On the Warpath
By Van & Zack © 2002

To see the actors the authors would cast in ON THE WARPATH:THE MOTION PICTURE ,
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Our Story Continues
Pierre was in a gloomy mood as he walked across the road.  He had tried repeatedly to see Melissa, and she had turned him away repeatedly.  He cursed the twisted sense of humor that had caused him to tease her.  Granted, her prattle of feminist clichés was ludicrous, but she was smart, and would grow out of the worst of it... he hoped.  After all, he mused, I used to think the stock market wasn't a rigged game.   More importantly, Mel had been cute five years ago, but now she was sensational.  "The eternal male conflict when relating to women," he muttered to himself. "Sex, or intellectual integrity?"  Or as Mark, Pierre's first roommate at Dartmouth had put it (on more than one occasion): 'Brains or booty?  Noggin or nookie?'  Pierre was 21.  Half the answer to that question was automatic.  He was also a maturing adult of good character.  He told himself what he'd told Mark: I want both!

Pierre crossed the road but stayed out of sight of the farmhouse.  He had noticed that Melissa usually napped in the hammock about this time every day, and he hoped to get close enough to speak to her before she ran into the house.  He looked out from the edge of the woods... and there she was.  "Sleeping Beauty!" Pierre sighed.  Long, tan legs; strong bare feet; toned, lithe, athletic body; gorgeous red hair; the face of Aphrodite... with just the lightest sprinkling of freckles.  I bet she even snores pretty, Pierre mused, and resolved to get close enough to find out; but then he noticed the children, Melissa's charges, sneaking up on their aunt, and Mike and one of the twins had rope in their hands!  What have we here? Pierre wondered.  This looks... interesting.   He decided to stay hidden in the woods and see what transpired.
After the children's attack Melissa woke up confused, but she rallied quickly.  She swung her feet out of the hammock and stood up, but when she tried to take a step she was tripped by the hobble and would have fallen except for the quick reflexes of Cheryl and Mike.  They grabbed her upper arms and eased her to a half-sitting position.  Andy grabbed her ankle hobble, and the now twisted hammock supported Melissa's upper body.  The captive writhed in her bonds and her captors' hands, all thrashing legs and twisting torso, pulling on whatever was binding her wrists and tossing her bagged head.

"What do you kids think you're doing?" Melissa screamed, her words only slightly muffled by the cloth of the bag.  "Untie me at once!  All of you are in big — mmumph! "  She had more to say, but Cheryl jammed a stick gag in her mouth and tied it in place.

Cheryl shouted instructions to her minions.  "Janet, you untie the hammock and pull it clear of her arms.  Andy and Jeremy, wrap those ropes around her waist and tie them in front."

Once the hammock was out of the way the boys wrapped the nylon ropes attached to the wristbands twice around Melissa's bare waist and pulled so hard she yelped.  The ropes loosened a bit when they tied the knot, but they were still tight, and by accident or design the knot dug into her navel.  Melissa's hands were pinned to her back.  Mike had some wire cutters, and he made sure the cable ties were snug before he trimmed off the excess length.

Melissa continued to writhe, struggle, and attempt to assert her authority.

"Chill , Aunt Melissa," Cheryl said.  "We're just playing the Game.  You said you wanted to supervise, so we decided to let you play too.  We know you really want to, but were just too shy to ask."  This speech didn't noticeably reduce Melissa's agitation.

Janet was excited. "Wow, it worked just like we planned.  We're brilliant!"

Cheryl replied, "We have more to do.  Tie her to that tree."

Melissa struggled, but with all of the children pushing she was forced against one of the maple trees and held in place while more rope was wrapped around her body and legs.  Once she was securely fastened the boys performed an impromptu war dance around her trussed-up body.

Cheryl waited a minute or so until there was a lull in the celebration, and then issued more orders.  "Into the house, everybody, and get into your costumes.  Tell Tommy and Emily, too.  Mike, you collect all of the car keys and Melissa's cell phone and hide them in the woods.  Make sure the house is locked up.  Then we'll all meet back here."

"Do you think we should leave a guard?" Janet asked.  "Is it safe to leave her alone while she's gagged?"

"It'll be OK," Cheryl responded, turning to gaze at her helpless, still struggling aunt.  "She can't get loose, and she can breathe around the stick."  The children ran towards the house, eager to begin the new adventure.  Cheryl remained for several seconds, hands on hips, watching Melissa fight her bonds, then turned and ran after the others.

Melissa was angry.  When I get my hands on those little savages , she thought, they'll be very, very sorry.  Think they can capture me, do they?   She  tugged and pulled, trying to separate her hands, but quickly discovered they were solidly locked together.  Might as well be welded to my back, she mused.  OK, I'll need a knife or something, but I know I can get loose from this tree.

There was a smidgen of truth to that.  One long piece of rope fastened her to the tree, and Melissa thrashed and twisted so vigorously that it started to slacken; but this took a lot of energy, and she had to pause to catch her breath.  Damn! she thought.  I wish I could see what I'm doing.   She could detect a glimmer of orange tinted light through the thick cloth covering her eyes (it seemed to be thicker than the cloth covering her lower face), but that didn't help her locate any knots.

It also kept her from seeing Pierre, who left the woods and stealthily approached the tree and its struggling prisoner.  He had planned to release Melissa immediately, but then had second thoughts.  It occurred to him that a damsel-in-distress would probably be a lot more grateful to a rescuer who saved her after she had spent some time as a helpless captive.  Let her 'suffer' for an hour or so, he decided.  Besides, Melissa looks good like that.

The children had looped the rope binding Melissa to the tree through her hobble before tying the final knot.  One of her now dirty bare feet was snubbed tight to the Maple's trunk, but the other was free to the length of the hobble's connecting rope.  Encumbered by several semi-tight bands of rope at her knees and thighs, the long, lithe, tan leg attached to the ankle with limited freedom was thrashing about, causing the ropes to dimple the smooth, well-toned skin of both legs.

Melissa's wrists were obviously inescapably bound to the small of her back, but the rest of the rope wrapped around Melissa and the tree was another story.  As Pierre watched, she gained significant slack for her upper body through her struggles.  Not enough to make good an escape, but enough to make her continuing efforts... interesting.

The ropes alternated between biting her skin and sliding across her smooth, tanned, freckled arms and bare, flat tummy as she twisted and pulled.  Her full breasts bobbed and swayed under the fabric of her blouse, and heaved against the ropes whenever Melissa paused in her struggles, panting as she caught her breath.

The contours of Melissa's face were clearly visible under the bag of natural cotton over the prisoner's head.  The bag wasn't very big to begin with, and was pulled even tighter by the stick cleaving Melissa's mouth.  Pierre leaned closer.  The fabric of the bag was doubled over Melissa's eyes.  They really put some thought and effort into this, Pierre mused.  Cheryl, he decided.  She has to be the ringleader, and she was the one giving most of the orders.   The stick gag was about an inch thick, of seasoned wood, and had been carefully whittled, and possibly sanded.  Two holes were drilled to take the leather thongs tied behind Melissa's head and keeping the stick (and the portion of the bag over her lips) firmly clenched between Melissa's teeth.  There was just a hint of wetness in the cloth around the stick.

Pierre took a silent step back and stood, savoring the sight of the bound beauty struggling before him.  He then glanced towards the house.  I better not let the 'war party' see me, he decided, and faded back into the woods.  No sooner had he reached the sheltering concealment of the trees than his cell phone beeped.  "I timed that right," he mumbled under his breath as he answered the call.  His father needed him back at the farm, at once.  He looked back towards Melissa, who was still struggling to escape.  "Rats!" he muttered.  "Oh well, I'll check back tomorrow.  The little savages will have released her long before then."  He hurried home.
The children returned about a quarter-hour later.  All of them were in their costumes, and the Hurons and Hawkeye were carrying their weapons.  Emily had suspected a joke at her expense when the other children told her that Aunt Melissa was going to be playing the Game, but when she saw Melissa tied to the tree she was convinced.  "Wow!  How did you talk her into playing?  And as a captive, too."

"Oh, we just reasoned with her," Janet said sarcastically, "we were very persuasive."

"Yeah, right! " Emily snorted.  She rarely believed anything her sister told her.

Cheryl clarified the explanation.  "We tied her up while she was asleep.  She's pretty mad, so nobody untie her until I've decided she's cooled off."  The other children all nodded.  Cheryl described the scenario.  "The Hurons are taking Melissa and their other captives back to their village, but that's a long ways off, so they'll have to camp on the trail tonight.  Janet and I will go hide in the woods and you have to try to capture us again, but before we go we'll help you prepare Aunt Melissa for the journey."

Cheryl selected some cotton rope from the large Huron stockpile and used it to tie Melissa's ankles tightly together.  "OK, now untie her from the tree."  Cheryl and Mike held Melissa's arms while Andy unwrapped the rope binding her to the tree trunk.  "Now you put the skirt on her, Janet.  Lift it over her head."

Janet had to stretch, but she got a long, baggy skirt of faded and worn cotton over Melissa's head and fastened it around her waist, over her regular clothes.  The skirt was a powder blue and white plaid with a white waistband and a lace-trimmed white panel in the front that suggested an apron.  It had been overly 'country,' even when new, and had obviously spent significant time in either a rag bag or a trunk in the attic.  It was faded and stained, the hem was ragged, and the right seam was ripped up to Melissa's mid thigh.  The waistband was a little tight (especially over Melissa's cutoffs) but the skirt more or less fit.  Cheryl looked critically at the result. "That looks tacky, but I haven't finished sewing her dress.  At least it's more authentic than the shorts."  Cheryl untied the shirttails of Melissa's white, sleeveless blouse and covered her bare midriff.  "That looks better.  Only loose women showed that much skin back then."

"The white blouse goes with the apron front," Janet noted.  "It looks good."

The boys exchanged bored looks.  "It's a skirt," Mike muttered.  "Let's get on with the program already."

Emily was jumping up and down with excitement.  "Chief, Chief, can I guard the prisoner?"

"Sure, Princess," Mike replied, "if you think you can handle her.  But remember, you can't untie her."

"Or take her gag off!" Cheryl added, knowing Mel would probably be able to talk the Princess into letting her go, if she were able.

"OK, I won't," Emily promised.  "But I'll need a leash for her, and she can't walk anywhere with that bag on her head."

"We can fix that" Mike said, and nodded to Cheryl.  The two of them tripped Melissa and put her on her back.  She tried to get up, but Jeremy, Andy, and Janet sat on various parts of her writhing body and pinned her to the ground.

Cheryl took out the gag and pulled the bag off of Melissa's head.  Melissa worked her jaw for a few moments and then screeched, "This has gone too far!  Free me at once or you're all toast!  I'll— "

Mike had his hand over Melissa's mouth.  He winked at Cheryl.  "Yeah, we better keep her gagged, or she'll scare all the game away, for miles."

"Right," Cheryl agreed, "but this stick needs some help if it's going to keep her quiet."  Cheryl produced a white cotton handkerchief and wrapped it around the stick.  She held the gag near Melissa's mouth.  "Open up, please."

Mike released his hand, but Melissa clamped her lips tight and shook her head.  Cheryl responded by pinching her nose shut.  Melissa held her breath as long as she could, and then managed to gasp a little air before Cheryl could respond; but the next time she tried it Cheryl was ready and shoved the cloth-wrapped stick into her mouth.  Cheryl held it in place until Mike had the thongs tied behind her head.  Melissa was still making noise (mostly variations of the word "Mmmpfh!"), but the volume was significantly reduced.

"She can breath like that," Janet asked with a worried frown, "can't she?"

Cheryl's answer was to pinch her aunt's nostrils shut again.  Angrier than ever, Melissa mewed and moaned past her gag.  The attempts at communication had a slightly more nasal quality, but the volume was more or less the same, and the children could see her forcing air past the cloth in her mouth, and sucking it in as well.  "See?" Cheryl asked, smiling sweetly.  She released Melissa's nose and the prisoner glared at her fourteen-year-old captor.

Mike took a long piece of braided cotton rope and tied one end around Melissa's neck.  He handed the other end of the rope to Emily. "There's your leash, Princess.  Remember, you keep her tied up, and don't take out the gag."

"I heard you the first time," Emily groused, then hastily added, "...Chief."

Cheryl declaimed, "Everyone remember the safety rules.  No slipknots around the neck, no pressure on the throat, and no gags that block breathing if the prisoner is left alone." She inspected the leash.  "That looks OK, Mike."

"Right. That knot's a bowline, and it won't get any tighter."

Cheryl stood up.  "Give me and Janet a five hundred head start and then try to catch us.  Whatever happens, we'll all meet at the campsite no later than sundown."  Melissa moaned when she heard this.  This time of year it was a long time until sundown.

Cheryl, Janet, and Tommy ran into the woods.  The boys waited until Mike, counting in a low mutter, reached five hundred, and then they all followed their quarry, whooping loudly.  In the meantime Emily had untied Melissa's ankles, leaving the hobble in place.  She thought about leaving Melissa's feet bare, but then relented and put her aunt's sandals on her feet.

Emily tugged on the leash.  "On your feet, Paleface.  We have leagues to travel."

Melissa shook her head and stayed seated, her back against one of the maples.

"Aw, come on, Aunt Melissa," Emily whined.  "The Game's no fun if you don't follow the rules, and the rules say that you have to do as you're told when you're tied up.  After all, if you really were a Huron captive you'd be tortured if you didn't obey."

Melissa tried to explain through her gag that she didn't want to play the game.  If Emily understood what was trying to be said, she ignored it.  She tugged on the leash a few more times, but Melissa wouldn't budge.  Then Emily's pixie face lit up like a light bulb.  She circled the tree with the leash and tied the free end to the loop around Melissa's neck.  Then she ran off in the direction of the barn.

Melissa took advantage of this opportunity to try to escape, but she was quickly frustrated.  There weren't any knots within her reach, and the bands circling her wrists were immovable and tight, even though they weren't tight enough to interfere with her circulation.  I can't believe this is happening! she fumed.  I'm a grown woman.  How can a bunch of munchkins immobilize me like this?  She pulled with all of her strength against her restraints, but nothing loosened up.

Emily returned carrying a round cardboard box that had once contained oatmeal.  There were holes punched in the lid.  "My mom once said that you've been afraid of snakes since you were little."  She opened the box and took out a small green snake.  "Meet my friend, Sammy Slither."

Emily thrust the snake at Melissa's face and she squirmed against the rough bark of the tree, whimpering through her gag, her eyes wide.  Emily followed her captives desperate head movements, the snake in her outstretched hand. "Do you want to play by the rules?" Emily asked, "or do I put Sammy inside your shirt?  He's not poisonous, so you won't die like Cleopatra, but he's got sharp teeth."  Emily held Sammy close to her own face.  Melissa watched as the green monster's tongue darted out and brushed against her captor's button nose.  Emily giggled.  "That tickles, Sammy!" she scolded the snake.

Melissa really hated snakes.  She knew it was irrational, but her fear was real and beyond her control.  The thought of Sammy slithering around inside her blouse and over her bra-less breasts made her shudder.  OK, she thought,  I'll play along for a while.  The children will get tired of their little game, and then it'll be my turn.  She scrambled to her feet, pleading through her gag for Emily to put the snake away.

Emily understood her this time.  She smirked and put Sammy back in his box.  "Tommy says Sammy eats insects and slugs and stuff like that, and he'll die if I keep him, so I'm letting him go later... but give me any trouble and I'll let him go right now, down your blouse!"  She untied the end of the leash and gave it a tug.  "Mush, Paleface."

Emily walked towards the woods and Melissa followed, shuffling along and trying not to trip over her hobble or her long skirt.  She was still having trouble coping with what had happened.  She went to sleep in the 21st Century and seemed to have woken up in the 18th.  One thing is real, though, she mused.  Being controlled by a girl half my age is very humiliating.
Cheryl, Janet, and Tommy jogged through the woods.  There were a lot of small to medium-sized trees, but there wasn't too much undergrowth.  The farm had been posted against hunting for many years and the white-tail deer had eaten just about everything they could reach.  There were a few clumps of the original forest, but that was naturally open, with mainly ferns and a few shade-loving wild flowers poking through the carpet of leaf litter that surrounded the big trees.

"Stop, Cheryl," Janet gasped.  "I have to rest.  I'm not a very good runner, and this dress doesn't help."  When Janet stopped panting she glared at her red-haired cousin.  "And another thing about the dress," she complained.  Your's is green, so you can hide, but this yellow makes me stick out like a traffic cone."

"Yeah, I didn't think of that when I made it," Cheryl answered with a smug grin, "but look on the bright side.  It makes you a such a good target that if we split up the Hurons will all go after you and leave me alone."

Janet lifted her skirt and executed a slow, graceful curtsey.  "Thank you for letting me be the human sacrifice.  I rejoice that my suffering will spare you any trace of annoyance, Your Majesty."

"Your devotion is duly noted and appreciated," Cheryl said with a smirk.  "Hey, where's Tommy?"  The girls looked all around, but he wasn't in sight, and neither of them had noticed him leave.

"Here I am."  Tommy spoke from right behind them.  Both girls jumped and spun around.

"Where were you?" Cheryl demanded.  "We looked all around and didn't see a thing."

Tommy pointed at a group of saplings about twenty feet away.  "I was hiding in those trees."

"How could you hide in there?" Janet asked.  "I can see right through to the other side, and none of those little trees are big enough to hide behind."

Tommy shrugged.  "You just have to keep very still and pretend to be a tree."

Janet was baffled. "How do you do that?" she asked.

"I don't know." Tommy shrugged.  "I just do it."

Cheryl was very impressed.  She had asked Mike and the other Hurons to pretend that Tommy was stealthy and invisible in the woods, just to build his confidence, but apparently it wasn't necessary.  She signaled for quiet.  "Listen!"

All three children could hear the war whoops, and they were getting closer.  "We've got to get out of here," Cheryl whispered, "and we'd better split up.   You go that way, Janet, and I'll go this way.  Tommy, you see if you can get behind the Hurons and watch what they're doing.  That way you can rescue us if we get captured."

Janet jogged away.  Cheryl watched her for a few minutes, and when she looked back, Tommy had vanished.  The whooping was getting louder.  She ran toward some large bushes.

The Huron warriors had spread out in a line-abreast formation, staying just close enough together to see each other.  Andy was on the left flank, and he glimpsed a flash of yellow in the woods to his left.  He yelled and ran in pursuit.  Jeremy turned and followed him.  Mike, who was on the far right, stopped and tried to see his brothers, but they were screened by the trees.  He thought a few moments, and then he ran towards the yelling.

Ten feet away Cheryl crouched behind a small bush, her face buried in her hands.  When she heard Mike run off she peeked out, and when he was a ways away she ran in the opposite direction, still crouching, until she was behind some trees.  "Whew," she muttered.  "That was close.  Three more steps and he would have tripped over me.  I'm glad I'm not the one with the yellow dress."

The girl wearing the yellow dress was not so happy.  Janet heard the boys yelling and started to run.  She knew they were much faster than she was, even when she wasn't hampered by a long dress.  She looked around frantically for a place to hide.  "Now I know how the fox feels." she muttered.  "But where's the hollow log when I need it?"

To make matters worse this part of the woods was almost completely clear of undergrowth.  It could have been a city park.  Janet had an idea.  I heard people never look up, she mused.  I hope it's true.  She ran to a maple tree.  It was almost a foot and a half across at its base, but there was an outstretched branch that she could reach when she jumped.  Janet jumped, swung a leg over the branch, and scrambled into the tree.  She climbed as high as she dared and hugged the trunk.

The boys lost sight of Janet when she climbed the tree, and they milled around in confusion.  "She's got to be around her somewhere," Andy complained when Mike arrived, "but she disappeared into thin air."

Mike had glimpsed Janet climbing the tree, and he looked up into the branches until he could see her clinging to the trunk.  He pointed his musket at her.  "There's the little yellow birdie!" he crowed.  "Come down, birdie, or we'll shoot you down."

Janet was defiant.  "What's the matter, you afraid to come up and get me?"

"I don't have to," Mike called.  "You know the rules.  I could shoot you down, so you have to surrender."

"Oh," Janet sighed, OK."  She climbed out of the tree.  Jeremy was waiting with leather thongs, so she held out her hands.

Andy pulled her hands behind her back.  "Not in front.  We know about your gnaw-the-knots trick."  He held Janet's wrists crossed while Jeremy wrapped them with the thongs.

Jeremy used separate thongs for the horizontal and vertical wrappings, and he carefully kept the windings even and snug.  He knew that Janet was slippery and could escape sloppy work.  He finished up with a cinch, and pulled it tight.
Janet winced.  "Ouch, that's tight."  She struggled for a few seconds.  "You've really got me this time."

"Yeah, that'll hold you, English girl."  Jeremy beamed with satisfaction.

Mike tied a leash around Janet's neck and gave it to Jeremy.  "Let's go, braves.  We've got another one to catch."  He looked around.  "I wonder which way she went?"

"She probably went in the opposite direction from this one," Andy said.  Where he pointed was remarkably close to Cheryl's actual path.  The boys started their pursuit.

Jeremy yanked on Janet's leash and started after his brothers.  "Wait!" the captive complained.  "I can't go so fast.  I twisted my ankle."  She limped a few steps and sat down next to a tree.
Jeremy watched impatiently as his brothers got farther away.  "Come on, I want to be in on the chase, not just standing here holding a stupid rope."

"I need to rest my ankle," Cheryl whined, "so you'll have to wait."

"No I won't."  He tied the leash to an overhead branch, then knelt, crossed his cousin's ankles, and bound them together with a thong.  He then produced a red bandana and began folding it into a narrow bandage.  "I'll be back for you later, if I can remember where I left you."

Janet watched nervously as Jeremy tied a big overhand knot in the middle of the bandana.  "No," she pleaded, "don't go!  Please don't leave me here, tied up and alone in the middle of the— "  Jeremy had thrust the knot in Janet's mouth, pulled the bandana tight, and tied a snug square knot behind her head.  The captive writhed and mewed in complaint, piteously tugging on her bound wrists, twisting her bound ankles, and tossing her gagged head, doing her best 'distressed damsel' imitation (which at the moment didn't require much acting.)

Her Huron captor watched this performance with smug satisfaction.  "Sure hope the bears don't get you," he muttered.  Janet batted her blue eyes and tossed her head of tousled blonde locks, all the while continuing her hopeless, futile struggles... and but she was losing her audience.  Jeremy was already sprinting
away into the forest, abandoning his bound and gagged captive 'countless leagues from civilization' and at the mercy of the 'vast, primordial, North American Wilderness.'

Janet waited until he was out of sight , then sighed
through her gag and huffed, blowing aside the long, straight, errant strands of blond hair that had fallen across her face.  Janet then attacked her bonds in earnest.  She squirmed until she had passed her bound hands under her wiggling behind and her arms through her bound ankles.  Now her  wrists were in front of her body.  She pulled down her gag and chuckled, a superior smile on her tan, pretty face.  "Boys are so gullible," she mused, then applied her teeth to the knots.  In a few minutes her hands were free.  She untied the loop around her neck, untied her ankles, and started walking back to the house, the knotted bandana forgotten around her neck.  (Her sprained ankle had miraculously healed itself.)  The escaping captive sighed as she ambled along.  With Melissa playing the game, Janet and Cheryl agreed they would have to take over all the household chores, and now Janet had no excuse not to tackle the lunch dishes and start the laundry.  "I should have let myself stay tied up," she muttered.
Even with her ankles hobbled Melissa didn't have any trouble keeping up with Emily.  The girl dawdled along the trail, stopping frequently to watch a bird or a butterfly.  Sometimes the ten-year-old seemed to almost forget she had her bound and gagged twenty-year-old aunt at the end of a leash.  Finally, they reached the creek, and Emily spent over an hour trying to catch minnows with her hands.  She took her guard duties seriously though, and tied Melissa's leash to a tree before splashing in the creek.

I'm certainly sampling a lot of feelings today, Melissa mused, fright, humiliation, and now boredom.  What comes next?  Pain, probably.

She was right about that.  Her arms and shoulders were protesting their forced immobility, and her wrists were a little sore (the result of her struggles, she had to admit, not the tightness of her rubber-clad bonds); but another source of discomfort was becoming more pressing.  Melissa started to fidget.  I wish I hadn't had that extra glass of tea with lunch, she mused.  The pressure on her bladder increased as time passed, and the tinkling of the creek as it splashed over the rocks only served to increase her awareness.

Finally Emily returned to her captive.  "Time to move on, Paleface."

Melissa tried to explain her need.  The gag made it very difficult, but finally Emily understood.  "Oh, you have to pee."

Melissa nodded vigorously. "OK, stand up," Emily ordered.  Melissa complied, and Emily lifted her skirt, unbuttoned her shorts, and pulled the captive's shorts and panties down to her ankles.  "I better take them all the way off, so I gotta undo the hobble.  You're not going to give me any trouble putting it back on, are you?  You're tethered to the tree, so you can't get away anyhow."

Melissa shook her head and tried to express her need for haste.  Finally, the hobble was off her left ankle, and Emily steadied her as she stepped out of her shorts and panties.  Emily then retied the hobble, before Melissa really knew it was being done.  She mewed through her gag in complaint, but was ignored.  Emily next tucked the front hem of Melissa's skirt under her waist rope and lifted the back so Melissa could hold it.  Melissa wasn't embarrassed by her nudity; all of the girls had been skinny-dipping together, but she wasn't used to urinating out in the open.  But now she didn't have any other options, so she squatted and relieved herself, blushing in embarrassment, being careful not to splash her sandal-clad feet (or her hobble.)

"OK, time to go," Emily announced, then rolled Melissa's panties and shorts into a tight bundle, tied it with one of the thongs Mike had given her ("just in case"), and tucked it under her arm with Sammy's oatmeal box prison.

Melissa nodded towards her missing shorts, mewed through her gag, and stamped her sandal-clad feet.

Emily understood immediately.  "You're going to have to pee again," the grinning youngster explained smugly, "and it's too much trouble to keep taking off your underwear; but I won't lift your skirt when the boys are around, so don't complain."  She tugged on the leash and the walk resumed.

Melissa was in no doubt as to who was in change, and it wasn't her.