"Most kind," Megan sighed as stood and traded places with the
Cynthia made a half-hearted effort to impede the process—
"Mrrpfh!" —but soon it was Megan's left arm
pinning her elbows together behind her back and Megan's
right hand clamped over her silk-stuffed mouth.
Bibi reached under her dress and removed her panties. They
were a third thong, and like her dress, were tangerine in color.
Megan watched, they all watched, as Bibi crumpled her panties
into yet another wad. "Is this 'Citrus Day' in Sweden?"
Megan asked, "part of a week long 'Salute to Fruit' festival,
"No, I simply think I look good in this color," Bibi answered in
her lilting, barely noticeable accent.
"You look good in any color," Kim said.
"How kind," Bibi beamed. Then, coordinating with Megan,
she stuffed her panties into Cynthia's mouth. This
required a little tamping and pushing, but the task was soon
accomplished and Megan's hand was back in place.
"Still not really adequate," Ellen decided, "but any more and
she'll look like a little chipmunk with her cheek pouches full
Cynthia stared daggers at Ellen and forced an angry growl past
the three thongs and Megan's freckled hand. "Mrrrf!"
Kim stepped forward with a strip of the same experimental "wound
dressing" she'd used to tape-gag Clem the night before.
"Allow me," she said, Megan removed her hand, and Kim peeled off
the paper backing and pressed the panel over Cynthia's closed
Cynthia could have made an effort to expel the stuffing
more-or-less filling her mouth as the panel approached her face,
but instead she held her head steady as it was pressed
home. If she was unfortunate enough to be the one chosen
at random to attend the party as a helpless captive, she might
as well have an attractive gag. She did glare at
Kim as she continued smoothing the tape. It was expected.
Kim reached into the open box on the bed, produced a roll of the
same almost-clear tape, pulled free a long strip— Riiiiip.
—and ripped it from the roll. Snick. "Just
to be sure," she purred, and used the strip to take a tight turn
around Cynthia's lower face, stretching the tape as she applied
it to the prisoner's skin. Bibi held Cynthia's hair out of
the way as best she could.
"Only one turn?" Ellen asked.
"This stuff is super strong," Kim explained, "and it's
really a turn-and-a-half, with the overlap in the back."
"Amazing," Bibi said. "It really is nearly
"I think it's the reflective index," Kim responded, "and the
texture. I suppose there's a detailed technical
explanation for how it mimics human skin; but unfortunately, the
only science nerd in the room has her mouth stuffed with dirty
panties." The others laughed, except for the science nerd
in question, who glared at Kim above her sealed mouth
and slightly bulging cheeks. "Okay," Kim chuckled, "turn
Acting together, Megan and Bibi spun Cynthia 180°.
Then, standing to either side, they held her arms behind her
"Palms together with fingers interlaced," Kim ordered.
Cynthia sighed the obligatory gagged sigh, then complied.
Kim took three tight turns around her wrists, then five turns
just below her elbows, pressing them together. Next, she
mummified her fingers and hands, then took additional turns
until Cynthia's hands, wrists, and forearms were completely
Meanwhile, Ellen had reached into the open box and pulled out a
single-sleeve, a one-piece armbinder some call a
monoglove. Most of the sleeve was made from soft, slightly
textured, black leather, like a fine pair of gloves; but there
were also thick, substantial straps with shining steel buckles
stitched and riveted in place. It closed with a
zipper. Ellen slid the binder up Cynthia's arms, snugged
it up to her armpits, and zipped it closed. She
then flipped a pair of long, thin straps attached to the top
over Cynthia's shoulders. Megan and Bibi crossed the
straps, forming an "X" between Cynthia's sternum and throat,
then passed them back to the rear, under her armpits.
Ellen threaded the straps through a pair of buckles, pulled them
as tight as they would go, secured the buckles, and slid the
ends of the straps through retaining loops. Finally, wide,
cuff-like straps were buckled around Cynthia's wrists and
Cynthia's colleagues/captors all took a step back and watched
her turn in a slow pirouette, twisting her shoulders and
demonstrating her complete helplessness. Cynthia's nude,
tan, healthy, petite body was breathtaking. Her full
breasts, flat tummy, narrow waist, and strong legs could only be
"Tiny-hot," Bibi suggested.
Once again, Ellen spoke for the group. "So say we all."
Cynthia glared at her captors, but could do nothing to
hide the blush darkening her already slightly flushed
cheeks. It was a compliment, and she was among
friends—gloating, smug, evil friends.
Kim reached into the box and produced a swatch of silver-gray
silk. She handed it to Megan and she held it open between
her freckled hands. It was a harem-girl's veil, designed
to cover and reveal. Megan draped it over
Cynthia's face, across the bridge of her nose, and secured the
veil's clasp behind her head. It covered Cynthia's nose
and mouth but did little to hide her features. It was,
however, up to the task of fully disguising her already
"nearly-invisible" tape-gag. "Hmm..." Kim stared at
Cynthia's lips, still somewhat visible through the tape and
veil. She turned and hurried to the bathroom—and returned
quickly with a container of lip gloss. "Lift the veil and
hold her head," she muttered. Bibi did so and, frowning
with concentration, Kim applied a careful coat of deep-red gloss
to Cynthia's bow lips—over the tape, of course. It might
not be the perfect shade for Cynthia, but it certainly made her
lips more prominent. "Blow on that," Kim said to Megan,
then returned to the bed.
"My pleasure," Megan purred, leaned into Cynthia's glowering
face, pursed her smiling lips, and blew on the little captive's
tape-gagged mouth. She did this several times, with
Cynthia continuing to stare daggers, then took a step back.
Kim had returned with a black leather collar. It was a
high-end product, similar in style to the armbinder. She
buckled it around Cynthia's throat, gently turned the collar
until the buckle was in the back and a steel ring in the front,
then clicked the clip of a leash of light steel chain through
the ring. The leash dangled between Cynthia's breasts and
down her tummy, pubic thatch, and thighs. Its black
leather wrist-loop bounced against her knees. "Doesn't she
look precious?" Kim beamed.
Bibi agreed, but Ellen shook her head. "Hmm... not
quite." She went to the box, rummaged inside, and returned
with—a pair of nipple clamps! To be precise, they were
spring-loaded, self-tightening clover clamps, joined by a light
Cynthia's eyes popped wide and she took a step back, until
stopped by the grinning professors Knudsen and Whelan.
"Oh, the heart breaks," Ellen chuckled as she strolled towards
"As if she wouldn't put them on any of us," Kim
Ellen teased Cynthia's nipples until they grew erect—it didn't
take much teasing—then carefully applied the clamps, first
squeezing the right nipple— "Mrrf!" —and then the
"Drama queen," Ellen accused, smiling at Cynthia's angry,
gagged, and veiled face.
Kim smiled and turned to the bed. "I've got an
idea!" She returned with Cynthia's earrings and
necklace. Cynthia had pierced ears and the earrings were
the kind with small hooks. Kim leaned close and slipped
the hooks through the attachment rings of the nipple-clamp
chain. The pendants now dangled from the ends of the
"Very pretty," Ellen purred, and the others agreed.
"I'm not finished," Kim chuckled. Squinting with
concentration, she closed the clasp of the necklace chain
through the attachment point of the necklace pendant. The
fine chain now formed a figure-eight centered on the
pendant. Kim clipped one loop through the right earring
hook and the other loop through the hook on the left.
Cynthia was now wearing nipple-clamps with dangling diamond
pendants, a steel chain draped from clamp to clamp, and a much
lighter doubled chain of white-gold with a central diamond
pendant. Lucky for Cynthia, the added weight wasn't very
much. The necklace chain and pendant drooped to just above
her navel, next was the vertical drop of the collar's leash
chain, and then came the nipple-clamps' connecting chain.
"Now that's pretty," Ellen sighed, then kissed Kim's
lips. "Are we ready?"
"Shoes?" Megan suggested.
Ellen gazed at Cynthia's feet. They all did.
"Hmm... The open-toed pumps she brought are very
nice... but our little Cynthia has such pretty feet." She
shook her head. "No shoes."
"Besides," Bibi added, "barefooted with the rest of us in heels,
she's even tinier."
The others chuckled and Cynthia glared in response—or
more correctly, she continued glaring.
"One last thing," Kim said as she returned to the bed.
Thus far the second box had remained unopened. Kim opened
it now, rummaged inside, and returned with an animal mask.
It was plush, made of brown, white, and black fake-fur, and this
particular mask took the form of a smiling mouse. It was
actually a half-mask, and would only cover the wearer's nose and
eyes. Most such things would be held on by an elastic cord
or a pair of ribbons, but this particular mask had a
half-inch-wide brown leather strap with a steel buckle.
Cynthia would have nothing to do with it. "Nrrrf!"
Megan held her shoulders and Bibi her head, but she continued to
Ellen knew what to do. A smile on her beautiful face, she
reached out, took hold of the chain linking the nipple clamps,
and gave it a firm tug.
"Mmmf!" Cynthia took the hint and froze in place.
"Good girl," Ellen purred as she fit the mask over Cynthia's
glaring eyes. Bibi threaded the strap through its buckle,
freed Cynthia's hair, pulled the strap tight, and secured the
Cynthia's colleagues fussed with her hair, especially her bangs,
making sure her russet locks draped over the top of the mask and
to either side of its cute little mouse ears. They also
straightened her veil.
Megan had strolled to the bed and was gazing into the second
box. Inside she found three more masks: a red vixen, a
Siamese cat, and a golden lioness. She smiled at
Kim. "You were ready for whoever won the lottery," she
noted, holding the masks for the others to see.
Kim smiled back. "Or lost the lottery, depending
on your point of view."
Megan gazed back into the box. "No cute little mouse tail?"
"I wish I'd thought of that," Kim chuckled, "but no." She
lifted the leather handle of Cynthia's leash and placed it in
Ellen's hand. "Don't lose her, okay?"
"I won't," Ellen purred, smiling at Cynthia.
"All right then," Kim continued. "The Phantom will be
arriving in about an hour. Let's all get something to eat
and drink, shall we?" Her smile focused on Cynthia.
"Well... not all."
Cynthia rolled her eyes. The others laughed and started
for the bedroom door. Cynthia's leash began to go taut,
the nipple-clamps, chains, and pendants swayed, and the captive
little mouse had no choice but to follow.
|Oh, the Humanities!