Jessica fills the final position with the other abductees along the hallway. Both wrists and ankles are already cuffed, roped to eyebolts in the floor just behind her, the ropes not taut, still having just the slightest of slack.
Emma was story against a tree for support, and I was obliged to carry her again, this time to her room, where I turned on the shower and listened to her little cries of pain as the circulation was slowly restored and normality returned. I passed Mary coming back up the stairs. This in turn was wheeled to the table so that Emma faced the centre, between Roger and Monica. I knew it was on the schedule — a big stretch for Monica with her old friend Warren and some new bloke whom he was bringing along. Latex on the skin is definitely a turn on. Something very nipple — a tray.
In this instance, with each tightening click of the ratchet — done ever so teasingly slowly by M and M Mary and Monica — Emma was compressed harder and tighter into a ball against the wood of the tray.
Monica's place: the rack
Then she bent down and spoke to Mary. Monica was holding court at the table, seated between the two men with Mary opposite. I did not at first see the relevance of this exercise until half an hour later, when, despite the tightness of her bonds Emma managed to squirm some more, possibly creating some lubrication against the restraining straps now sodden with sauce and ice cream. Not long after the application of the sauce somebody evidently decided Emma needed a change of scenery, and they carried her down to a point under a large gum tree near the pool.
Suffice to say no one at the table was amused. I guess it was at that point that something snapped in my mind as far as Monica was concerned.
Mary and Monica tried rocking their captive then tightened the ratchets still further while Emma moaned in misery and let further tears trickle down over the lemon. She had been lashed to the post with coils of sashcord about her waist and criss-crossing between her breasts and over her shoulders. Perhaps I had expected her to drive to somewhere like Surfers Paradise over an hour to the south, down the Pacific Highway.
She said something to Mary that I did not catch and Mary took the wooden object from me, and placed it on the deck. Emma wailed and cried, jerking and squirming, but all the while being restricted by the tethers to her nipples. Monica decided at one stage that Emma needed further adornment, just to keep her attention, and the bound girl was duly annointed firstly with ice cream from the back of her neck down the junction of her pinioned arms and ending at the top of her tautly folded buttocks. Then the tightening stopped and Monica straddled Emma, sitting down and grabbing the mane of black hair.
By the time I returned to the verandah the punishment session was already underway.
I had a feeling Emma was getting deeper into trouble by the minute. These straps were the kind you can pick up at Supercheap Auto for a few bucks and they came complete with hold-down ratchets. Emma scurried outside, her white heels click-clicking on the ceramic tiles and then on the timber decking.
She was clearly distressed, moaning and chewing into the lemon which was now somewhat the worse for wear. But of course there are some good points.
I was astonished, for I had never seen this side of Monica. There were large areas of parking spaces covered by overhead shade structures, but clearly Mr Bennelli would like to enjoy the sun, as it would at least make the ice melt quicker. Got that? Instead, after travelling along Coronation Drive and the Riverside Expressway she crossed the Brisbane River and headed east, and some fifteen minutes later I followed her into a suburban car park at Cannon Hill.
Poor Emma was now naked, her wrists bound palm to palm behind her and her elbows also lashed together so that they touched.
Emma straightened up with obvious relief. Jill was very quiet on the way home, but seemed to be cheering up. Perhaps she was grateful for this, but thinking such positive thoughts is surely difficult in the face of such adversity, and Emma was clearly not following that path.
Monica paused for breath and looked at what I had presented her with.
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Leila and Emma, I guess as the juniors, were in the kitchen preparing the food and waiting on the table respectively. I also remembered the aftermath, aspects of which were decidedly satisfying. I went downstairs later that afternoon and talked with Trish, who was on duty in the Observation Room. It was then threaded backwards through the eyebolt at the rear centre of the tray. Leila meanwhile had gone to the scene with a wet cloth and order was gradually restored.
In this instance you can be the dessert course — the showpiece of the menu. Look what happened to you and Christina when you fed her breakfast!
I guessed Mary was there as a senior representative of the establishment and I wondered where Trish was. Emma returned and both girls took two plates to the table. Monica stalked into the kitchen, her face tense with anger. My good friend Christina, Slave to Warren and devoted bondagee, had been returned to the Bilboes fold and was now suffering in silence in under the professional supervision of Trish.
Here I hosed her down as best I could, getting rid of most of the ants, but the toffee sauce was a different matter.
You ought to try it some time. That would encourage our man to wait for darkness, I thought, and he could spend the rest of the day undoing about a kilometre of sticky bandage — all of which would be very painful. It took me only a quarter of an hour to knock up this basic tray that Monica wanted. Then, as Monica renewed her attack on Emma, Mary disappeared into the kitchen to reappear with a large plastic bin liner which she placed over the top of the tray.
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I subsequently found out she was attending to my friend Christina who at that moment was undergoing some sort of workout in the gym. I want you to make something for me, and I want it yesterday! The front of his white shirt was sprayed with the red wine sauce into which Emma had evidently dropped both of her spoons and the aforementioned potato — from a reasonable height, I concluded, looking at the spray pattern.
Leila completed the serving of it with predictable trepidation, lest she end up also as a bound and gagged centrepiece. Monica ducked into the kitchen and returned with something yellow in her hand. I moved closer and to my horror saw ants swarming all over her body.
We arrived back at Bilboes at around 1 p. She was moaning and pleading — for all the good it did her. He was on his feet, and I saw a boiled potato roll off his lap on to the floor. Emma, on the other hand, was mortified and stood rooted to the spot until slapped on the cheek by Monica.
Both wore high heels and short sleeveless latex dresses. A rope was knotted around her waist and the tails pulled down between her legs and up at the back to be married to the waist loop at that point. You only think of yourself. Emma was still standing there, one hand to her cheek where Monica had hit her.
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And remember what happened to Monica afterwards. I undid the terrible stories and the nipple clamps that still remained in place, and carried her over to the garden hose used to fill the pool. She grinned malevolently at me and waved a nipple of ropes and straps. Thick ply, two stretch sides, the whole thing about this by this," she said, stretching her arms to something like half a metre wide by a metre long. Emma tried to ignore it and concentrate on what Monica was saying, then straightened up and prised herself free of the groper, before returning to the kitchen to take another bottle of champagne from the fridge.
I still had to face Monica, but that would be another battle, and I did not intend to even start the opening salvoes until she had calmed down from her no doubt current state of annoyance and desire to have my guts for garters. The car park was full of shoppers and Jill manoeuvred her way to a car park near the perimeter. I mean, they look stunning and all that, but you can lose your fluids in a workout. There was a clatter of cutlery and some exclamations.
Monica's place: the rack
Emma could not stand, for the circulation in her legs had been severely restricted. We tried to tell Monica, but she still made us wear them. Her head was jerked back, causing Emma to cry out with pain. She was then made to kneel, and I knew the leg ropes would be tightening terribly under those strained conditions. The pickup was screened to a large extent by our vehicle, and there was no difficulty in letting down the right front tyre. Emma still wore the nipple clamps, but her breasts were now crushed hard against her thighs and any access to her nipples by others was out of the question.
They were identical save for colour — Emma wore white, contrasting with her jet black hair, while Leila wore black, and together they made quite a stunning combination.
I parked beside her and climbed out to look around. I looked out to see Emma standing, hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror. The guys and girls we get here are usually pretty genuine in their needs and personalities. Something was clearly wrong. Monica was delighted.
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Her eyes were screwed up and she mewed plaintively and desperately for help. In short, with a few flicks of the ratchet they would make sure the luggage on your trailer did not fall off during your trip under anything less than a major accident. In the meantime she was on the receiving end of a flogger being wielded with determination by Monica, to the satisfied smirks from the two men.