by John Quill Terryl aka J.Q.T.

Illustrations by Tarsis

Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 26 November 1986

transcribed by guardian46w

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

In the ultimate (?) episode of this witty bondage narrative, Robyn runs a race, takes a bath, and learns that
Von Dreck's Gordian knots are more to her liking than she'd ever been willing to admit.

XXI.  The Story of E

So much for bondage.”  Thought Robyn.  No one could say she had given it less than her all.  Her present predicament proved that.  But she hadn’t seen Gaylord in months.  Von Dreck had flown her true colors, and, to her most recent acquaintance, her status was somewhere below that of Mrs. Gordian’s horse.

Disillusionment with the noble experiment did not change one irksome fact, Robyn still was a damsel in distress.  Her wrists were still stubbornly tied.  The stocks gripping her ankles restricted what her yachting friends might have called ‘roll’.  The cord through the ring in the floor even more strictly limited ‘pitch’.  She could not sit back on her haunches, and she could not lunge far enough forward to lower her uplifted buns.  About all she could move were her breasts, which hung down like fruit on a tree ad swayed with each test of her bonds.

The creak of an old barn door interrupted Robyn’s meditations.  This time Billie was not alone.  Her companion either was bound both at her wrists and elbows or was holding her out-of-view arms in a strangely unnatural position.  “It’s good seeing you again,” said the woman, as if greeting a friend on the street.

“When was the first time?” asked Robyn.

“I’m Ethyl Gordian, but you know me as Mrs. Smith.  I never visited the studio without something over my face.”

“It isn’t that bad,” quipped Robyn.

“Do you want me to gag her?” asked Billie.

Robyn was quick not to waste what might be her last chance to talk.  “Mrs. Gordian, or whatever your name is, if you really are the lady of the manor, tell little Miss Crotchcord to untie me.”

“I was hoping you’d call me Ethyl.”

“Please, Ethyl!” Robyn pleaded, “I’m begging on bended knees.  Get me out of this bondage.”

“Doris was right.  You do have a good sense of humor.”

“Not anymore,” said Robyn.  “I’m sick of being tied up.  It’s ridiculous, and, after the first few minutes, just a little uncomfortable.”

“I know,” said Ethyl.  “That’s what makes bondage so great.”

Robyn tried one more time, “Whatever you may have been told I didn’t ask Billie to tie me up.”

“Is she telling the truth?” asked Ethyl, staring sternly at Billie.

“Yes ma’am, but she... ”

“I don’t want to hear any ‘buts.’ Untie her this instant.”  Billie freed Robyn’s hands, then watched Robyn try to free her neck from the cord running through the small ring cemented into the ground.  “Her neck too,” Ethyl further admonished.

“What a relief,” sighed Robyn, finally free of the collar.

“Was it really that bad?” asked Ethyl.

“Try it some time,” said Robyn.

“What makes you think I haven’t?  Besides, you seemed happy enough.  I was watching you for almost five minutes.”

“There’s a video camera in here?”

“Of course not,” said Ethyl.  “Just a few holes in the wall.”

“I’ve met my share of creeps, but you are the creepiest yet.”

“I know how you feel,” said Ethyl, “but don’t take it out on me.  I’m usually the one being watched.  Of course, I can’t compare to you.  In that particular position, you really are quite spectacular.”

Robyn returned to diplomacy.  “I take it back about you being a creep.  Let me untie your arms, and then you can unlock my ankles.”

“Believe me, I’d like to,” said Ethyl, “but Doris left explicit instructions.”

“Surely you can’t expect me to lie here like this all night.”

“It beats the other alternative.”

“What other alternative?”

“An agile young woman like you could squirm back upon her knees.”

Only her sense of the ridiculous saved Robyn from total despair.  “When is feeding time at this zoo?”

“Whenever Billie makes dinner.”  Without further prompting, Billie headed out of the stall.  “A marvelous girl,” added Ethyl.  “I only wish my stepdaughter was more like her.”

“Your husband was married before?”

“WE both were.  Maybe that’s why it worked out so well.”

“Did your first husband tie you up?”

“Not until after we were married.”

“Did it make him a better lover?”

“He was a good enough lover.  That’s why I married him in the first place.  Bondage was all new to me, but I wanted to be a good wife.”

“Did he abuse you?”

“Not in the way you mean, but something important was missing.  Most of the time, I might just as well have been some woman that he had picked up in a bar.  To this day, I can’t understand why he didn’t want the divorce.”

“What happened after that?”

“Something I still can’t explain.  I didn’t miss Roger, but I missed the silly-assed bondage.  I thought about it a lot.  After a while, I even started seeing therapists.”

“Excuse me for smiling,” said Robyn, one cheek resting on her forearms.  “I was thinking about the woman in the ‘9 ½ Weeks’.  After her fling with bondage, she never could figure out what to do with her hands.”

“That’s only a book,” said Ethyl.  “As someone once said, I think about riding a bicycle, there are some things you never forget.”

“Did therapy help?”

“No, but one therapist did.  She said bondage was out of her line, but she gave me some numbers to call.  That was about ten years ago, but it wasn’t until I met Doris that things started falling into place.  She even introduced me to my husband.”

“Who introduced you to Doris?”

“I met her at a party.  She was working as a bound girl.”

“As a what?”

“You know, a bound girl.”

“No, I don’t know.  What in the hell is a bound girl?”

“For someone who runs a bondage studio, you still have a lot to learn.

“I don’t run the studio.  I’m just minding the store for Gaylord.”

“That’s not what Doris says.  She says that if it wasn’t for you there would be no more bondage studio.”

“Your friend Doris exaggerates, but I saved it a fortune in modeling fees.”

“She’s your friend too, maybe the best one you have.”

“Friends don’t tie you cruelly to a post and run off to sip lemonade.  My knees and shoulders still ache.”

“She had her reasons.”

“And, so did the Spanish Inquisition.  Now what exactly is a bound girl?”

“A bound girl is, well, she’s a bound girl.  She usually works at parties.  If you untie her legs, she’s expected to mingle with the guests.”

“Is that all?”

“If she’s respectable, yes.”

“Was Doris respectable?”

“Very,” said Ethyl, grinning broadly, “but she believed in earning her fees.”

Robyn picked up a handful of hay and threw it angrily at Ethyl.  “I’m sick of talking about Doris.  What possible reason could she have for pure, unadulterated cruelty?”

“Oh, shit!” said Ethyl, coming as close to a shrug as her tightly bound arms would permit.  “I know you’re still interested in bondage or you wouldn’t be asking these questions.  If I tell you one of her reasons, will you stick it out through tomorrow?”

“I don’t seem to have a choice.”

Ethyl stepped out of the stall and, with the tip of her nose, slid a key off the end of a nail driven through an old rotting board.  After kneeling on the earthen floor to retrieve the key with her mouth, she returned to her prisoner’s stall and dropped her small metal cargo almost into Robyn’s right hand.  “You have a choice now,” she announced.

Pushing down with her arms to help raise herself up on her knees and then twisting her body at the waist, Robyn managed to reach the lock.  “Thanks,” she said gratefully, finally free of the stocks but too weary to roll off her back.  “Now tell me about her reasons.”

“I can tell you about only one.”

“Then it better be good,” said Robyn.

“It’s for practicing dangerous bondage.  My husband was at the chateau, so I know she was telling the truth.  Anyone else except Ingrid and there’s not telling what might have happened.”

“Who made Doris the judge and jury?”

“She wasn’t punishing you, dear.  She was trying to teach you about bondage.”

“Why didn’t she speak up then?”

“Some things can’t be taught with words.  You never know how much is enough until you’ve had more than enough.”

“Did Doris say that?”

“No, I think it was Oscar Wilde.”

“If I give it another day, will you answer another question?”

“I understand,” said Ethyl.  “You want to know if a girl with a bushel of bucks, not to mention a fortune in securities, can find happiness with a strange man who, well, you can fill in the rest.”

“That about sums it up,” said Robyn.  “Is there life after bondage?”

“There was for me, but Doris gets most of the credit.”

“What miracle did she perform this time?”

“No miracle.  Bondage is like anything else.  You have to keep working at it all the time, John had his pick of younger and prettier women.  She taught me how to keep him interested.”

“What did she tell you to do, say ‘I’m yours’ and hand him some rope.”

“There’s no romance in that.  When I want him to tie me up, I drop a little hint, like hiding his favorite slippers or starting a silly argument.  When there isn’t a lot of time, I just dress like an Irving Klaw mode.”

“Does that always work?” asked Robyn, recalling her brief apprenticeship as Gaylord’s personal slave.

“It always has so far,” said Ethyl.  “I may not be a Shirly Maitland, or even a Shirley Levitt, but, then, neither were most of Klaw’s models.

“What else did Doris teach you?”

“She taught me not to let John take bondage too much for granted.  Once a week is enough, except on special occasions.  When I need more bondage that that, I can always stop off at the studio.”

“Once a week doesn’t sound too bad.  Does everything you try always work?”

“Sometimes it works too well.  Only a few weeks ago, I thought that he might enjoy an evening with a liberated lady.  My demands were late Gloria Steinem, and my outfit was early Rosalind Russell.  I really was quite obnoxious.  John took it all in stride.  He cooked dinner, set the table, and even washed the dishes.  Then, all at once, he swooped.  No kisses, no little caresses.  I spent the whole night in a closet.”

XXII.  Derby Day

Robyn awoke none the worse from a restful night in the barn.  The shower apparatus was primitive, and the water was mercilessly cold, but it felt good to be clean again.  “Any chance of getting some breakfast?”

“Billie’s making it now,” said Ethyl.  “I never quite learning how to cook on one of those wood burning stoves.”

“Is this towel all I get to wear?”

“Follow me, dear,” said Ethyl.  “I’ve laid out everything we will need.”  The items to which she referred were the usual undergarments, athletic shorts and socks, the shortest of short white shorts, and tight-fitting basketball jerseys.  Robyn’s colors were red and white, except for a black number ‘7’ on the back of her jersey.  Ethyl’s colors were green and white, except for an orange number ‘2’.

“I feel silly in this jersey,” said Robyn.

“If I had what you have,” said Ethyl, “one thing I’d never feel is silly.”

The aroma of frying bacon made it easy to find the kitchen.  “I wouldn’t count calories,” said Ethyl.  “This may be a strenuous day.”  Robyn surmised as much from the nature of her attire but needed no special incentive for following Ethyl’s advice.

Billie finished cleaning the stove before Robyn finished eating her eggs.  “That’s enough coffee,” said Ethyl.  “We don’t want to keep Doris waiting.”

Already committed to partake in whatever was planned for the day, Robyn watched Billie tie Ethyl’s wrists, then let Billie tie hers the same way.

“She does good work,” said Ethyl.

“She had a good teacher,” said Robyn.

Next came stiff leather collars.  They were higher in front than in back and, except for the requisite buckles, had no adornments other than two metal rings, one underneath the chin and one at the nape of the neck.  “Plain, but practical,” said Ethyl.  “They make us hold up our heads without lots of fancy straps.”

There wasn’t much more to the bondage.  Cords from the rear-collar rings raised and further restricted hands.  Leashes snapped on the front collar-rings helped Billie lead her charges out of the ancient farmhouse, past the ramshackle barn, and, as Robyn already suspected, toward the old running track.  Robyn felt strangely at ease, until she caught sight of Van Dreck.  Then, as if at the push of a button, she felt the old anger return.  It was too late to change her mind now.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” said Von Dreck.  “I knew Billie wouldn’t let me down, but I wasn’t so sure about Ethyl.”

“Neither was I,” confessed Ethyl.

Von Dreck glanced at her watch.  “It isn’t quite post time yet.  Robyn can wait in the paddock while Billie and I check the track.”

Someone else was waiting in the pasture pretentiously called a paddock.  To Robyn’s amazement, it was Herbert, dressed and bound more or less like herself and attached by the cord from his collar to a branch of a sturdy tree.  A short skirt substituted for shorts, and white stocking up over his calves suggested a schoolgirl’s attire.  His colors were blue and white, and, because of the breadth of his shoulders, the red number ‘4’ on his back seem smaller than Robyn’s number ‘7’.

Soon attached to the same tree as Herbert, Robyn could not suppress a grin.  “Well, little girl,” she taunted, “how are you going to explain this one?  Is she holding your grandmother hostage?”

“A deal is a deal,” said Herbert.

“Some deal,” Robyn ridiculed.  “She lets you wear those clothes, and you let her tie up.”

“There’s a little more to it than that.”

“For you or for her?”

“For both of us.”

“Would you care to tell me about it?”

“I suppose you’re entitled to know.”

“Because I’m your employer?”

“No, because if it wasn’t for you it might never have happened in the first place.”

“You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

“It goes back to that morning when we tied Doris on the typewriter table.  The very next day, she asked me to stop by her apartment.  I couldn’t believe how she looked.  She dresses so drab at the studio.”

Robyn smiled knowingly.  “I think I can guess the rest.  First, she gave you something to wear; then she went to work with her ropes.”

“That’s what I was expecting, too.  Instead, she handed me the rope and asked me to tie her up.  She said I was the only one around who knew how to tie her up right.”

“That’s all that she asked you to do?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘all’,” said Herbert.

“Well, don’t leave me hanging.”

Herbert’s face reddened perceptibly.  “She said that she knew how I felt and that she wasn’t a tease.  After that, nature took its course.”

“Good for you,” blurted Robyn.

“Then she asked me to do one more thing.”

“I can imagine,” said Robyn.

“The first time wasn’t so bad.  I just had to be her maid.”

“How many times were there?”

“I haven’t kept count, but the second time was the worst.  After getting me dressed and tied, she said it was her pinochle night.  Her girlfriends arrived on time, but they didn’t play many hands.”

“They’re coming for us now,” said Robyn.  “You were at the movie club meeting.  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?”

“Deborah Kerr,” replied Herbert.  “According to Fred, it was Gary Cooper’s last movie.”  Von Dreck arrived before Herbert could provide more details.  “You come with me,” she said brusquely.  “Billie will look after Herbert.”

“How do you do it?” asked Robyn.

“You mean live on my meager salary?”

“You know what I mean.  Herbert, Ethyl, Billie, to listen to them, one would think you were Mother Theresa.”

“Yes, they are rather simple souls.  It takes a woman like you to see me for what I am.”

“What are you, Doris?”

“Today, just a dedicated steward.  I’d rather be one of the competitors, but someone has to run the games.”

“The games?”

“Didn’t Ethyl tell you?  The big race is coming up, and, just to make it more exciting, I’ve added a few incentives.  If you beat Ethyl, you can tie up anyone you wish.”

“Even you?”

“Of course.  And if you beat Herbert... ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Von Dreck.  I can’t beat Herbert.  He’s a strong, athletic young man.”

“I don’t see why not.  I’m an equal opportunity steward, but I believe in affirmative action.  In fact, if you look to your right, Billie’s acting affirmatively now.”

Hobbled in high-heeled strap-ons, Herbert parted his jaws for a ball gag.  Billie had to stand on her tiptoes in order to strap it in place.  “I’ll run in your race,” said Robyn, “but I won’t humiliate Herbert.”

“No one’s going to be humiliated.  Don’t you ever go to the races?  Some horses carry more weight than others.”

“Call me an underachiever, but I won’t run against him like that.”

“I think I can persuade you,” said Von Dreck.

“Think again,” Robyn challenged.  “What can you to do to me now that you haven’t already done before?”

“Don’t take it so personally,” said Von Dreck.  “Only Herbert will suffer if he crosses the finish line ahead of you.  How would you like to see Herbert in the old mill?”

Robyn stood on the starting line with Ethyl and a hampered Herbert.  After the first hundred yards, it became surprisingly clear that no one would ever catch Ethyl.  Notwithstanding the burden of her years, she ran with effortless strides that left Robyn and Herbert far behind.  Robyn’s sole concern was with Herbert.  In spite of his short, choppy strides, he moved with surprising speed.  Robyn followed closely behind, sure he would soon fall off the pace without his full mouth to breath through.  When she tried to pass him, however, he also picked up the pace.

The shorter Robyn’s breath grew, the faster her confidence waned.  Then, all at once, it happened.  Herbert fell hard on his chest, unable to negotiated a hole without the full span of his legs.  Robyn gratefully slackened her pace, concerned that he might be hurt, but happy to finish second.  Her happiness was short-lived.  Herbert was back on his feet and rapidly closing the gap.

Robyn tried to match Herbert’s effort, but her legs refused to respond.  With tears of exhaustion on her face, she watched him pass ploddingly by and sprawl at the winner’s feet.

After Billie had watered the competitors, Robyn sat down beside Ethyl and watched Doris lead Herbert away.  “I’m sorry I let him down, but why was he running so hard?”

“He was doing it for you,” said Ethyl.  “If he had’t finished ahead of you, Doris was going to hang you up by your ankles.”

XXIII.  In the Steps of The Master

“How long did I nap?” asked Robyn.

“Almost three hours,” replied Ethyl, looking nervously out the farmhouse window.

“Praying for rain?” asked Robyn.

“Just the opposite.  Much as we need the rain, I wouldn’t want to ruin your big day.”

“If it gets any bigger, I’ll need someone to administer last rites.”

“You’ll feel better after your bath.”

“I don’t recall seeing a tub.”

“Billie’s bringing it now.”

“Where’s Herbert?” asked Robyn, by this time fully awake and reminded of the day’s events by the marks still circling her wrists.

“He went back to the city.”

“How long was he in the old mill?”

“If you mean under the oak tree, only about ten minutes.  Doris leaves me in that position quite a lot longer than that.”

“For what it’s worth,” said Robyn, “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“For what?”

“For being a bad judge of character.  I thought you were weird and, even worse than that, I used to think Doris was decent.  It’s exactly the other way around.”

Ethyl smiled enigmatically.  “Don’t sell first impressions short.  I’ll get over any hurt feeling.  There are worse things than being weird.”

“You’re not only decent, you’re amazing.  How can a woman your age run as far and fast as you do with your hands tied behind your back and without even breathing hard?”

“I get out of breath,” said Ethyl, “but staying in shape is important.  For you, it’s not yet a problem.  You look great any way you are tied.  At my age it’s not as easy.  Once John ties me up, I can’t always suck in my gut or avoid an unflattering angle.”

Billie finally appeared, dragging a round, wooden tub straight out of some western movie, then joined a two-woman brigade fetching buckets of heated water.  Almost ten minutes went by before she and Von Dreck deemed the tub fit for its intended use.  Ethyl was first to speak, “All you have to do, dear, is relax.  We’ll look after everything else.”

“I couldn’t have put it better,” said Von Dreck.  “Since our guest won’t be needing her hands, Billie might as well tie them behind her.  There’s some pretty blue ribbon on the dresser.”

“Back to Robyn in Wonderland,” thought Robyn, as Billie tied the ribbon on her wrists.  Somewhat hampered by the loss of her arms, she stepped over the rim of the tub and into its soothing contents.  The limited size of the tub forced her knees up under her chin but did not diminish the pleasure of heat seeping into muscles still aching from recent exertions.

“You have beautiful skin,” said Ethyl.  “This bath oil will help keep it moist.”

Robyn closed her eyes, pleasurably aware of the brush soaping up her shoulders and back.  “Hey, what are you doing?” she cried, her near slumber interrupted by the pressure of a thumb and forefinger gently raising her damp left breast.

“My God, they’re real!” exclaimed Ethyl.

“Of course, they’re real, you idiot.  Did you think they were pasted on?”

“Just checking for implants,” said Ethyl.  “Nowadays, it’s hard to be sure.  My husband says the telltale clue is a faint horizontal scar along the base of each boob.”

“Okay, you’ve checked,” said Robyn.  “Now can we proceed with the bath?”

Von Dreck took exception to the outburst.  “That’s no way to talk to Ethyl.  She’s gone to a lot of trouble just to try to make you presentable.”

“That’s alright, dear,” said Ethyl.  “While you sit back and relax, I’m going to wash your hair.  It’s loaded with dirt and hay, and only the Lord knows what else.”

About twenty minutes later, Ethyl helped Robyn out of the tub and carefully toweled her off.  “I think you’ll like your new outfit.  It can’t match your fancy dresses, but few men I know would complain.”

Robyn vented mild annoyance, “I don’t know what Doris told you, but I’m not at all like you think...  my late Uncle Filbert bought the dresses.  He liked to show me off at society balls.”

After Billie untied Robyn’s wrists, Ethyl helped Robyn don her odd, but familiar, costume.  She even added some perfume.  “What is it called?” asked Robyn, far from displeased with it scent.

“Ropage No. 3.”  Deadpanned Ethyl, accentuating the first syllable of Ropage and pronouncing the ‘G’ like a ‘J’.  “John gave it to me for my birthday.”

“I’ve smelled a lot worse,” said Robyn, welcoming something to laugh at.  “Are you putting on it or me?”

“We’re not here to discuss perfume,” said Von Dreck.  “It’s time to get you outside.”  Robyn did not have to be led.  Her destination was a small tree about fifty yards from the house and distinguished by its thin, straight trunk.  Von Dreck was well supplied with rope and began using it in a way that confirmed Robyn’s earlier suspicions.  “Well, how do you like it so far?”

“You’ve tied me tighter,” said Robyn now standing up just as straight as the tree to which she was tied.

“The dress, not the bondage,” said Von Dreck.

“There’s not much to like or hate.  If it was any shorter, you could see my... “

“Garters,” Von Dreck interrupted, her hand over Robyn’s mouth.  “Billie did a good job, but she should have shortened it more.  Once I get you all tied, I’ll tuck the hem of your skirt under the circling cord.  That way, anyone can see how the bows on your garter straps match the one on your pretty shoes.”

“Where did you find the dress?  I don’t think it’s one of Sears’ Best.”

“That reminds me of a joke,” said Von Dreck.  “An heiress is kidnapped by terrorists.  How do you think they tortured her?”

“Made her listen to one of your jokes.”

Von Dreck pulled extra hard on the cord she was winding around and around Robyn’s cinch-covered waist.  “This may feel a little tight, but if you could see how you look, you would not change a single loop.”

“I recognize the position,” said Robyn.  “It got me in trouble once before.  Obviously, I’m supposed to be Gwendoline.  In the classic John Willie drawing, the bondage is courtesy of the Countess, but U-69 tells Gwen that, unless she is able to escape, she will have to stay tied to the tree.”

“I know all about that,” said Ethyl, “but how did it get you in trouble?’

“I was coming to that,” said Robyn.  “Bondage Life ran a version in which someone had changed the caption to ‘ ...that doesn’t look like Love Bondage to me’.  Gaylord was furious.  He started out mad at Robert Harmon and ended up mad at me.”

“Why was he mad at you?”

“For changing the caption again.  I substituted ‘How was your day?’”

“A definite improvement,” said Ethyl.

“Gaylord didn’t think so.  He liked it even less than the caption I snuck into one of his John Savage Notebooks, the one with a fully nude model in about 350 feet of clothesline.”

“What was the caption?”

“In one of the panels, you can see a little of John Savage.  I had him saying, “’There, that ought to hold you’.”

“I like that even better than the first one.  Doesn’t Gaylord have any sense of humor?”

“Not when he thinks someone has desecrated the work of his bondage heroes.  The only thing I regret is not telling him what I really thought about his crossword puzzles and his palindrome.”

“Gaylord constructs crossword puzzles?”

“None that he ever has finished.  He showed me part of one, but I don’t think it had a solution.  Can you think of a ten-letter word starting with the letter ‘N’ and meaning a kind of bondage?”

Ethyl struck a thoughtful pose.  “I might if I thought for a while.”

“Did you try ‘no-nonsense’?” asked Von Dreck, still working on Robyn’s ankles.

“What is a palindrome?” asked Ethyl.

“Something that’s spelled the same backward or forward.  Gaylord came up with ‘egad, no bondage’.”

“Pretty clever,” said Ethyl.

“Pretty stupid,” said Robyn.  “Who’d ever say something like that?”

“Maybe someone who had just shelled out six dollars to see ‘9½ Weeks’.”

“That about does it,” said Von Dreck, knotting the harness-like arrangement squaring Robyn’s shoulders to the tree.  “You can settle your argument later.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” asked Robyn.

“Tell you what?” asked Von Dreck.

“How the terrorists tortured the heiress.”

“I thought I told you,” said Von Dreck, rolling up a long strip of cloth and wadding it in Robyn’s mouth.  “They made her wear a dress off the rack.”

XXIV.  Love Bondage Conquers All

Bondage and abandonment followed a similar pattern.  First Robyn tested the bondage.  Then she remembered at whose whim she was curled up on a bed, stretched out on a board on a roof, or, as in the present instance, attached to a scrubby tree.  It was a time to think.  it was also a pain in the ass.

Robyn was not quite abandoned.  Every so often, Von Dreck or Ethyl would appear, the former to readjust Robyn’s far too escapable gag, the latter to wipe off her face or tuck what there was of her skirt underneath a tightly drawn cord.

Von Dreck’s faithful executing of the classic John Willie cartoon brought fuller appreciation of the tragic master’s technique.  Gaylord had told her that Willie sketched his subjects from photos, and Robyn tried to imagine the thoughts of the nameless lady whose legacy she was preserving.

There wasn’t a wasted cord.  Robyn might just as well have been armless.  Her legs were so artfully tied and her body so firmly supported that removing her bow-bedecked shoes might have left her still poised on her toes.  Cord-work constricting her waist and squaring her partly bared shoulders proudly presented her breasts without one single trespassing strand.  Yet, the neatly drawn cords were so judiciously distributed that she felt no particular discomfort.

It started as a cloud of dust moving from left to right along a parched country road.  Robyn followed its swirling progress as it veered at the turn in the road leading to the Gordian farm.  Then, as in Wordsworth’s poem, she felt her heart leap up as the long-absent Gaylord dashed out of his ancient Buick, encircled her with his arms, and found her face with his lips.  “It’s all my fault,” he said softly.  “If there’s any chance for forgiveness, tell me what I have to do.”

“More of what you’re doing now,” said Robyn, fairly easily slipping her gag.

“There will be lots of time for that.  First, I’ll deal with Benedict Arnold.  Herbert will get you undone.”

Robyn looked on in dismay as Gaylord raced toward the farmhouse and his now recognizable passenger did battle with Von Dreck’s knots.  “It may take a while,” said Herbert.  “I never carry a knife.”

“If you can’t get me out of these ropes, at least tell me what’s going on.”

“There, your elbows are free,” said Herbert.  “I’ll have your wrists in a minute.”

“I appreciate what you’re are doing, but I would like to know what is happening.”

“There isn’t much to tell.  I handed Gaylord the envelope.  He opened it, looked at the pictures, and, the next thinf I knew, we were passing every car on the road.”

“What pictures?”

“The ones of you on the post.”

“That was very brave of you, Herbert.”

“Bravery had nothing to do with it.  Who do you think gave me the pictures?  She said you were no good to anyone while you went around mooning over Gaylord.”

Ethyl arrived with cold drinks, Robyn, now free of her bonds, sat down beside the tree of which she had just been a part and gulped down a diet cola.  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I can’t share your worship of someone who goes around mistreating people, especially when one of them is me.”

“You still don’t understand, do you?  Surely you don’t think Sir Galahad would have come riding to your rescue if those had been the kind of pictures that are published in Bondage Life.”

“There are worse thing than not getting rescued.  Oh well, why don’t you run inside and do some rescuing of your own?”

“Don’t worry about Doris,” said Ethyl, as Herbert took Robyn’s advice.  “It’s exactly what she expected.  If Gaylord does a good job, it will be a treat for my husband.  I expect him in time for dinner.”

“It’s all very confusing,” said Robyn.  “If I were her only victim, I could forgive and forget, but look what she’s doing to Herbert.”

“What is she doing to Herbert?”

“Must you defend her to the end?  She’s turning him into... oh, I don’t know what to call it, but I’m sure there’s some technical term.”

“I think she’s done wonders with Herbert.  He’s gaining more confidence all the time.  As for the matter you mention, Doris says it is only a phase.  She says that, before very long, he’ll be more like Gaylord than Gaylord.”

“What’s so great about that?  What kind of a man stays away for three months because someone has guaranteed his note?”

“There’s more to it than that,” said Ethyl.

“Is this something else Doris told you?

“Where else do you think I get my information?  He’d never admit it, but he puts you on such a high pedestal that it makes him a little bashful.  That’s why he was seldom around when you were tied up in the studio, and that’s why he always sent Herbert to see how you were getting along.”

“Is that also why he ran in the house to deal with Benedict Arnold?”

“He’ll be out in a minute,” said Ethyl.

“in that case,” said Robyn, carefully straightening out her hose, “I’m glad Herbert did not have a knife.  Would you mind picking up the ropes and tying me back to this tree?”

The End (?)