UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
THE ADVENTURES OF
Shorty & the Cowgirl
by Van © 2002
OF JESSIE McQUADE'S
CAMPUS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF
Three hours in
the hot attic—three hours of excruciatingly tight bondage—three
balancing her weight on one foot... for as long as she could take it...
then doing the awkward hop to the other foot. Chelsea
and strong (albeit decidedly petite) and anything but
but even the resilience of youth has its limits.
Chelsea blinked in concentration,
struggling to stay focused. She stared down at her left
tan, and glistening with sweat (like the rest of her), it was trembling
slightly from fatigue, its ankle bound with soft, cotton clothesline
(also like the rest of her), its toes squirming as she shifted
her weight ever so slightly to maintain her balance. The short,
tan, blonde Brit's wrists were tied behind her back in the "double
position, wrists crossed and tied between her shoulderblades.
rope encircled her arms and torso, and was hitched and lashed into a
shoulder-yolking, arm pinning, flesh-dimpling harness. The pose
was as uncomfortable as it was unnatural, the expertly applied bonds as
artistic as they were inescapable. Chelsea could flutter her
but that was about it. Twisting her upper body only made the
around her firm, small breasts pinch, and flexing her arms was
rope (the stiff, itchy, scratchy kind) had been tied
off to one of the attic timbers (about level with Chelsea's breasts),
stretched between the captive's legs, and back up to a second timber,
leaving Chelsea straddling the taut rope in the middle of the attic,
her parted labia
at the point of a shallow "V" of hemp. In addition, a brass ring
(riding tack) was hitched through the hemp rope, about a foot behind
captive's naked, dimpled rump. A length of cotton clothesline was
threaded through the ring. One end was wrapped, cinched, and
around Chelsea's left ankle, the very ankle in her current gaze.
The other was tied around her right ankle. The rope in between
was insufficient for Chelsea to plant both feet on the attic floor at
once... hence the occasional (carefully, deliberately timed) hop, the
dry slither of rope through the ring, and the exchange of one tired
foot for the other.
As a final touch, a rope was tied
from Chelsea's wrist bonds up the the ceiling, but the rope was not
particularly taut. It only served to keep the sweaty, helpless
falling to either side if her weight came down on the "V" of hemp (and
her sex). The system had been tested. About an hour ago,
while changing feet, Chelsea had slipped, and the inevitable had
her weight had come crashing down on her most intimate anatomy, the
hemp prickling like tiny needles, Chelsea's feet scrambling on the
planks. After several seconds, she finally managed to get
one foot planted correctly, and with considerable effort (the position
was awkward and she was very tired), she had straightened her
leg and resumed her ordeal. She shook her head, causing droplets
of sweat to spin away into the still, hot air of the attic. I
certainly don't want to repeat that, she mused, but how much
longer 'til I have no choice... 'til my legs give out completely... and
I'm riding this horrid rope, too exhausted to stand?
The question was internal and
rhetorical and there was no one present to answer, even if it had
been spoken aloud... which was, by the way, impossible. Chelsea
was gagged. Her panties were stuffed in her mouth, and held there
by dermafoam, the TESSERACT Products tape which, once applied
in layers, cured in the air and fused into a solid, inseparable
mass. Her face was covered with head-encircling bands of
dermafoam from just below her nose to just under her
chin. The fused wrappings were tight, impossible to shift or even
move, and pressed her face and stuffed mouth like elastic bandages.
And what cruel sadist had
done this to poor, innocent Chelsea? What despicable villain
tied her naked body in what amounted to exquisite torture? What
inhuman blackguard had ignored her piteous, gagged whimpering and
pathetic struggles and abandoned her to this hideous fate? Why,
new best friend, lover, and roommate, Jessie McQuade, of course.
You just wait 'til it's my turn,
Cowgirl, Chelsea fumed, blinking sweat from her eyes. After
a two day trip from Gondaloo to Cairns to Hong Kong, to LA, to
Tucson... they had arrived at Jessie's townhouse (Chelsea's residence
as well, now that she was joining Jessie as a University of Arizona
student and would be her roommate). Both were tired and very
jet-lagged, but Jessie had decreed there would be no napping 'til after
sunset (living by the sun being the best
cure for jet-lag). A tour of the house had ensued (with Chelsea
the role of Naked Kidnap Victim (just to keep things "interesting"))...
and then the captive had been placed in her current predicament, in her
current location... and the waiting had begun. It has to
sundown, Chelsea thought, twisting in her bonds.
There was a small window in the attic, but it was South-facing, and as
the sun dipped towards the horizon, its rays became more
Chelsea wouldn't know it was sundown until the light changed color and
began fading completely.
Chelsea did her next hop (she'd long
since lost count)—and her eyes shot wide and she shrieked through her
alarm! She'd almost lost her footing. Chelsea
struggled erect, and now her weight was on her right foot... and her
was trembling, threatening to cramp. Noooo!
"Having trouble there, Shorty?"
Chelsea turned her head to find she
was not alone. The cruel, sadistic, despicable, inhuman,
etc., etc., villainess had returned. Jessie had changed
into cutoff jeans and a tank-top, after a refreshing shower, no
captive groused. Despite her predicament (and her irritation
at having been abandoned for so long), the short, blonde
Brit couldn't help but sigh through her gag at the sight of her captor
(and lover). Several inches taller than herself; slender,
toned limbs and body covered with millions of freckles, just a hint
of baby fat still on her twenty-year-old frame, just the slightest
endearing touch of girlish, adolescent clumsiness
still mixed with her athletic, tomboyism demeaner, that glorious head
swaying, straight, copper red locks, the face of an angel,
a Celtic goddess, clever, smart, inventive, delightfully,
gawkishly American... Jessie was a treasure... And
loves me! the petite prisoner mused.
"Used to the Arizona heat yet?"
Jessie quipped, then walked to her captive, seized the short prisoner's
head in her two, strong, freckled hands... gave Chelsea's sweat-slick
a long, languid lick... then smacked her lips, a coy smile on her
face. "Hmm... I guess you're done." Supporting Chelsea with
her left arm, Jessie began untying the prisoner's left ankle. The
tall redhead smiled when her petite friend sighed through her gag and
her sweat dampened head on Jessie's freckled shoulder. The left
free, Jessie pulled the now free end through the ring, untied the
wrist-to-ceiling rope, and lifted Chelsea off the crotch rope.
She cradled the still very much helpless bundle in her arms and looked
around the attic. "This place needs some convenient lashing
points," she observed. "I'll have to find some steel brackets
with swivels and rings I can screw into
the rafters and framing timbers at strategic locations... maybe a small
motorized winch on a track to run along the ceiling peak.
What'cha think? ...now that you've had time to appreciate the
Chelsea lifted her sweaty, gagged
head, locked eyes with her tormentor (and lover) and rolled her eyes in
Jessie laughed and reached with her
right hand towards the dangling rope still tied around Chelsea's right
ankle. The short, captive Brit flexed her right leg helpfully, to
ankle into easy range of Jessie's questing fingers. The tall
picked at the knot, pursing her lips in concentration, then finally
succeeded in negotiating its complexities and unraveling the
rope slithered to the ground to lay in a loose tangle.
Chelsea rested her head back against
Jessie's shoulder, and her captor/rescuer carried her towards the attic
The master bedroom of the
townhouse had an attached master bath with a large shower, a sunken
tub, and a
sauna. (The bedroom that had been tentatively claimed by Chelsea
during the tour wasn't nearly as expansive, nor was the nearest unattached
as splendid. But it beat the heck out of a dorm room,
of that Chelsea was sure.)
Jessie carried her tan, sweaty,
petite, helpless burden into the master bath and lay her on the floor,
then set about untying the rope pinning the blonde pixie's arms and
wrists against her torso. Soon Chelsea's arms, shoulders, and
breasts were free,
but, having been tied with a separate length of rope, her wrists
neatly and tightly bound in a crossed position behind her
Jessie crossed Chelsea's ankles and used the former chest rope to bind
together, leaving a long, trailing, free end. Jessie then stood
walked towards one of the sinks. A liter bottle of sports drink
was nestled in crushed ice. The grinning redhead picked up the
a small pair of stainless steel bandage scissors, and turned.
Tiny, helpless, her blonde bob a
tousled, sweat-dampened mop—her tan, toned, glistening skin seeming to glow
in the late afternoon/early evening light—Chelsea
squirmed weakly in her bonds, on her side, her short body in a
Jessie gazed down at her lover, friend, and momentary prisoner,
in the sensuous, sinusoidal curve of perfect skin flowing from neck to
freckled shoulder to tan ribs to hips to thighs to calves... to strong,
tiny feet. Chelsea gazed back at her captor with sleepy
blue eyes, and twisted in her bonds.
"Flirt," Jessie snorted, embarrassed
by her naked appreciation of her naked friend. Carrying the
and scissors the grinning redhead sauntered towards Chelsea, settled
to the floor, and hauled the naked bundle's head and shoulders onto her
"Hold still," she ordered and carefully snipped through the dermafoam
encircling Chelsea's lower face and neck. She then set the
on the floor, peeled off the tape and tossed it away, then helped the
blinking captive expel her panties from her mouth.
"Yuck," Chelsea complained with a
grimace. "You beastly sadist! How dare you—"
"Hold that thought," Jessie
interrupted, popped the top on the sports drink and held it to
"Oooh—gimme!" the blonde pixie
purred, and drank with gusto, guzzling the entire
contents. Jessie set the empty bottle on the floor as Chelsea
licked her lips. "Thanks... now, where was I? Oh yes!
You beastly sadist! How dare you leave me up there all
afternoon! I have half a mind to—"
Jessie leaned down and silenced her
prisoner with a savage kiss, thrusting her tongue into the
diminutive Brit's mouth. Chelsea mewed in surprise, then returned
the kiss with gusto. The kissing continued for some time, as
Jessie's hands roamed over Chelsea's breasts, tummy, thighs, and sex.
Chelsea turned her head to the
side. "Sadist!" she accused, then returned to kissing her captor,
her hips against Jessie's hand.
Jessie took a pause of her own.
"Flirt!" she purred, and kissed Chelsea's neck, nibbled her left ear,
then returned to her lips.
Chelsea broke away again, squirming
in her bonds. "I have half a mind to—oh!—to..."
Jessie's hand was inside her dripping sex, and was expertly massaging
the helpless captive's clit. "I... when it's my turn,
when... I'll—oh!—Stop it! Stop! Oooh... Nooo!
Chelsea's scream was silenced by her
captor/tormentor/lover's lips and tongue. The pixie captive
her bonds and the grip of Jessie's strong arms and hands, writhing in
Finally, flushed, panting, and glistening with sweat, Chelsea lay in
lap, gazing up at the redhead's freckled, smiling face. "Sadist!"
Jessie laughed. "That's one you
owe me, Flirt," she said and stood, stripped off her tank-top, shorts,
and panties (her still panting prisoner watching the perfunctory
striptease with an appreciative smirk), then picked up her bound
captive and carried her towards the shower.
After a rinse, a thorough
soaping, and a final rinse, Jessie carried her prisoner into the master
bath's large sauna.
"Oh please, darling," Chelsea whined,
"not more heat! The attic was bad enough. It must
be a thousand degrees in here!"
Chelsea set her helpless burden down
on her stomach on a towel stretched over a wide, wooden bench.
"Trust me, Shorty," the grinning redhead purred, "this is just what you
need." She then sat next to her prisoner, oiled her hands from a
small bottle, and began kneading Chelsea's shoulders.
"Too hot!," Chelsea complained.
"Ow! Stop it! Stop. Stop it right... there
. Lower, stop it lower. Yesss... oooh...
stop. Stop it harder... ooooh! I'm... too...
Jessie's grin widened to a wry
smile. "Ya got that right, Short Stuff."
"Huh? Oooh... stop!"
The massage continued. Jessie
worked around Chelsea's bonds, kneading and manipulating the short
blonde from head to toes. By the time she was pressing her thumbs
into the firm soles of Chelsea's tiny feet, the captive's protestations
had become inarticulate moaning, her weak struggles had given way to
slow squirming, and both prisoner and masseuse were flushed and
dripping with sweat.
"I think we're both done,"
Jessie purred, and carried Chelsea back to the shower.
The shower was followed by a fluffy
toweling for both (administered by Jessie, of course), followed by
Chelsea being tucked into the master suite's king-size bed, followed by
a supper of wine, cheese, and finger sandwiches. The sleepy
blonde's wrists and ankles remained crossed and bound the entire time,
as they did afterwards, when Jessie turned out the lights and climbed
under the light covers, snuggling her naked body against her naked
Soon both were fast asleep.
|| CHAPTER 1
Chelsea woke in the middle of
the night. The bound, naked blonde lifted her head and scanned
the near-darkness of the master bedroom. It felt like some time
after midnight, but she couldn't find a clock she could read.
rolled away at some point. Starlight from a skylight overhead
the redhead's fair, freckled face a ghostly glow. Chelsea
Her American friend, lover, and (for the moment) captor looked so
so innocent... her coral lips slightly parted... a few strands of her
copper red hair lying in sinuous, elegant chaos across the left half of
face... the covers were pulled down to reveal one strong, white,
shoulder... the firm, perfect globe of her right breast... the relaxed
bump of her right nipple.
Chelsea lay her head back her the
pillow... and sighed. She felt rested and ready for the new
day... only the new day in question was still hours away. I'm
never gonna get back to sleep, she mused. Damned
jet-lag! If only I can...
A mischievous grin on her face, the
wrist and ankle bound pixie sloooowly flexed her legs, until
her fingers could touch the rope bands around her ankles. All the
while, her attention was on the still slumbering Jessie. The
redhead neither stirred nor moved nor gave any indication she was
anything but fast asleep. Chelsea's ankles were crossed and bound
(to make hopping difficult if not altogether impossible), but her Yank
captor had been a little sloppy in her technique: the key knots
were within easy reach of Chelsea's fingers, and she had neglected to
use the long, free end of the ankle rope to secure her prisoner to the
bed. Probably you're more jet-lagged than you believe,
Cowgirl. The ankle rope came free and Chelsea slowly eased
and legs out from under the covers. And now you pay!
planted her feet on the carpeted floor and
slowly... very slowly... slid herself to the floor. She
lay listening for several long seconds... for a minute... There
no change in Jessie's breathing. Then, the redhead rolled onto her
causing Chelsea to flinch in alarm. Biting her lower lip (a
habit), the still wrist-bound Brit eased herself to her knees, her
hammering. Jessie had rolled towards her... but was still asleep.
Chelsea watched her captor's slumber
for several more seconds... then, grinning in anticipation, tiptoed
silently into the master bath. She eased the connecting door
closed, then padded to the center of the room and eased herself down
onto the cold tiles. Grimacing in concentration, Chelsea bent at
the waist, struggling to
pass her wrists from back to front, past her hips and buttocks.
She was young and flexible, but jumping or rolling or wiggling
her bound wrists past the obstacle of her own pelvis was not
The struggling Brit knew it was possible. Years earlier,
one of the rare occasions when she'd managed to maneuver her older
Penny into being the bindee (for once), her tall, athletic, slender
(unkind younger sisters might say skinny, scrawny, or
beanpole ) sibling had accomplished the feat before her captor's
(Chelsea's) astonished eyes. Having lost the seminal wager,
Chelsea and her friend Connie had then spent the remainder of the night
bound and gagged and locked in Penny's closet. The incident had
inspired Chelsea to take up yoga
(like Penny) and she knew what she was attempting ought to be
The naked, bound pixie struggled
on. After several long minutes (and only after
up a little lubricating sweat) Chelsea finally succeeded in
her joined hands past her hips. She then eased her feet through
hoop of her arms and bound wrists... and slowly, gracefully, stood
Her wrists were still crossed and bound, but now they were in
Smiling in triumph, she used her lips, teeth, and tongue to attack the
knot. It was stubborn, but eventually succumbed to Chelsea's
The windings uncoiled, the rope slithered to the tiles... and she was
|| CHAPTER 1
A pixie with a purpose,
Chelsea tiptoed back into the bedroom. Her former wrist rope was
in her hands, a slip-knot with a long free end tied it its
The grinning blonde approached the bed, carefully felt under the covers
until she found her former ankle rope... and slowly pulled it free.
Jessie, her target, was lying on her
back, slightly to the right side of the large bed, her head turned
to the left, her right hand raised slightly. As Chelsea watched,
Jessie's eyes rolled under her closed lids, her lips twitched, and the
of her right hand fluttered, ever so slightly. Aw... sweet
dreams, Cowgirl , Chelsea whispered silently, and slowly,
carefully, eased the noose of soft, braided cotton around
Jessie's right wrist, and
slooowly pulled it closed. The grinning blonde watched her
slumbering face as she tied the rope off to the headboard.
her red-haired "victim" dreamed blissfully on.
Chelsea tiptoed to the other side of
the bed, tying another centered slipknot in her former ankle rope as
she went. She then paused, chewing her lower lip in
examining what she could see of Jessie's position, the lay of the
planning the next (and critical) phase of her attack.
had several inches of height on her, and the coltish tomboy was strong.
with one of Jessie's wrists tied, victory in a wrestling
with the "Cowgirl" was anything but a sure thing for "Shorty".
Chelsea lifted the edge of the
covers until she found Jessie's left hand. Luckily, it was not
pinned under the sleeper's body. She eased the second noose of
rope over Jessie's left hand, tightened the loop, passed one free end
the rope around the post of the headboard... then took a deep breath...
and gently but firmly lifted Jessie's wrist and arm and tied off the
to the post.
Jessie didn't come fully awake
until Chelsea was just finishing wrapping the free end of the
rope several times around the prisoner's wrist and tying a hitch
the slipknot. "Wha'th...? Hey! Lemme-GO!"
pulled on both wrists. The headboard shook very slightly,
but that was all.
"Don't do that!" Chelsea scolded,
"not until I finish binding your wrists. If you tug on that noose
you might hurt yourself."
Jessie struggled and bucked on
the bed, churning the covers and bringing more of her naked self into
but not achieving her freedom. Meanwhile, Chelsea sauntered to
right side of the bed and began wrapping her captive's right wrist in
rope, as she had the left.
"You little twerp!" Jessie
growled, shaking her head and trying to blow errant strands of red hair
from her freckled face. "When I get free I'm gonna—ow!—get
off my arm!!!"
Chelsea had climbed onto the bed and
was using her weight to pin her prisoner's right arm as she untied
the right rope from the headboard and repositioned it to the right
headboard post. When she was finished, Jessie was pinioned on her
the center of the bed, her arms raised and outstretched. "There!"
the grinning blonde said, repositioned herself to straddle Jessie's
and settled her naked weight on her naked captive's pale, flat tummy.
"Get off me, you horse!"
"I said... What?"
"Dermafoam," Chelsea repeated,
an infuriatingly sweet smile on her pixie face. "Where's the
nearest roll of that delightful product you used on me
Jessie growled like a captive
she-wolf (although Chelsea could just see the hint of a
in her prisoner's green eyes). "When I get free, I'm gonna—Ahhh!!"
Chelsea had casually cupped Jessie's
breasts in her hands and was giving the left nipple a rather unkind
drawer! Nightstand! Ahhh!—Left nightstand!"
"Good little Cowgirl," Chelsea
cooed, preparing to pinch Jessie's right nipple. "And
"Same! Same place!"
Chelsea leaned down and gave each
nipple a rather wet, prolonged kiss, then smiled when she noted the
coral nubbins were now rather flushed and erect. She gave each a
playful flick (causing her prisoner to wince and
growl in complaint) and climbed off the bed. "Don't go
the grinning, naked pixie admonished.
SHORTY & the
|| CHAPTER 1
spread-eagled on her own bed—Three hours pulling on her taut,
inescapable bonds—Three hours with her rump on a stack of
pillows, making her hips and sex her most prominent
feature... Jessie sighed through her gag and tried to ignore the
persistent, irritating, delightful buzz of the club-like
vibrator snugged against her flushed and elevated sex.
The gag had come first. After
waking to find herself a prisoner, Jessie could do nothing to prevent
her infuriatingly perky captor from slapping a single piece of
dermafoam over her lips, "...so you won't disturb my new
Chelsea had quipped. Jessie was then abandoned to several minutes
of futile struggling when her captor padded into the bathroom.
pulled and groped, but her fluttering fingers couldn't reach the knots
at her wrists or at the bedposts.
Then Chelsea returned, smiling
sweetly. She held up the thong panties Jessie had worn on their
two day journey from the other side of the world. "Look what I
in the hamper," Chelsea said, giving the thong a delicate shake.
"Not much of a gobstopper, though, is it? Whatever shall we do?" she
sighed, frowning in mock concern... then her expression had
"Oh, I know!" She brought her other hand from
behind her back. In it were her own panties, the pair she
had worn during the trip, the pair Jessie had stuffed in her
mouth earlier in the day. They were still crumpled (and no doubt
still slimy and damp with Chelsea's saliva). Jessie moaned and
her eyes in disgust as (still smiling sweetly) Chelsea turned Jessie's
thong inside out, and wrapped it around her own balled panties.
"Now there's a gobstopper!" the naked nymph crowed in triumph.
Chelsea then climbed onto the bed
and Jessie, settled her rump and weight on Jessie's tummy,
thoughtfully gathered her prisoner's red locks atop her head and away
from her neck, leaned close, and (without warning or preamble) ripped
the tape from Jessie's lips.
"Ow! You little—m'mmf!
Chelsea had given her "victim" a
long, deep, wet kiss... then pulled her lips away and rolled the wadded
panties and thong into the redhead's mouth. Jessie mewed in
protest, but then the strip of dermafoam was back over her lips and
reaching for the roll. She pulled several inches of tape free
fruity scent of the dermafoam's catalyst filling the air) and began
her prisoners lips, face, and neck, not stopping until Jessie's lower
was completely, neatly covered, from bulging cheeks to chin.
"There," Chelsea had purred,
climbing off her friend and pulling more tape free. "I want you
reach up and clutch your wrist ropes for me, would you please?"
had growled through her now very effective gag and glared at
cute, naked captor. Chelsea sighed. "Well... I can always
your nips for you some more, if you're going to be difficult."
had sighed... then grabbed her bonds as ordered. "Good
Chelsea said with a giggle, and began wrapping Jessie's right wrist
dermafoam, rope bonds and all. She continued winding more tape
wrist, hand, fingers, and rope were mummified. She then walked
the bed and Jessie's left wrist, hand, and fingers received identical
Chelsea then fluffed a pair of
pillows and with Jessie's cooperation (coerced by the threat of more
nipple pinching) placed them under Jessie's rump. Finally, wide
bands of rope from the nightstand drawer were tied around each ankle,
the free ends were looped around the posts of the footboard... Chelsea
smiled brightly... and she hauled in the slack, first on the
right, then on the left. A flurry of knots were tied, and Jessie
was tightly, stringently spread-eagled, as never before in her
young life. (Her cousin Victoria had tied her to her Spanish
Rack replica and left her for several long hours once, but the
hadn't been cranked as tight as this, as tight as Chelsea's
The short blonde climbed onto the bed
and settled into a semi-lotus, between Jessie's splayed legs.
"Why look, darling," the gloating pixie had said, lifting a tuft of her
prisoner's coppery red pubic hair, "your mons venus is now your
apex! How delightfully apropos." She then leaned close,
her lips, and playfully blew on the "apex" in question. Jessie
and pulled on her bonds. Chelsea then leaned forward and
one petite hand towards Jessie's belly button. "The wind was
around the summit..." Chelsea blew on Jessie's sex again.
we left our final base camp." The giggling blonde walked her
up the slope of her captive's tummy towards the "summit."
"Say," the grinning pixie said
brightly, locking eyes with her prisoner, "you don't have a sewing kit,
do you? I could make a little Union Jack and tape it to a pin
and..." She pressed her index finger down on Jessie's mons.
flag." Jessie's eyes popped wide and she mewed through her
"What?" Chelsea demanded in mock confusion. "Isn't that what
climbers do? ...plant their flag?" Jessie growled and pulled on
towards her prisoner's labia. "Not to
worry, Cowgirl," she purred, licking her lips like a hungry kitten, "I
think I'll forego mountain climbing tonight and do a little spelunking."
looong minutes of tongue and lip and finger
manipulation followed, until Jessie was pulling on her bonds with all
strength and was screaming through her gag, her gagged face,
breasts, stomach and sex flushed and beaded with sweat. Finally,
with the help of her captor's skillful, carefully timed ministrations,
Jessie climbed a peak of her own and crashed into the valley of
"I believe we're even
now, aren't we Cowgirl?"
Glistening with sweat, pulling weakly
on her stringent bonds, Jessie blinked and stared at the ceiling, her
flattened breasts heaving and nostrils flaring as she panted for
air. She lifted her tired head to find Chelsea rummaging through
"Eureka!" the short Brit crowed in
triumph, holding up Jessie's wand-style vibrator, its long cord (with
attached extension) uncoiling from the open drawer. "I knew
something... shall we say... interesting... had to be around
After all, you've lived here more than a year... without my charming
to provide entertainment." Jessie growled weakly and
on her bonds, too exhausted to show the proper outrage.
Chelsea chuckled and climbed
back onto the bed, the half-depleted roll of dermafoam in one hand, the
vibrator in the other. Biting her lower lip in concentration the
pixie carefully arranged the broad, business end of the wand against
glistening labia, then lashed it in place with strategic bands of tape
the squirming redhead's upper thighs and waist.
"There," the gloating Brit said,
climbed off the bed, and plugged in the extension cord.
Immediately a loud buzz filled the dark room, Jessie squealed
through her gag and bucked in her tight bonds. "Oh, this won't
do," Chelsea cooed, and thumbed the sliding switch on the vibrator from
"H" to "M" to
"L". Jessie relaxed in her bonds... but her hips continued
and grinding atop their perch of pillows. "That's
said with a gloating smile, and stroked Jessie's sweat-slick stomach
breasts. "Now... you stay here and play with your toy, while I go
to my room and unpack." Jessie mewed through her gag and shook
head, weakly. "I would have unpacked this afternoon,"
continued, ignoring her captive's exhausted protests, "but as you might
recall... I was otherwise occupied." She leaned close and kissed
left nipple, right nipple, and sweat beaded forehead. "Have fun,
Jessie lifted her head and watched
her tormentor leave. Horrible... The vibrator buzzed
on. ...or was it wonderful?
Three hours... three long,
dark, horrible, wonderful hours... I'll get you for
|| CHAPTER 1
returned. Jessie heard a spoon clattering in a bowl and lifted
head to find the diminutive Brit standing in the bedroom doorway,
in a frilly, baby-doll nightie, and eating a bowl of ice cream.
me?" Chelsea inquired around a mouthful of Very Berry Vanilla
only thing Jessie had in the freezer, if she remembered
Jessie pulled on her bonds in frustration. The ropes were still
and inescapable, her gag still tight and effective, and the vibrator
merrily (if weakly) buzzing away. She hadn't managed to sleep (or
cum), but had eventually settled into an exhausted half-doze, drifting
in a miasma of sexual frustration and helplessness... and now
her torturer had returned.
Chelsea climbed onto the bed (still
spooning ice cream into her smug, tan, freckled face), and resumed her
former position between Jessie's splayed legs. "This is...
yummm... good," she said, "but it needs something... hmm...
maybe some sauce that's been simmering for
a while, perhaps?" She set the bowl down, used the bandage
from the bathroom to snip the bands of tape securing the vibrator,
the wand off and set it aside, then picked up the bowl
and (a coy, infuriating, gloating smile on her pixie
face), loaded the spoon with ice cream. "Brace yourself,
Jessie screamed through her
gag when the cold spoon parted her labia, pressed against her erect
clitoris, and the lump of half-melted ice cream slid into her
The first spoon was followed by a second... then a third...
and slid her tongue
her quivering prisoner's glistening, flushed nether-lips.
"Yummm!" Chelsea purred, sucking and
slurping hungrily. Jessie moaned and struggled weakly.
The cold/hot feast continued, with Chelsea replenishing her captive's
most intimate recess with more ice cream... slurping the creamy, soupy
vanilla goodness... and replenishing again... until the bowl was
empty. "Vanilla ice cream with Cowgirl Sauce," the
gloating pixie quipped. "I should market it."
Chelsea set the bowl and vibrator on
the nightstand, pulled the pillows out from under Jessie's rump, and
climbed back onto the bed. "You didn't cum, did you?" Chelsea
inquired. Jessie squirmed in her now somewhat looser bonds and
pointedly ignored the question. "Was it the ice cream itself...
the cold spoon... or did I eat too fast?" The gloating Brit gave
Jessie's hip a playful
pat. "Poor Cowgirl," she cooed.
I'll 'Poor Cowgirl' you,
you little sadist! Jessie fumed, pulling on her ropes.
With her hips (and "ice cream bowl")
no longer elevated, Jessie's bonds were somewhat looser... but
her struggles confirmed she was still inescapably bound, her mummified
hands still impossibly out of reach of her tape-covered lips, no matter
how she contorted or stretched her pinioned limbs and body.
"I got a good start on my unpacking,"
Chelsea explained, snuggling against Jessie's naked side, "but now I'm
kinda sleepy. Let's sleep in... shall we?" Jessie rolled
her eyes in frustration and tugged on her bonds. "We can go out
for a late
breakfast," Chelsea continued, "and then you can show me the
campus. ...or maybe we can do something else when I
wake? ...something... fun?"
Jessie relaxed in her bonds and
stared at the ceiling. Now I can't sleep, she
mused. Damn jet-lag!
Chelsea lifted her sleepy head and
locked eyes with her captive. Blue eyes gazed into green as the
smiling pixie traced the lower curve of Jessie's right breast with one
finger. Jessie quivered as the finger's nail gently slid across
skin. "So strong and smart and full of fight... and totally
helpless," the gloating blonde mused in a girlish, soprano
whisper. "This is the best part of the game, isn't it
Jessica? You're tied up... and gagged..." Chelsea's
arm lifted and the finger traced the point of Jessie's chin, along the
margin where dermafoam met skin. "...and your bonds have been
tested..." The finger traced the side of Jessie's throat,
pausing to feel the strong, regular throb of the captive's carotid
artery. "...and you know yourself to be totally helpless,
completely in my power... and I can do anything I want to you... and no
one will be coming to stop me... and no one even knows
what I'm doing to you..." The finger continued down and
explored the freckled skin over the captive's sternum. "It's
not a matter of trust right now, is it Jessica? Trust is
irrelevant. You're helpless..." The finger returned to
Jessie's lower right breast. "...totally helpless."
Jessie resisted the urge to pull on
her bonds. She didn't need to. Chelsea had said it, and it
was true: 'helpless'. A thrill passed through her
body, and her lover smiled, her blue eyes and tan, freckled face
in the weak starlight. She knows, Jessie mused, the
thrill shuddering down her spine and through her loins again.
I love you, Shorty.
"That's how it was for me this
afternoon," Chelsea continued, her expression turning slightly...
wistful. "...up in that hot attic, suffering in your tight, cruel
ropes, knowing I was beyond rescue, beyond
Jessie couldn't help but smile above
her gag. Drama queen!
Chelsea sighed. "Well...
enough... I'm sleepy." She dropped her head and snuggled her
tousled, blonde mop against Jessie's side, then cupped Jessie's right
breast, gently squeezing the pale, freckled globe in her strong, tan
"Hmm... poor Jessie," she purred. "I certainly hope you can sleep
with that icky, sticky, melted ice cream mess drying in your cunny,"
short blonde mumbled... then gave a huge, kittenish yawn and released
breast. "G'night, Cowgirl."
Jessie sighed and tried to
relax in her bonds. Just you wait, Short Stuff, she
fumed, just you wait... little sadist!
|| of Shorty &
the Cowgirl—Chapter 1
SPECIAL THANKS to
Courier for his "Poser/FotoFake"
(...okay, I helped
with the post-production & polishing! J )