Bondage Studio, Part Three

by guardian46w, 2018-09-27 22:36:00

by John Quill Terryl aka J.Q.T.

Illustrations by Tarsis

Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 25 August 1986

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, F/f, cons, reluct, bdsm, toys, disp, video, X

XVII. A Drive In The Country

"This isn't the way to the leather factory."

"You finally noticed," said Von Dreck, turning down a narrow country road.

"Then where are we going? asked Robyn.

"To the farm."

"What farm?"

"Just a little farm. It belongs to a doctor and his wife. It's a place to relax on the weekends."

"This is the middle of the week."

"How lucky for us. We'll have the place all to ourselves."

"Okay, cut the crap. What's on your perverse little mind?"

"Reduced to its simplest terms, you are being abducted."

"I don't feel abducted."

"You will in a minute," said Von Dreck, pulling off to the side of the road. "Would you mind stepping out of the car?"

Exiting on the driver's side, Von Dreck half-circled the car, stopping enroute to remove a few leather items from the trunk. "You took those from the studio," said Robyn, now standing in ankle-high grass.

"A foolish impulse," said Von Dreck, "but if I plead guilty to kidnapping, they may drop the larceny charge."

"Can't we do this some other time? I'm not in the mood for bondage games."

"Neither am I. This is serious stuff."

"Then get on with it," Robyn sighed, turning her back to Von Dreck and offering her sleeve-covered arms.

"After you've had your fun, maybe we can get back to business."

"Take off that fancy shirt. I want you to get the true feel of this beautiful single glove."

Robyn took off her shirt and threw it in the back of the car.

"You're behaving very sensibly," said Von Dreck, lacing Robyn into the glove and securing the supporting straps, including the one that passed through its wearer's most intimate region. "I thought you might give me more trouble."

"Since the odds appear overwhelming that, in a few minutes from now, I will not be able to speak, this may be a good time to say that you are not nearly as sinister as you want other people to think."

"You were right about one thing," said Von Dreck, adjusting a leather device designed to deprive its wearer of vision as well as speech, "but if I were in your shoes, or should I say glove, I might be a little nervous. After all, it hardly seems fair that you should be running the studio. Then, of course, there are other possibilities. Maybe I'm jealous of your money or the spell you cast over Gaylord. So far as you know, I may even be a little crazy. Oh well, the truth always comes out. Let's get on with the abduction."

Back in the front seat again, Robyn pondered her situation. In the finest tradition of bound and blindfolded heroines, she honed her remaining senses for clues as to her destination. Unfortunately, there were no train whistles or sirens. The road surely was little traveled; otherwise she would not be sitting with her leather-covered face clearly visible to anyone in an approaching vehicle. About all she was able to determine was that the terrain was too hilly for other than marginal farming.

About five minutes later, Robyn felt the car slow to a stop. "It's time to get out," said Von Dreck, after coming around to open the door on the passenger side. "We are going for a little walk." At the rough urging of a hand on the back of her neck, Robyn squirmed out of the car and proceeded with short, cautious steps along the uneven surface.

"Faster," said Von Dreck. "I won't let the haughty heiress hurt herself on a rock."

After, as counted by Robyn, two hundred and forty-three steps, hands braking her forward progress indicated that the stroll was over. Then, if her ears could be trusted, Von Dreck went jogging off at about a forty-five degree angle from their former direction. Robyn's pulse quickened. Surely even Von Dreck would not leave her blind and arm-less out in the middle of nowhere.

XVII. Lying Down In Green Pastures

At the sound of the jogger's return, Robyn sighed through her leather mouthpiece. Then, to her further relief, first her gag, then her blindfold was removed. "Well, how do you like it?" asked Von Dreck.

"Like what?" asked a squinting Robyn. "This is just some untended old pasture."

"Look closer," said Von Dreck. "It's what's left of an old running track. It hasn't been used much lately, but the markers are still in place. I just finished a trial lap."

"It's adorable," said Robyn tersely, reasonably certain of the next item on Von Dreck's agenda.

"Aren't you going to try it out?"

"Maybe some other time."

"I think you should reconsider."

"And if I'd rather not?

Von Dreck thought for a moment before answering. "Oh, I'd probably replace your blindfold. Then, after I got back from lunch, I'd probably ask you again."

"Would you really leave me like that?"

"You've known me a while," said Von Dreck. "If I haven't done anything else, I think I've established my credibility."

"Aren't you going to unstrap my arms?"

"I'll allow for your arms," said Von Dreck, a pocket knife in her hand. "Make it in decent time, and I'll let you off with just one lap. But first let me fix your jeans You'll look better in cut-offs anyway."

After mourning the partial destruction of a pair of designer jeans, Robyn pushed off a wooden block that marked the beginning of the course. She took pride in her physical condition but, deprived of the use of her arms and hampered by the rough terrain, soon found breathing increasingly difficult. Cows apparently had access to the pasture, and their efforts to enrich the soil had created additional obstacles. Each stride further settled the strap connected to the ring on the glove, and she particularly regretted that she had selected her shoes more for style than for running through pastures. Somehow, she completed her lap without breaking out of a run.

"Not very good," said Von Dreck, still looking down at her watch. "However, I have to admit that you gave it the old college try. Do as well on your second run and maybe we'll call it a day"

The first run was a pleasant jog compared to the second time around. Lungs straining and weary thighs aching, Robyn gasped with each painful stride. The last fifty yards were excruciating. Finally completing the circuit, she fell heavily in the tall grass, where, except for her heaving breasts, she lay in a motionless heap.

"Not bad at all," said Von Dreck, unlacing the single glove but than using thin nylon cord to refasten Robyn's wrists, for some reason crossed in front. "Now for our main task of the day."

XIX. Keeping Robyn Posted

You've rested long enough," said Von Dreck. "We are going for another walk." Robyn struggled wearily to her feet and accompanied her abductor along the faint outline of a path. Von Dreck stopped to watch Robyn pant. "Even sweaty and all out of breath, you are still an attractive woman. I hope I can do you justice."

"Just what does that mean?" asked Robyn, her patience long since exhausted.

"It wouldn't be right to waste this idyllic setting. I'm going to take your picture. If you cooperate, I won't bother you anymore all day."

After passing through a wooded area, Robyn could see an old farmhouse. "It's not a mansion," said Von Dreck, "but it's kept in excellent repair. Go stand over there by the fence post."

"Where's the rest of the fence?"

"This is only a hobby farm. Stand with your back to the post, raise your hands up over your head, and drop them back over the post."

Robyn followed the first two instructions but, in an upright position, her bound hands were too high for the post. "Is this alright?" she asked, her breasts now more prominently displayed because of the position of her arms.

"It will be," said Von Dreck, "after you drop to your knees and cross your ankles behind the post." Kneeling allowed Robyn's hands to assume the requested position, and although, once her ankles were tied, escape from the post was impossible, her discomfort was soon increased by a cord from her crossed and tied wrists to her now slightly elevated ankles.

"Why have you tied me so mean?"

"Why does an aardvark eat ants?"

"I don't think I can stand this much longer."

"Then open your mouth so we can get on with the session."

"What kind of gag is that?"

"Just a plain, ordinary pear gag. If you recall your Dumas, it was favored by the Three Musketeers."

Two sturdy buckles soon assured that Von Dreck did all of the talking. "As you can see, the camera is already set up. I wouldn't want you to think that I'm one of those sleazy photographers who remember to set up their cameras only after they tie up their models."

Von Dreck stepped behind the camera, its tripod already adjusted so that, when she spread her feet, its viewer was at eye level. What she saw through the viewer displeased her. "Gaylord's only absolute rule is that bondage must be authentic. I'm trying to capture the look of someone who's been tied to a post for at least fifteen minutes. Since all I can do is wait, I think I'll go back in the house and make myself some lemonade."

When Von Dreck finally returned, she quickly clicked off a few shots, pausing only to move the camera, then casually slashed Robyn's restraints, except for the ones on her wrists. "You're a hell of a model," she said. "You even had me convinced that you were tired, uncomfortable, angry, and just a little bit scared. Here, let me help you with that gag."

"Aren't you going to untie my hands?"

"Since they are tied in front, you can work them loose by yourself. It will give you something to do. I have to get back to the studio, but I've made arrangements for your comfort."

"You've been doing that all day," said Robyn.

"You'll be staying inside," said Von Dreck. "You can't beat country air, but you've had enough for today."

"It looks like an interesting place. I've always loved an old house."

"Did I say you'd be staying in the house? I've fixed up a place in the barn."

The barn, Robyn soon discovered, stocked various bondage items. "Doctor Gordian and Ethyl," said Von Dreck, "have other hobbies besides farming. Would you mind stepping into that stall?"

Before Robyn could react, Von Dreck pushed her into the stall and down onto its hay-covered floor. Along one side of the stall was what, to Robyn's dismay, she recognized as wooden stocks and in which her ankles were soon locked.

"It's getting late," said Robyn. "We'll miss the movie club meeting."

"You'll miss the movie club meeting. I plan on getting back."

"Have a heart, Von Dreck. I owe it to Gaylord to be there."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, but, just to prove I'm no monster, you can try the trivia question. What leading lady was tied but not gagged in a movie with Robert Taylor and gagged but not tied in a movie with Gary Cooper?"

"Jean Arthur?"

"Not a bad guess," said Von Dreck.

"Paulette Goddard?"

"Way off the mark," said Von Dreck. "You also owe it to Gaylord to study up on your movies."

"Okay, Miss smart-ass, what is the answer to the question?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Von Dreck. "That's something I can't divulge until after the meeting has started."

XX. Maid in the Hay

Robyn's first priority was her wrists. The knot restricting their freedom was diabolically placed, and attempts to reach it with her teeth merely tightened the encircling cords. She partially solved the problem by raising her wrists toward her teeth, turning her thumbs down and in, and spreading and raising her elbows. Then, as she lay on her back groping for the knot with her teeth, she was startled by a welcome sight, a pair of bare female feet. "How long have you been watching?" she asked.

"Not long, ma'am," said the owner of the feet, a girl in faded jeans with freckles and long golden hair.

"Would you mind untying my hands?"

"If that's what you want, said the girl, kneeling down in the hay, guiding Robyn's hands with her own, and using her own straight, white teeth to loosen the offending knot.

"What a relief!" sighed Robyn, massaging her rope-scored wrists. "Now, if it's not asking too much, get me out of this damn contraption."

"I can't do that, ma'am," said the girl, gathering up the loose cord and hanging it neatly on a hook.

"Of course you can do it," said Robyn. The key's hanging up in a nail over by all those straps and chains."

"Doris said I could untie your hands. She didn't say anything about the stocks."

"Doris?"

"The lady who brought you here, ma'am."

"Oh, that Doris," said Robyn sarcastically. "Did she also happen to mention that even people locked in stocks have basic human needs?"

"No, Ma'am. That's something you don't have to tell to anyone who lives on a farm. As soon as I finish rubbing down Mrs. Gordian's horse, I'll get you cleaned up and bring you something to eat. Doris left you something to read."

"Do you have a name?"

"Most folks call me Billie."

"Listen Billie, and listen closely. There's a point at which bondage games end and breaking the law begins. If you want to stay out of jail, you had better unlock these stocks."

Billie thought the threat over only briefly. "See'n as how I didn't lock you in, I don't have to help you get out. The last time I did something like that, Mrs. Gordian made me stay off her land for almost a whole month."

"She had someone else in the stocks?"

"No ma'am. She was all trussed up in the hay and begged me to cut her loose. When I did, she got real mad and said never to do that again no matter how hard she begged."

"Who tied her up?"

"I think it was Dr. Gordian. Doris would have tied her much tighter."

"What kind of a man is this doctor?"

"He's a wonderful man, ma'am," said Billie. "If he hadn't bought part of our farm, we would have lost it all. And, if it wasn't for his help, my brother would have had to quit school, he's studying to be a vet."

"Do you play these games?"

"Sometimes my brother ties me up, but I'm always able to escape."

"You always have Von Dreck."

"I always have who, ma'am?"

"You always have Doris."

"She doesn't let me play bondage games."

"What do you call this?"

"Listen, Lady," Billie said sharply, "I'll clean you and feed you, and I'll even bring you some blankets, but I don't have to listen to more of your silly talk."

"What did she leave me to read, back issues of “Bondage Life”!"

"No ma'am. She left that dumb book about the lady whose boyfriend feeds her and bathes her and gags her."

"You mean “9½ Weeks”?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Why was it dumb"

"Well, for one thing, the first time he gags her, she complains that it holds down her tongue. You can't stop someone from spitting out a handkerchief with just another handkerchief."

"Maybe she didn't want to spit it out."

"What fun is a gag if you can spit it out? Besides, if she was having such good sex, why did she stop seeing him after the 9½ weeks?"

"As I recall, it was all part of growing up, and, while we're on the subject, don't you think it is about time that you let me out of these stocks?"

"I'm growing up pretty good, ma'am," said Billie, unbuttoning her cotton blouse and knotting the ends in a way that clearly supported her claim.

"A grown-up young lady like you needs pretty things to wear. If you unlock these stocks, I'll give you one hundred dollars."

"Two hundred dollars would buy a lot more pretty things."

"Okay, make it two hundred."

"Would you make it five hundred?"

"This is crazy," said Robyn, in rapidly mounting frustration. "You should be happy just to stay out of jail."

"Even if you made it five thousand, I'd never break my word to Doris."

"I admire your loyalty, but no one has to keep his word to the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Doris is my best friend. She drives me into the city. She takes me to plays and museums. Last time she bought me a new dress and took me to see a ballet. It was all about a doll that came to life."

"I give up," said Robyn. "Do you think your role model would mind if I walked around outside while you tended Mrs. Gordian's horse? I've been tied up most of the day. Then you can lock me up again."

"Alright," said Billie, much to Robyn's surprise. "Doris told me to treat you nice."

"What the hell are you doing now?"

"Just tying your hands, ma'am," said Billie. "Doris told me to treat you nice. She didn't tell me to trust you."

Part one of Robyn's play has succeeded. She was mobile, outside, and alone. Part two, if there was a part two, had to deal with a series of obstacles. Her wrists were tied tightly behind her, there wasn't a car in sight, and her prospects of reaching a phone were dampened by her failure to detect any wires running to the house. the front door of the house was locked, and it's hard to crawl in through a window with your hands tied behind your back. Maybe she could get some help at one of the neighboring farms. Then, as her panic diminished, a further thought crossed her mind. Did she really want to explain how she found herself in this predicament?

Her question was soon academic. She heard a faint whooshing sound, then, no more than an instant later, felt a course circle of rope constricting her arms and body. The damn little vixen had lassoed her.

"You didn't have to do that," said Robyn. "I wasn't going anywhere anywhere."

Billie viewed the situation in far simpler terms that Robyn. "You're just like Doctor Gordian's cow." After adjusting the lasso to tighten around Robyn's waist, she passed its remaining length underneath Robyn's body and made use of it's wearer's bound wrists to reverse the direction of the lead. No verbal instructions were necessary. As Billie returned to the barn, Robyn followed at a close enough distance to keep the pressure off her sensitive areas.

Robyn did not resist as Billie proceeded as if it were just another of her chores. "Back in the stocks," said Billie. Robyn laid back in the stall and positioned her ankles in the slots.

"This time on your knees," said Billie. the slots were at almost ground level, and assuming a kneeling position helped Robyn obey instructions. After padlocking Robyn in the stocks, Billie selected a strap from one of a large assortment and buckled it around Robyn's neck. Then she doubled up a long length of cord, stuffed the doubled up end underneath the loosely drawn strap, and threaded the co-equal leads through the doubled-up end.

Robyn watched with increasing apprehension as her improbable jailer cleared away most of the straw just in front of her prisoner's knees. Set in the ground was a block to which was attached a ring. After threading the leads through the ring, Billie forced Robyn's head down, both by pulling on the leads and sitting on Robyn's neck. Knotting the leads to a hook on the side of the stall locked Robyn's head in place and, in conjunction with the stocks, assured that she stayed fanny-up.

For the first time that day, Robyn was truly dispirited. "You didn't have to tie me so mean. Anyone would have tried to escape."

"That's not the reason, Ma'am."

"Then why did you do it?" asked Robyn.

On her way out of the barn, Billie paused and looked back at Robyn. "It's for saying bad things about Doris."