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About Deviant Core Member Thomas SilkMale/United States Group :iconbondagemaids: BondageMaids
Bound and ready for service!
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Deviant for 7 Years
9 Month Core Membership
Statistics 530 Deviations 4,299 Comments 449,444 Pageviews

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Angela Morris, PI - The 49 Club - Chapters 7-11 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 4 6
Cover Illustration for Angela Morris - The 49 Club by knottysilkscarf
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Cover Illustration for Angela Morris - The 49 Club :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 20 2
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Angela Morris, PI - The 49 Club - Chapters 1-6 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 12 6
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Conclusion :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 8 7
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 46-49 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 7 6
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A Different Type of Robbery :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 12 6
The Duchess and Natasha - 1960 by knottysilkscarf
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The Duchess and Natasha - 1960 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 42 10
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 43-45 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 6 3
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 39-42 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 8 11
Stacy and Susan In Trouble After the Portrait by knottysilkscarf
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Stacy and Susan In Trouble After the Portrait :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 118 16
Agents Stacy Steward and Susan Harris - 1960 by knottysilkscarf Agents Stacy Steward and Susan Harris - 1960 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 37 10
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 33-38 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 9 6
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 28-32 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 9 7
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 22-27 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 10 8
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 14-21 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 10 8
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Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Chapters 9-13 :iconknottysilkscarf:knottysilkscarf 12 8

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I'm going to add my two cents on your image (and the other one in this series). Clearly, you know what you are doing as far as the tech...

I really like this. You have told a story in one picture. The woman is clearly a high-ranking woman based on her dress and none to happ...

I really like this. It is my type of bondage tells a story and a dramatic one. Things I really like. I like the shading th...

It is always dangerous to write a I never write one when I don't like the artwork. So I really like this art. That doesn'...

In the Epilogue of the Lady Spies and Revenge Affair, something is done by an unidentified villain. Who is the villain? 

13 deviants said The Duchess and Natasha, the Duchess Gang.
12 deviants said The Dragon Lady.
8 deviants said The Agency - the Spy organization that the Lady Spies work for.
6 deviants said An unknown villain.
5 deviants said The Puppet Master and her KGB Unit.
5 deviants said Greta, the Nazi and East German spy .
5 deviants said The women who run the Ranch.
1 deviant said Royce, the Butler, using his female personna.
1 deviant said None of the above.
:iconrob66: has just published one of his weekly interviews in which I was featured.  So, if you are interested in my background and other aspects of my career as a bondage producer, please read the interview.   
Interview with Thomas Silk, KnottySilkScarf
What made you and your late wife decide to create a bondage site? Were you lifestylists before creating the site?

To explain, I need to start from the very beginning.
I've had two fetishes since I was a kid. The first one was silk scarves, particularly square silk scarves that women used to wear as fashion headscarves. That fetish started, and this is a true story, in the late 1950s when I was probably in first grade. The teacher, who had to be in her 20s – perhaps early 20s – played a game with the class called Pin the Tail on the Donkey. It is where you are spun around blindfolded and then you try to pin the tail on the donkey. The teacher used her silk scarf, which she wore almost every day as a headscarf, as the blindfold. I was probably blindfolded for about 30 seconds or less. I don't know if the smell of the scarf was from her perfume or her hairspray or some combination, but it was the most erotic smell I had eve

As some of you know...I have lots of opinions.

I just realized that I hadn't written a journal in nearly a year.  So here is a summary of my views on bondage (and one about headscarves and fashion which has over 17,000 views!)  As of now, there are a total of 38 journals with my thoughts and opinions on bondage.  This is not all of my journals on topics related to bondage...there are some devoted to discussions of specific polls I have conducted, which I have not included here.  As I write write new journals on bondage, I will update this list.

Now some people have disagreed with some of my opinions expressed in my journals.  That is a good thing.  To quote Dennis Miller, These are just my opinions.  I could be wrong.

As always, all my journals are copyright Knotty Silk Scarf Productions...I have to say that even for journals because some person (without any talent apparently) stole something quite a few years ago that I had written for my website and had been on there for many years before they stole it, word for word, for his blog without giving me credit.  It is not only images and videos that pirates steal.

Forget BDSM...I'm Into FBDEIt has bothered me for sometime that Damsel in Distress (DID), Guy in Distress (GID) and Couple in Distress (CID) bondage gets lumped into BDSM as if it is some sort of subset of it.  It isn't!  Okay B is there for bondage, but by association we get lumped into everything else, which is wrong.
What does BDSM stand for?  Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.  But what most people think of when the term BDSM is used is the infliction of pain by someone on to someone else.  This is fine when two or more consenting adults do it.  And that is a major difference with DID (or whatever your flavor of "in Distress" bondage is).  We just watch it.  Unless you are a producer or rigger or model...we just watch.  We don't participate.  Other differences...most of us don't like real pain to be involved in DID scenes.  That leaves out discipline also (except for the occasional spanking video).
Its all about gags...I was having a conversation on DA with another photographer concerning gags.  Yes, I am a gag snob.  What does that mean?  It means that a woman's bondage is not complete unless she is gagged.  
[First, a disclaimer...Whatever adventure our fantasy heriones have, we fully expect them to be rescued or overcome the bad guys and girls.  There is a universal appeal to a woman being held against her will, struggling and awaiting rescue or trying to escape.  It shows up in TV, movies and in literature all the time.  The writers, artists and photographers on DA do an excellent job illustrating various types of fantasy bondage adventures.   These are fantasies, not real life.  No one I know actually wishes such predictments on anyone in real life, unless it is part of fantasy play in a loving relationship.]
Back to gags...why are gags important?   It has been said that communication is
Robbery, Tie-ups, Mouth filling gags, and SexWhat could be better?  A great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  With models Loren Chance, who we have photographed on numerous ocassions, and Chloe Night, a wonderful new addition to our site, we produced a number of stories in both photos and video.  The afternoon was filled with these two ladies struggling in scarves, ropes and pantyhose and forcing each other to...well, you'll just have to see it on our web site.  We highly recommend both models.  All in all, it was a fun day!
For those that say bondage should not involve know...only fully-clothed women tied up and no touching.
First, let me say that many years ago I used to feel that way.  Harmony, before they started doing naked and topless bondage, actually sent a questionaire to their subscribers asking if they wanted nude and topless bondage.  I voted no and I lost...they rightfully did it anyway.  I still love images and drawings of full
Expression and EmotionOne theme you will notice in the images that I have posted is that our heroines, even though they are gagged, express their feelings.  There is communication between our helplessly bound and gagged captives and their captors (usually women).  
The one thing I hate in a TV show or movie or DID photo set or DID video is when the heroine sits there with no emotion at all.  Her gag is so good that she can't even make any noise and she is tied so well that struggling is out of the question.  And worse...her face is blank of emotion.  This happens much too often and then I see comments about how good this damsel is being tied up, just because she is tied up.  Not so good.  [Often it is less the actress that makes a good scene than the director telling her how to play the scene.]  
Being held captive is all about emotion.  The emotion can be anger, frustration, uncertainty, and yes, fear (as non-PC as th
Nancy Drew and Other BooksI've always been curious about Nancy Drew , Trixie Benton (did I get that right?) and other girl detectives.  Although now the teen age girls are involved with vampires, or just school life (sometimes solving mysteries and still getting tied up) in books, for decades (and to some extent today) being a girl detective was very mainstream.  What happened when the girl detective figured out who the bad guys were?  Well, sometimes she ended up bound and gagged.  In some cases, other characters ended up in ropes and gag.  
Now obviously we don't deal with girls or teenagers in our work (although some of the models can make themselves look like teenagers, if we wanted to).  We do have our very sexy Mandy Clue character, an older version of Nancy Drew, who gets into all sorts of sexually explicit bondage on
The actual number of stories in which the teenage girl detectives get tied up is relatively small (compared t
The 12 Stages of Storyline Fetish BondageCopyright 2011 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions
There seems to be 12 stages for everything these days. So I decided to develop the stages of storyline fetish bondage.  This is not a master/slave thing or even role playing by couples.  It certainly does not apply to a video were a woman is tied up and simply struggling.  This is storyline or plot-driven bondage involving a heroine who stumbles on or is the target of some criminal activity or who is tied up by a jealous girfriend or perhaps by the hero for her own good.  Not only does this apply to productions designed to showcase bondage, but also to most TV and movies which have bondage in them.  Whether the producers of these shows and movies intend it or not, their bondage scenes are searched for, evaluated and played over and over.  
The 12 steps are similar in many ways to the steps which would occur in real life situations.
I give a few examples for each step.  The
A Plea for Realistic Gags on TV and the MoviesCopyright 2011 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions
I finally found one of my holy grails on youtube the other day.  It was an episode of The Virginian entitled "A Slight Case of Charity."  The Virginian was a long running TV western in the 1960's (ending in 1971, I believe).  It had 249 episodes and only a couple DID scenes in all that time.  In this episode, Trampas, a popular cowhand, goes to Charity's hotel room and finds another man there.  The man punches Trampas and leaves.  Trampas gets up and finds Charity in the closet bound and gagged.  The bondage was poor.  She was tied with cloth strips at the ankles and hands, which were in front of her.  It looks like she could have easily gotten out of the ties.  She wore an OTM cloth gag, again a white strip of cloth, which she could have pulled off her mouth.  Trampas unties her feet and pulls her up.  He then unties her h
Scarves and BondageI love seeing a woman tied up with scarves.  I particularly love seeing a woman gagged with a scarf.  When I talk about scarves I am referring to silk (or silk-like) scarves.  I prefer square scarves over the oblong or long scarves.  Although any scarf of any material is generally better than no scarf.  My love of scarf bondage isn't because scarves are the most effective bondage material.  [Arguments can be made either way on the effectiveness of scarves.]  It isn't because they can be colorful, although I do like that.  It isn't because it is a softer way to bind a woman.  Suggest that to a woman who has a scarf tightly tied in her mouth and she would disagree.  Others may suggest these as the reason for scarf bondage, but these are not the primary reasons I love scarf bondage.
Scarves are (primarily) a woman's fashion accessory and the only one that is ideally suited for bondage.
Pantyhose/Nylon Stockings and BondageOne of the sexier experiences a man can have is to go out with beautiful a woman (his wife, girlfriend or just a date) all dressed up, her hair done, wearing high heels AND wearing pantyhose or stockings.  Seeing someone like this on the street is also a treat in this age of dressing down and maximizing comfort.  50 years ago it was the norm for a woman to dress up everyday (as it was for a man to wear a suit everyday).   Today, women wearing pantyhose or nylon stockings is almost (not quite) relegated only to fetish status.
There is definitely a segment of the bondage community that loves to see women tied up wearing pantyhose or stockings or tied up with pantyhose or stockings.  There is even a portion of the community that likes to see a woman fully encased in pantyhose.
Pantyhose, of course, are the logical combination of nylon stockings and panties, which eliminates the need for a garter or other way to hold up the hose.  The allure of pantyhose, as with panties, is that when they
Rope and BondageRope or cord is the best bondage material made for securing a heroine.  Now it is not the easiest to apply.  That honor goes to tape.  Rope requires skill and honestly, few people could actually secure someone with rope in real life, particularly a struggling woman, and make it look like the fetish bondage producers do.  But in terms of strength and beauty, there is nothing like rope to secure a heroine.
Certain types of rope or cord are better suited for bondage than other types.  The first characteristic to be considered is the diameter or size of the rope.  Too big and it difficult to use for bondage.  Too small and it may not be strong enough and could cut into the skin.  Also there are different qualities of rope from coarse, which might result in rope burns, to soft rope.  However, if the scene is suppose to be more gritty, coarse rope or cord, such as packaging cord, might be appropriate.  Rope comes in different colors so your heroine's bondage can be color coordinated, if desi
Tape and BondageI have said many times that I am not a fan of the use of tape in bondage.  Having said that, it is a very effective way of restraining someone.  It is perhaps the easiest way of binding someone.  If I was a real criminal today and had to bind someone, I would certainly carry duct tape even though I am not a fan of it.
Tape, like other binding materials, comes in many forms.  Some like duct tape (or duck tape) is very effective and what most people think of when they hear about tape bondage.  Certain types of packing tape is effective, as might be some types of electrical tape or medical tape.  Still some tape, like masking tape or Scotch tape, is mostly useless for bondage.  Some tape looks good, but doesn't have much stick.
My opinions on bondage materials are formed by three good are they appealing are they to look at in fetish videos and on TV/movies...and perhaps an unique test, how personal is the item.  The more personal, the more erotic for me.
Duct tape
Over the Nose GagsI once read a comment by someone that they didn't understand over the nose gags.  That surprised me.  If you have the perfect mouth gag...cloth, tape, ballgag, stuffed or any the heroine can't make a sound through her mouth, she can still make quite a bit of noise through her nose.  Try it, if you don't believe me.  Now most heroines might not think to use their noses to generate noise...and it is noise.  But, if they did, that perfect gag isn't so perfect, is it?
You mostly see over the nose gags in Japanese movies and TV shows.  The Japanese are very logical.  An OTN gag not only minimizes noise coming through the heroine's nose, it also restricts air flow...We NEVER want to put a damsel in a situation where she can not breathe,  So an over the nose gag must be of cloth or something that still allows breathing.  Still, air flow would be restricted with an OTN gag.  That results in less struggling (because she doesn't get enough air to struggle).   As I said, the Japa
Chloroform and BondageHer eyes start to get sleepy.  Her eyes flicker as the sweet smelling, sleep-inducing odor that was soaked into the folded handkerchief takes effect.  With the handkerchief covering her mouth and nose, the young beauty has no choice but to inhale the chloroform.  She is held tight in the grasp of her assailant.  Slowly her eyes close and she slumps to the floor or bed or in the arms of her attacker.  She is now at the mercy of that same assailant.   Will she simply be bound and gagged?  Put on ice, as it were.  Or will she be kidnapped?  Or does her assailant have even darker plans for her?
Drugging or chloroforming the heroine is one of the classic ways to subdue her...the others being by threat of force (with or without a weapon), physically subduing her, knocking her out cold (hitting her without really hurting unrealistic as that is) or by her voluntary submission.  Chloroforming seems to be a very popular way to subdue the heroine.  It shows up in TV and movies all the ti
Non-Adults and BondageThis is, of course, dangerous territory.  Let me be specific.  I am not talking about anything sexual.  I am talking about the use of bondage on non-adults in the course of a mainstream story.  
There are perhaps three age groups in this category: teenagers (13-adult), older children (perhaps 10-12) and young children (under 10 years old).  And for this discussion I am talking about both girls and boys.
Non-adults have been tied up and gagged in stories going back as far as my searches go, both on TV, the movies and in books.  Still there is a great sensitivity to these age groups being tied up so there is perhaps an age appropriate level of bondage.  Mel Gibson's movie "Ransom" had a young boy taped up and that was criticized for being over the top.  One of the soaps (Days of Our Lives??) had a young boy tied and a bandanna tied in his mouth and they were criticized.  These were perhaps too realistic for some people's taste, but made sense for the particular story.
Teenagers are offer
What is IT About Gags???Poll #34 shows that a gag is the most important part of tying up a woman for most (about 40%) of the people responding in the poll.  That is about the total of the next four answers combined.
So what is so important about the gag.  If you are a real criminal, there is little point in tying up a woman if a scream can bring help.  So a gag might be considered a necessity.  But we don't deal with real criminals...we don't want anyone to go through non-consensual bondage in real life.
In stories (books, TV or movies) a gag tells the audience that the captured heroine is just a pawn, usually awaiting release or rescue.  She is there to squirm and struggle (if we are lucky).  Her dialogue is not important to the story...other than to express defiance or fear (which she can do eyes anyway).  Usually, the plot, particularly if she is tied up for a long period, will include a scene where the gag is removed for a while and she is allowed to have a dialog with her captor.  Then the heroine is gag
Handkerchiefs and BondageA subject I haven't covered in my survey of bondage and bondage materials is handkerchiefs.  Unlike scarves, handkerchiefs are rarely used as binding materials because they simply are not big or long enough.  They are gagging material.
Men's handkerchiefs come in a variety of sizes and most sizes can be used both as stuffing and tied in the woman's mouth.  The large handkerchiefs easily being tied in or over a woman's mouth and the small ones are typically just barely large enough to be tied in a woman's mouth.  
For much of the 20th century (at least into the 1960's), most men carried a handkerchief at all times.  There were even companies that provided clean handkerchiefs for men as a service.  In fact, many men carried two handkerchiefs.  One in their back pocket to be used for...well, you know...and the other in the breast pocket of their suit coat for decoration.  [Unlike today where the hanky in the breast pocket might be a fake hanky for decoration only, back in the day, they we
Ballgags and BondageThose of you that have read my journals probably know that I am not a big fan of ballgags.  By ballgags, I am talking about the rubber ball with a strap or cord or scarf running through it that is tied in the mouth.    Ballgags don't have to be made of solid rubber.  A wiffle ball can also be an effective ballgag.  Of course, the ball can be made of almost anything.  [A broader view of ballgags would include a cloth gag with a large knot in it that goes in the mouth.  The knot being the 'ball.']
For those that favor ballgags, there is no better way to gag a heroine.  Secured in the mouth, there is no way to talk and apparently little noise can be made.  Although appearing very secure, ballgags can have the same issues as any gag secured IN the mouth.  How secure the ballgag is depends on how tight the gag is strapped and how big the ball is relative to the heroine's mouth and thus, how deep it goes into her mouth.  Of course, some of the security issues are addressed by adding hardware
Masks and BondageI love masks in fetish bondage.  In particular, I love masks worn by villains, male or female.  Now a mask could be anything ranging from a handkerchief, bandanna or scarf tied over the lower part of the face to ski mask or balaclava to to a nylon stocking or pantyhose over the villain's head to a Halloween mask that covers the entire face.  What makes masks so wonderful is that the heroine immediately knows that she is in trouble.  The villain has announced that he or she is a villain.  No subterfuge, no ruse...just I'm here to rob you, kidnap you or have forced intimacy (thank you Captain Kidnap for that term) and I don't want you to know who I am.
The good news for the heroine is that killers usually don't worry about wearing a mask because witnesses are not typically an issue.
Which masks do I think would be most terrifying to a heroine?  I have two favorites.  One is the nylon stocking or pantyhose over the head.  Not only is it a mask, it distorts the villain's face which would a
The Five Senses and BondageSight, touch, smell, taste and hearing...these are the five senses.  They tell us about our surroundings.  For a bound and gagged heroine, she depends on her senses to aid her in her escape attempts, to calm her natural fears and to simply understand her perilous situation.  However, each of the five senses can also be used against the heroine in one way or another.  And a couple senses can be taken away from the heroine making her even more helpless and terrified.
We often hear that gags are the ultimate form of helplessness because they take away a woman's greatest strength, her power to communicate.  But this isn't really true.  Taking away a woman's sight, a primary sense, is by far the greatest form of helplessness.
Without being able to see, the heroine probably doesn't know where she is.  She may not know what her situation is or how she is bound or how many other captives there might be.  Perhaps the most frightening aspect of being blindfolded is that the heroine probably does
Gloves and BondageOkay, gloves are not really any type of bondage material...unless you consider the rare times when a glove is stuffed in a heroine's mouth to keep her quiet.  And yet gloves are a part of fetish bondage.  They have been since the time of Irving Klaw.  And gloves are a fetish item, themselves, with web sites featuring women wearing gloves.
Now there are lots of gloves worn by both women and men.  They include work gloves, oven gloves...all sorts of gloves.  What we are talking about are gloves worn by women primarily for fashion.  There are three basic lengths of women's gloves.  These include the gloves that cover the wrist, gloves that extend up to the elbow (matinee gloves) and opera gloves that extend past the elbow.
Irving Klaw had underwear-clad beauties with ulta-high heals running around tying gagging, spanking and generally having fun with each other.  They often wore long gloves extending above the elbows or opera gloves.  Irving Klaw knew fetish.
The following is from Wikiped
Villains and BondageI know that for some folks simply seeing a beautiful woman in bondage is enough.  And it is true, bondage in itself is erotic; it can also be a work of art.  In particular, rope work is an art form.  But fetish bondage is also about emotion.  Beautiful rope work can lack emotion without motivation.  And the best motivation in TV, the movies and fetish bondage is an evil villain.   
Bondage is at its best when it is non-consensual.  I am not knocking consensual bondage.  It is what loving couples do even when they are role playing.  But for a voyeur of bondage, and that is what we are when we look at TV, the movies and bondage photos and videos, the emotion is peaked when there is a sense of danger and true sense of being helpless in a dire situation.  That is why even with more than 50 years of television, the bound and gagged heroine is still a popular theme.  And you can not have that sense of danger without a villain.
Villains come in many varieties.  There are the larger than life
Robberies and BondageThe young woman watched the three masked robbers from her vantage point on the floor as they ransacked the house.  The wall safe was open and was now empty because the young woman had been too scared and had given the robbers the combination.  It had all happened so fast when she arrived home.  The two men had bound her in what they called a hogtie.  The woman had stuffed her mouth with a foul tasting cotton handkerchief and had knotted the young woman's own silk scarf over her mouth as a bizarre fashion accessory.  The young woman's attempts to struggle had only caused her skirt to ride up exposing her satin panties and had popped the top button's on her tight fitting silk blouse exposing her bra covering her well-endowed breasts.  Just then the three robbers gathered around the young woman with evil in their eyes and smiles under the handkerchiefs that covered their faces.  "Now, what do we do with this pretty youn Kidnapping and BondageSara was nervous.  She had walked this way to the bus stop more times than she could remember, but now she wished she had driven and paid the outrageous parking fees the downtown garages charged.  She picked up the pace of her walk and the woman behind her seemed to do the same.  Sara had seen the woman a several of the stores she went to.  She was sure that it was the same woman because of the dark blue raincoat, plain white headscarf she wore tied under her chin and the dark sunglasses.  Okay, it was 1958 and a lot of women wore headscarves and sunglasses.  Sara wore them on certain occasions herself.  Still, this woman seemed to be following her.  It could all be innocent, of course.
Sara was relieved to see a car parked on her side of this deserted street with a woman bent over doing something in the backseat of the car.  She was a tall woman wearing a raincoat, a floral silk headscarf and sunglasses.  As Sara approached the car, th
Femdom and BondageFemdom - Female domination
I love strong, smart female villains (and heroines).  Of course, I like them to end up bound and gagged also, perhaps several times in a story.  But I particularly love seeing a woman tie and gag another woman and have her enjoy doing it.  
The stereotypical woman is loving, gentle, caring, trusting, perhaps more likely to be sub-servant than a man and more about resolving conflict than creating it.  A female villain has none of those traits.  She is scheming and ruthless...and yet she is all woman.   No one expects her to be evil and yet she is and she is proud of it.  And she can be just as evil as a guy.   It is this incongruity that makes this type of villain so sexy.
The heroine can step into this role also, but it is not her natural role.  She is forced into it by the situation or by what has been done to her by the villain.  She has to dominate her captor in order to escape.  Unlike the female vill
Emotion and BondageHow long had it been?  The young woman pulled on the cord keeping her in the tight hogtie.  She grunts through her gag, a combination of a man's handkerchief stuffed in her mouth and her own designer silk scarf tied tightly between her lips.  She was terrified when they accosted her and physically forced her into bondage.  She was too terrified to really resist or even think for that matter and they could see the terror on her face.  But now she was simply angry.  Who gave these assholes the right to do this to her?  And that woman tying the rope in her crotch.  What a bitch!  Still the worst thing she did was tie the young woman's own expensive scarf in her mouth.  The scarf will be ruined with lipstick marks and stretched out of shape.  That was a $200 scarf!  The young woman couldn't wait until she got her hands around that woman's throat!  
Just then the woman stood over her with a big smile under the mask that hid he
Drawings and BondageI want to say right up front that I CAN NOT draw and I wish I could.  In fact, it is one of my bucket things that I would like to learn how to do before I die.  My drawings are worse than the worst on DA.  That is why I rarely try to draw anything and I would NEVER share one of my drawings even if I thought it was sort of okay.
By drawings, I am referring to traditional art, not the 3D stuff.  However, see the end for comments on 3D.
I believe that drawings, if they are done well, can have more impact than photos and video.  But this ideal is only rarely met.  Why can drawings have such impact?  Because drawings can depict scenes that would be difficult to reproduce.  This includes locations that a typical bondage production company wouldn't have access to.  This includes bondage ties that might be impossible or difficult for a model to do.  This includes sexual acts that some models might be unwilling to do.  This includes emotion
Cleave Gags and BondageI am sure you are saying to yourself...what else can he say about gags?  To me, gags are what makes fetish bondage erotic.  I don't know why, but they just are.  Perhaps it is the looks that the heroine gives when they know they can't talk.  Perhaps it is the mmmpphhing sound that the heroine makes when gagged, which can sound very sexual.  Perhaps it is eliminating the heroine's greatest strength, her ability to communicate.  Perhaps it is the excitement and frustration of the heroine when rescue is so near if only her gag didn't prevent her from crying out.  It is probably all of these combined.  For me, gags are the most important part of bondage.  Yes, I am a gag snob.
Having enjoyed fetish bondage for more years than I prefer to think about and having produced bondage pictures and videos for about 15 years, I have studied the science of gags and gagging.  So I wanted to comment on different types of gags.  This is about cleave
The Thomas Silk 15-Minute Rule of BondageThere have been a couple of models that have told us about a 15 minute rule...if you are strictly bound and uncomfortable, the producer must release you within 15 minutes (or less) or something like that.  We have no issues with that.  Our bondage, while secure, was rarely so uncomfortable that models complain.  We often had models bound for much longer than 15 minutes.  But there is another 15 minute that I developed.  If your heroine is bound for 15 minutes and can not get free herself or get her gag off, she will never get free or get her gag off (assuming her situation stays the same)!  This is one of the Thomas Silk Rules of Bondage.
What I mean by that is if there is a flaw in the bondage, the heroine will discover it within 15 minutes of struggling or less.  If she can't find a flaw in the bondage, she will remain bound and gagged until her situation changes. Why would she be able to get free or get her gag off after hours of
Blindfolds and BondageOne of the most underrated bondage accessories is the blindfold.  By covering the eyes, a villain can remove one of the essential senses the heroine has...that sense is sight.
Almost anything that can be tied, taped, or secured over the eyes in some manner (like a hood) to blindfold the heroine.  I personally prefer a silk scarf, which will not surprise any of you.  A blindfold can be tied loosely or very tight.  It will not impact the effectiveness of the blindfold, although it might determine how long the blindfold stays in place.  The thickness of the blindfold will determine whether the heroine is in complete darkness, sees shadow or light or perhaps gets a distorted view of what is happening.
Emotionally, a blindfold has to increase the heroine's terror at her situation.  Not being able to see means that see will not know when or where she is about to be touched.  She will not know exactly where her captors are or what they are doing.  Th
Headscarves and FashionCopyright 2013 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

This is the first part of a two part discussion of headscarves.  This first part deals with headscarves and fashion, both today and in the past.  I want to clarify some misconceptions about headscarves.  Whether you like headscarves or not (and I realize a lot of men and women don't like them or think that they shouldn't like them based on today's perceptions), the one thing to remember is that a beautiful woman wearing a fashionable headscarf still looks beautiful.  A FASHION headscarf, one that is NOT worn for religious reasons, can add intrigue, femininity (in colors, patterns and feel) and be functional.  However, if a headscarf is worn badly, like any fashion accessory, it can simply look bad.  
From the sites that I run, most of you know I have an interest in scarves.  Why does a guy care about scarf fashion, specifically headscarf fashion?  Because I grew up at the height of popularity of fashion headscarves.  I have always though
Struggling and Bondage - Part 1
What a turn-on it is when a pretty woman is securely bound, gagged and struggling.  Fighting her bondage and gag even though there is little hope of getting free.  Struggling makes the difference between a boring scene and an exciting one.  There are several types of struggling and they can occur at different times during a story.
1. Capture struggling
Technically, capture struggling occurs prior to the heroine's actual bondage or as she is being bound.  Although she is not restrained with ropes or tape, she is always restrained.  Her captor(s) grab and hold her.  Typically, she is also handgagged.  So she is in bondage even before ropes or tape or other restraint is applied.  Sometimes this can be as little as the heroine being grabbed from behind and dragged away, but the good scenes are much longer.
Chloroform Struggling
There are lots of people who enjoy watching a heroine being grabbed from behin
Struggling and Bondage - Part 2
2. Struggling While Bound and Gagged
It is what a bound and gagged woman is expected to do...struggle against her bondage.  When she doesn't, when she just accepts her fate and doesn't resist, the scene that is produced is simply boring regardless of how she is tied up.  A good bondage scene may contain several different types of struggling during this period of captivity.
Testing Her Bondage
Although this type of struggling doesn't always occur, when it does it happens it happens at the beginning of captivity and it is a slow and methodical type of struggling.  The damsel is literally testing to see how well she is tied and gagged.  Often she simply can't believe that she has been made so helpless so easily.
Vivian sat on the floor of her own walk-in closet.  Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were also tied together.  A handkerchief was packed into her mouth and
Struggling and Bondage - Part 3
3. Escape Struggling or Struggling with Purpose
Isn't the damsel trying to escape anytime she is struggling?  Yes and No.  Of course, she believes that she is trying to escape by struggling, but when a damsel is bound and gagged securely and is by herself, her actual chances of escaping her bonds are reasonably small (see the journal article on my 15 minute rule).  But after a while her struggles may become focused.  She may develop a plan of escape.  That is when she is struggling with purpose or escape struggling.
Struggling to be Heard
One of my favorite types of struggling is when a rescuer is nearby, perhaps searching for the damsel  or perhaps just a bystander, and the damsel tries to alert them to her plight.  The most obvious way to do this is to try to make enough noise through her gag to be heard or to get rid of her gag altogether.
If a gag is properly selected and secured for the location and situatio
What is a Good Gag? An Effective Gag?A while back I had a poll that asked how effective the best gag could be.  I offered the following answers for a woman bound and gagged in a bedroom of a house...
1) You can be right next to the damsel and not hear her whimpers.
2) You can be right outside the door of the room she's in and not hear her mmmmppphh.
3) You can be downstairs (or upstairs) and not hear her cries for help.
4) You won't hear her cries outside the house.
Most people chose 2 or 3, and these are probably the most correct answers.  But it is complicated.  How thick are the walls?  Is the woman tied with her face buried in a thick carpet or blanket or is she tied to a chair where her moans might carry better?  Where is the rescuer relative to the damsel?   How much ambient noise is there?  Etc.
The best a gag can do (without covering her nose) is to reduce the noise the damsel can make below what she can do through her nose.  Try it, a lot of noise can be made
Well, It is Reality...Sort OfThere has been a notable change in TV bondage.  In the past, when a woman was gagged, even with a poor gag, she would remain silent or make faint gagged noises.  We all look at these scenes and cringe.  Yes, we like to see the woman nicely gagged.  That cleave gag, OTM gag or tape gag is better than nothing, but we know that if the director let her scream, it would bring down the house. 
Well, it is time to rejoice bothers and sisters.  Yes, we are approaching the promised land....well, sort of.
Now, in quite a few scenes, they are letting the woman scream through their gag.  And guess what?  The gags aren't very effective.  Sometimes they talk through their gags...real conversations.  Forget gag talk.  They just talk. And yes, tape fans...that goes for taped mouths (without stuffing) also....lots of noise.
Criminal Minds has let their women scream, but not always.  More terror, I suppose.  The Transporter
What is the Definition of Pantyhose Bondage?One of the things that has puzzled me is the definition that some people have of Pantyhose Bondage.  Their definition is that any woman who is wearing pantyhose and who is tied up (with rope, tape, but not tied up with pantyhose) is in pantyhose bondage.  As someone who has actually done REAL pantyhose bondage...a woman tied up and/or gagged with pantyhose...for well over a decade, this just irks the hell out of me.
I recently saw a drawing of a woman wearing a blouse, skirt and pantyhose, tied with rope and tape gagged...nice drawing, but it had the caption pantyhose bondage.  How is a woman tied with rope and tape gagged in pantyhose bondage?  And not rope bondage or even tape bondage?  You wouldn't call it blouse bondage or skirt bondage, would you?  It make NO sense to call it pantyhose bondage.
If I told you that a photo set was scarf bondage and the woman wasn't tied or gagged with scarves, but just was wearing a scarf as a fashion acc
The Best Bondage Photograph I Have Ever Seen
Of course I should have said the best "criminal" bondage photo I have ever seen.  This was posted a long time ago by :iconRoadster1600:.  I have no idea where they got it.  Criminal bondage is what real criminals might use to restrain someone.  It is not a the perfectly tied well-known model with yards of rope wrapped around her body with every rope perfectly placed and a big ballgag in her mouth (with a caption saying something about a robbery).  [Although that is fine for fantasies.]
This picture is no doubt posed, but could have been taken by a real robber who tied up the woman during a crime.  [Hopefully, that is not the case.]  I am guessing that it was taken in the 1960's (or perhaps 1950's).  It is unique in that the bondage is done with one long thin cord at least 12 feet long and perhaps 15 feet long.  It is tied with a half hitch knots, not the commonly used square knot.  The cord
Let's Not Let Facts Get in the Way...ChloroformJenny felt uneasy.  It was a big bedroom, not what she was used to.  She still was reeling from the unexpected news of this inheritance.  She was startled out of her thoughts by the knock at the door.  It was Maggie and Doris the long time maids for the estate, who even at this hour were wearing their maid uniforms.
"We thought you might like some hot chocolate before you retire," Maggie, who was in her 50's said with a smile.
"I appreciate that, perhaps later," Jenny said as she brushed her hair.
"Later won't do, Mistress," Maggie said, "Now we will have to do it the hard way"  
Jenny was startled by the maid's tone.  She put the brush down to look at her.  There was a gun in her hand.  Before Jenny could react, the 26-year old Doris grabbed Jenny from behind with her left hand and clamped a man's handkerchief over her mouth and nose.  The handkerchief smelled sweet.  Jenny instinctively struggled, but Doris had her in a
  • Listening to: Rolling Stones
  • Reading: Bondage Stories on DA
  • Watching: Nothing right now...
  • Eating: Censored
  • Drinking: Also Censored


knottysilkscarf's Profile Picture
Thomas Silk
United States
My profile picture is not of is what I do. I am the producer of Knotty Silk Scarf Productions ( and I specialize in bondage videos, video clips, and photo stories. I also write bondage stories. The focus is on scarf, scarf & rope and pantyhose bondage. I also promote scarf fashion for women.

If you want to chat, send me a note.


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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts. If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction. The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

Chapter 7 – A Routine Job

July, 1953

That evening Angela and Wendy sat in Wendy's car on Maple Street.  Maple Street was not in the best part of town, but this is where the wayward husband had led them.  Their target was a college professor, a professor of chemistry.  He had driven here directly from his last class at the college.  All the two private investigators needed was to confirm that he was meeting a woman.  Getting a picture of the two of them, would be preferable, but confirmation would be sufficient.  The college professor's wife had come to them with the suspicion that her husband was cheating on her.  This was a typical case for Morris and Larson Investigations.

"See Wendy, it was smart of us to turn down that job involving the sex club.  Think of how dangerous it would've been.  Apparently, they actually killed people," Angela said as she tugged on the black headscarf that covered her blond hairdo.  Without the headscarf, Angela's blonde hair was like a beacon in the night, making it difficult to remain inconspicuous in the car.  Wendy had no such problems with her dark brunette hair.

"Well at least that case wouldn't have been as boring as this one," Wendy said as she yawned, "I'm going to go and see if I can get a closer look at what's going on.  This whole thing could be totally innocent.  If it is innocent, I would prefer to be in bed reading a book instead of here."  Wendy quietly got out of the car, grabbed the camera from the back seat, and discreetly walked toward the house where the college professor had entered.  She wished she had brought her sneakers because her heels clicked on the concrete under her feet.  Most times, they end up following a guy to a motel.  Then it is rather easy to confirm that he is cheating and usually they can get a picture to prove it.  But this was different.  They were on a street in the lower-middle class area of town.  This guy could be going to see a friend.

This was a racially mixed part of town.  There were both white and black families, sometimes intermixed.  No doubt the neighborhood was changing.  Usually neighborhoods were either one ethnicity or the other.

There were lights on in the house and in the basement.  Wendy looked for a window that might tell her something about what was going on in the house.  Honestly, she didn't see anyone through the main floor windows.  And then she saw the woman, a black woman.  She was tall and striking in appearance, with hair that had clearly been straightened and styled.  She was wearing a light brown blouse and a dark brown skirt.  Was this the woman that the college professor was seeing?  A white professor and a black woman?  If this was the case, it was more than cheating on his wife.  In the early 1950s, a white man being with a black woman would create quite a scandal.

Then Wendy heard something from the basement and she moved to one of the basement windows.  What she saw confused her for a moment.  It was like there was a chemistry lab in the basement.  The college professor was talking to a large black man, who towered over him.  There was also stacks of cash visible.  This wasn't a science fair project, Wendy realized.  There had been stories in the newspaper about a new synthetic drug that was being peddled on the streets.  Had they just stumbled onto where the stuff was made?  Wendy snapped off some pictures using the 400 ASA film.  Even with that speed, the photo lab that they used would have to push the film given the low light.  It was definitely time for Wendy and Angela to get out of here.

"And what do you think you're doing, Sugar?"  The black woman pointed the gun at Wendy, "I thought I heard something outside.  Didn't know that it would be a white bitch snooping on us.  You some type of cop something, Sugar?"  The woman was dressed as before, but had tied a white silk scarf over her head to mitigate the evening chill.  Wendy realized that Angela couldn't see her from this angle.  She slowly got up with her hands raised.

"I was trailing the college professor because his wife thought that he was cheating on her," Wendy decided to tell the truth, "I can see that is not the case.  I'll leave now and won't bother you again."  Wendy started to back away from the woman.

"Not so fast, Sugar," the black woman moved quickly and grabbed Wendy by the arm, "I think we should have a little chat about what you were really doing here."  The woman put the revolver up to Wendy's head and forced her towards the back of the house.  They went up three stairs onto a porch and then into the back of the house.  They walked inside the small kitchen and then Wendy was forced down the stairs into the basement.

"Who the hell is this bitch?"  The tall black man hissed.

"She says that she was following our college professor to see if he was cheating on his wife," the woman replied in a skeptical voice as she handed the gun to her husband.

"What are you going to do with her?"  the college professor asked in a frightened voice, "She could send us all to jail."

"Look, I'm no threat to you.  I've already forgotten everything I've seen.  I'm just a girl working for living," Wendy pleaded.  The woman had gone to the wall of the basement and grabbed a coil of clothesline.

"We'll figure out what to do with this bitch after we've had a chance to question her more thoroughly.  Right now we have to make sure that she is the only one snooping so Jeanie is going to tie her up nice and tight.  And girly, if you give us a hard time, I'll beat the crap out of you.  Understand?"  the black man said.  And Wendy believed him so when the woman pulled her hands behind her back, Wendy didn't fight being bound.  She was then pushed to the dirt floor of the basement and her ankles were tied.  The woman then cut another length of cord and used it to secure her bound wrists to her bound ankles.

"We had better gag her," the black woman suggested.

"Please, this is all a big misunderstanding.  I promise I'll be quiet," Wendy said.  No one responded directly to her plea.  Instead, the woman clamped a hand over her mouth.  The black man handed his wife a handkerchief from his back pocket.  She took it, shook it out, and force fed it into Wendy's mouth, causing the PI to retch as it was forced behind her teeth.

"Professor would you like to contribute your handkerchief to keep this girly quiet?"  the woman's question was more a demand than a request.  The professor dug in his back pocket and extracted a well used handkerchief, which he handed to the woman.  She unfolded it, refolded it into a triangle, and spun it.  The black woman looped it over Wendy's head and pulled it tight into her mouth.  She pulled the ends behind Wendy's head and knotted them tightly, forcing the rolled up handkerchief deep into Wendy's mouth.  The mouth stuffing, in turn, was pushed further into her mouth.  The handkerchief bit painfully into the corners of Wendy's mouth.

"That should keep the white bitch quiet," the woman said as she pushed Wendy onto her side on the dirt floor, "There is a car I don't recognize down the block.  I think there might be another bitch in it, but it's difficult to tell."

"We had better go check and see if she has a partner.  Bring some of that clothesline and find something that we can used to gag whoever it is," the black man instructed.  His wife cut off a couple lengths cord from the role of clothesline.  She then went past the makeshift drug making lab to where the laundry machine was.  Sorting through a pile of laundry, yet to be washed, the woman pulled out a couple used handkerchiefs and returned to her husband.  The two left the college professor and Wendy in the dank basement.

Wendy had some hope that the college professor would untie her.  Given how nervous he was, he wasn't comfortable with what was happening.  But he just sat down and watched her squirm on the ground.  Her helplessness was obviously turning him on.

Wendy had been testing the cords that bound her and realized that even though this was a simple way to tie up a woman, it was also very effective.  The knots were out of reach and the cords dug deep into her wrists and ankles.  All her squirming did was to hike up her skirt so that the top of her stockings could be seen, with their garters.  She knew that these people had only one choice and that was to kill her and Angela.

She tried to say something through her gag, but that was impossible.  The handkerchief deep in her mouth was blocking her air pipe and made it impossible to say anything intelligible.  The handkerchief tied tightly in her mouth prevented any movement of the gagging wad.  As gags went, this one was both painful and effective.  There was no chance to scream and warn Angela.  Wendy felt like a worm on a hook squirming and knowing her life would soon be over.

Chapter 8 – If This Is a Boring Job…

Angela wondered what was keeping Wendy.  The fact that her partner and friend might be squirming on a dirt floor in a basement, bound and gagged, never crossed her mind.  They had done many of these cheating husband cases and yes, one time they had to run for their lives when the husband came after them screaming blooded murder.  But that was only once and the man was drunk, out of shape, and only half dressed.  They easily outrun him and had gotten the evidence that they needed.  Admittedly, Angela was half asleep at this point.  And then she heard woman's heels approaching the car.

"Well it's about time…" Angela started to say and then she saw the black woman wearing the white headscarf and more importantly, pointing a gun at her.  Angela was seating in the passenger's seat and eyeing the steering wheel horn, but thought better of it.

"Smart girl.  You touch that horn and you are dead.  Your partner is eagerly awaiting your arrival so be a good little white girl and do as you're told, bitch," the woman said to her through the car window.  The woman opened the door to the driver's seat and got in.  A large black man got in the backseat.  The woman handed the gun to him.

"Okay Sugar, turned and face your window and put your hands behind your back," the woman instructed.  Angela did as she was told and felt rough cord being wrapped around her wrists.

"Please, I'm sure there's some sort of mistake.  I'm sure there's some sort of misunderstanding.  I'm mmmppphhh,” Angela pleaded until the woman stuffed one of the dirty handkerchiefs into her mouth and pushed it in place.  She then shook out and folded another handkerchief into a triangle and spun it into a cloth rope.  She looped that over Angela's head and directly into her mouth, pulling the ends back and tightly knotting them over the black silk headscarf Angela was wearing.

"Now that's much better.  White bitches should be seen and not heard," the woman said with a laugh.

"In this case, these white bitches will neither be seen nor heard again ever," the man in the back seat said.  His wife started the car with the car keys, which were already in the ignition.  The car was pulled into the driveway of the house and into the backyard, out of sight.

Angela was pulled out of the car by the black man.  He dragged her toward the back of the house, up onto the porch, and into the kitchen.  He then put her over his shoulder and carried her down to the basement.

"Look what we found loitering in the neighborhood.  Another white bitch snooping around where her nose doesn't belong," the man hissed, "I guess we should take these gags out of their mouths and find out what they're doing here."

"That won't be necessary.  I searched their purses and they are private investigators, like the one bitch told me.  They were probably following the college professor because his wife thinks that he is cheating on her," the black woman said as she came downstairs.

"So you can let them go?"  the college professor said hopefully.

"Afraid not, professor.  If we let them go, they'll go straight to the cops.  No, we're going to have to kill them and dispose of their bodies," the black woman smiled as she tied Angela's ankles and secured them to her bound wrists.  She then pushed Angela onto her side next to Wendy.

"I didn't agree to be involved in murder," the college professor yelled, his eyes darting back and forth between his co-conspirators and the two helpless woman.

"You helped create the poison that we are selling on the streets.  Every time someone overdoses from it, that makes you a murderer already.  Besides, if we don't kill them they will go straight to the police.  Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in jail?"  A large man hissed at him.

"How are you going to get rid of the bodies?  When the police find bodies, they generally figure out who the murderers are," the college professor asked.

"Not to worry.  They'll be buried right here in the basement.  They won't be the first and may not be the last.  No one will ever find them.  Besides, I was intending to put in a concrete floor on this basement," the man replied, "Their car can be taken to my nephew's salvage yard where it can be smashed into scrap metal."

"Now bitches, how would you like to die?  A bullet to the head is nice a quick, but perhaps you would prefer a nice slow strangulation.  I got it, maybe we will bury you alive," the black woman laughed a hearty laugh.  It was obvious that the college professor was getting sick to his stomach.  He ran off to the toilet, probably to throw up.

"This is a chance to get rid of our learned college professor.  We have the formula and everything we need.  He is likely to crack if the police question him," the woman whispered into her husband's ear.  He shook his head in agreement.

"All this excitement, not to mention two pretty white girls squirming at our feet, is get me all hot and bothered," the man whispered back to his wife.

"I told you once, you can't fuck another woman, only me.  But I never said anything about to white bitches giving you a blowjob – as long as they satisfied me as well with their tongues," the man's wife smiled at him.  They hauled Angela and Wendy up to their knees and untied the gags, which was a relief.  The wadded up handkerchief's stuffed deep in their mouths were pulled out and tossed aside onto the dirt floor.

"Why the hell should we do anything for you?  You plan to kill us," Wendy hissed.  The woman slapped her face, back and forth until tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"We ARE going to kill you, ladies, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.  However, this is your last chance to make a good impression.  If you don't do what my wife suggests, we are going to bury you alive.  Your death will be agonizing as you inhale dirt and struggle.  But if you do as we ask, I promise that I'll personally put a bullet in each of your heads.  You'll be dead, but you won't suffer.  The choice is yours," the man explained with a smile.  With that, the man pulled down his pants and his underwear exposing his manhood.  Both Angela and Wendy stared in amazement.  He was impressive, the biggest one either of them had ever seen, although the fact he was about to kill them put a damper on their enthusiasm.  The black woman came up beside him pulled up her skirt, and pulled down her panties.

"Which one you want first, Daddy?" the black woman asked her husband.

"I'll take the blonde bitch," he smiled and the two of them switched places so that Angela was in front of the man and his weapon.  The PI contemplated what to do, but the choice was taken from her as he grabbed her headscarf covered head and pushed his manhood into her mouth.  Still holding her head, he moved his hips back and forth, thrusting his rod like a piston.  Angela involuntarily gagged every time his manhood was pushed deep into her mouth.

Wendy was familiar with satisfying a woman, although this is the first time she had been called upon to satisfy a black woman, not that the color of her skin made any difference whatsoever.  Although, the fact that the woman was criminal, who intended to kill her, did make the act considerably less appealing.  But as she worked the woman's clit, she hoped that perhaps this act of submission would buy them a quick death.

Angela worked the tip of this man's manhood, simply hoping that this humiliation would be over with soon.  Indeed, his weapon grew in size and then exploded into her mouth.  Angela choked on his cum as he continue to pump.  The creamy white liquid overflowed her lips and ran down her chin and onto her blouse.  Finally, he withdrew leaving Angela to try to swallow his cum while gasping for breath.

The man's wife also climaxed, her body tensing up.  She staggered and had to hold onto her husband for support.

Much to Angela's and Wendy's dismay, the two drug dealers switch places.  The man only stayed limp for a few seconds, which certainly surprised Wendy.  He grabbed her head and used it like he had used Angela's.  It was Wendy's turn to gag every time he thrust.  His wife grabbed Angela's head and forced it into her crotch.  Angela obediently tried to satisfy the woman.

After the man and woman had climaxed once again, the woman picked up the wadded up handkerchief's from the dirt floor and handed one to her husband.  She cleaned herself and then she cleaned Wendy's face before stuffing it in Wendy's mouth.  She took the rolled up handkerchief and tied it tightly in Wendy's mouth to secure the gag.  When the man had finished, he handed the handkerchief back to his wife, who performed the same tasks as she had on Wendy.  She shoved both PIs onto their sides on the dirt floor.

About this time, the college professor returned from the toilet.  The large man handed him his shovel.  The college professor gave him a strange look.

"You led these bitches here, you dig their grave," the man hissed at him.  Angela wondered if the man had the upper body strength to dig a grave.

"And you dig their grave deep, real deep," the woman said with a sneer, "and make it fast.  I need my beauty sleep."

The woman and her husband turned and went upstairs.  The private investigators could hear the radio turned on upstairs.  They turned and watched the college professor loosen his tie and begin to dig the grave.

Chapter 9 – A Grave Situation

The college professor had been digging for over an hour and the two PIs had to admit it was taking shape, unfortunately.  Twice the woman had come down to see the progress and had returned upstairs shaking her head.  Of course, what the college professor didn't know was that he was digging his own grave, as well.

Both Angela and Wendy had tried working their bonds, to no avail.  It seemed pointless to try to get the gag off as the chances of anyone hearing them scream at this time of night were pretty slim.  Besides, their gags were quite effective and secure.  The wads in their mouth and become rancid between their own saliva, their captor's cum, and the dirt from the floor of the basement.  The wetness of the gag and traveled from their mouth, back toward their ears, and saliva drooled from her mouths.  The gag bit painfully into the corners of their mouths.  Even the handkerchief knot at the back of their necks had caused a sore spot.  The gag was far from comfortable and it was effective, which was even worse.  All in all, their situation looked pretty hopeless.

Wendy started to grunt through her gag at the college professor.  He got out of the large hole he had dug and went over to the helpless PI.

"You want to tell me something?  Okay.  I'll take the gag out of your mouth for little while, but no screaming.  Those guys are pissed at me as it is because you to follow me," the professor said in a whisper.  Wendy shook her head that she would be quiet.  The man crawled next to her and untied the handkerchief that held the gag in place.  She spit out the handkerchief.

"Thank you.  I have a favor to ask.  Those two forced us to satisfy them sexually while you were out of the room.  It was disgusting.  I don't want to go to my grave thinking what they did to me," Wendy whispered.

"So what you want me to do?  I'm not going to untie you and let you go.  I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in jail," the college professor explained.

"I don't expect you to let us go.  Before I die, I want a real man inside of me.  I haven't had real sex in a long time.  They don't have to know.  Just untie my legs and do me," Wendy whispered.  The man picked up the soaked in wadded handkerchief and stuffed it back into Wendy's mouth.  He retied the other handkerchief, securing her gag.  Wendy thought her gambit had failed, but he got up and went to listen by the stairs and then he came back.  The PIs could see that he was sexually aroused.  Now if there was just enough time before the black woman returned.

The college professor quickly untied Wendy's ankles, which also released her from the hogtie.  He pulled his own pants down and went under her skirt and grabbed hold of her panties.  Wendy helped him by raising her butt off the ground and resting her legs on his shoulders.  When he leaned a little closer, Wendy suddenly tightened her legs around his throat in a vice-like motion.  The college professor, caught off-guard, grunted and gurgled as Wendy tightened her legs.  His hands tried to pry her loose and they pounded against her legs.  The college professor tried to scream, but couldn't.  Wendy continued to apply pressure to his neck with her legs.  All that exercising Wendy was doing was paying off.  In a few seconds, the man, who wanted to be a drug czar, went limp.  Wendy gave a kick to his head with her high heel shoe just to make sure.

Wendy and Angela listened intently.  The radio was still playing upstairs.  There was no sound of alarm or concern from their other captors.  Wendy moved toward the large hole that was supposed to be their graves.  With her back to the hole, she grabbed the handle of the shovel with her bound wrists and pulled it out of the hole.  Wendy sat on the handle of the shovel to steady it, as Angela watched with hope.  Wendy blindly located the edge of the shovel, the part that was used to dig into the hard soil.  It was razor-sharp, apparently it had been sharpened so that it would more easily go through the dirt.  Wendy put her hands on either side of the sharp edge and began to saw.  The only question was – would she get free in time.

Chapter 10 – A Bit of Desperation Always Helps

The black woman had long since taken off the headscarf, which she always wore outside.  She had it draped around her neck.  It occurred to her that it might be fun strangling one or both of these white bitches while they lay helpless on the ground.  She didn't like white people, including the pompous college professor.  Wouldn't he be surprised when he got the business end of the shovel coming down on his head.  She would let her husband do that murder.  He didn't like white people either.  They had needed the college professor to create the nasty stuff they were selling on the street.  She and her husband always got a good laugh when some story about it showed up in a newspaper or on the radio.

The woman was a bit nervous.  Until these white bitches were dead and buried, there was a danger.  As she started to descend the stairs, the woman visualized squeezing the life out of them.  She didn't trust the college professor.  He had been concerned about how many people were overdosing from the product he made.  A white guy with a conscience was not a good thing.  At least they had his formula now so he was expendable.  Her mind flashed back to killing these two women and she felt a tingle in her crotch.  Could killing be a sexual experience, she wondered.

Suddenly, she realized that it was dark in the basement.  Who it turned off the lights?  Her first thought was that the college professor was fucking one of the girls and wanted some privacy.  Her second thought was that something wasn't right.  It was really wrong.  She moved down the steps quicker with the gun in a right hand.  She would shoot all those white people.

The woman was suddenly airborne and she didn't know why.  She was heading face first towards the dirt floor with the wooden steps skimming below her.  But what she hadn't seen was the length of cord secured across one of the steps halfway up the stairs.  She hadn't been looking where she was stepping, but was trying to see what was happening in the basement.  The woman let go of the gun and tried to brace herself for the impact.  She was partially successful, but her head still hit the hard dirt floor, causing her to cry out in pain.  That was the last sounds she made as Angela's stuffed one of the handkerchiefs in her mouth, grabbed her white headscarf from her neck, and wrapped it in her mouth a couple of times before knotting the ends.  Angela looked up to see Wendy wrapping rope around the woman's hands, which had been wrenched behind her back.  In a move that would make any rodeo cowboy proud, Wendy used the same length of cord and wrapped it around the woman's ankles, hogtying her, like a wayward steer.

The two PIs quickly dragged the semi conscious woman to the burial hole and through her in on top of the college professor.  Then they heard the man and the radio being turned off.

"What the fuck is going on?  Honey, you okay?  If anybody hurt you, I'll blast their ass," the man yelled as he approached the stairs to the basement.  He was cautious, unlike his wife.  He tried a light switch at the top of stairs, but nothing happened.  The bulb had been removed so it was pitch black in the basement.  The man disappeared for a moment.  Returning, he had a bright flashlight in his hands.  He called out for his wife again and there was a gagged moan from the burial pit.

"You white bitches are going to pay for this," the man yelled.  There was a bright flash that lit up the basement and the loud sound of a 38 caliber pistol going off in the confined space.  There was only one shot, but it did not come from the man.  In fact, the flashlight showed his surprised expression as he dropped the gun and stumbled down the staircase, only to trip on the trip cord.  He somersaulted down the stairs and landed at the bottom of the stairs, flat on his back, not moving.

An hour later, Angela and Wendy were fielding the second rounds of questions from the local detectives.  It had been Wendy that had wounded the man, figuring that there was no other way to survive.  The man was in critical condition, but would probably live.  His wife was in better condition, but her nose was broken and her face bruised in several locations.  The college professor also survived and was already trying to talk his way out of all the charges he would later plead guilty to.  Instead telling the college professor's wife that he was cheating on her, Angela and Wendy had to tell her that he was responsible for producing illegal drugs and would go to jail for a very long time.  Such was the life of a private investigator.

Chapter 11 – Not a Good Idea

Betty Vernon was wearing a plain white headscarf and dark glasses.  Perhaps that is why neither Angela, nor Wendy, saw her coming.  They were heading for Angela's car in the basement garage of the Winston building when the woman approached them.

"So this is how it is?  You have time and the courage to take down a drug dealer, but no time for a single mom with no money.  The sex club is too dangerous, you said.  You bitches advertise that you look out for the rights of women and yet you are rather selective in who's right to look out for.  If I had money to pay you some absorbent sum, I bet you would look out for my rights also," Betty hissed loudly so that bystanders stopped and looked at her.

"Miss Vernon, we said was that even if he found the man, it would be difficult to prove that he was the father.  Blood typing can only exclude him.  Without positive proof, he would just deny it and there will be nothing we or a court of law could do.  Yes, there is some concern about the methods of The 49 Club.  And for the record, last night we thought we were chasing after a cheating husband.  Stumbling on to the drug dealers, nearly got us killed.  We were very lucky to survive," Angela said in a calm voice.

"I can positively identify the bastard.  I wasn't blindfolded when he used me.  He has a very distinctive mark or tattoo in a very personal place.  But why am I telling you this, you're just cowards," Betty Vernon turned on one heel and stomped away before anything else could be said.  Angela and Wendy looked at each other.

"We're going to look into this, aren't we?"  Angela said with in a whisper, shaking her head.  Wendy nodded her agreement.

"Not a good idea," Angela said, but she knew they were going to investigate The 49 Club.

To Be Continued...

Angela Morris, PI - The 49 Club - Chapters 7-11
The 3rd book of the Angela Morris, PI series has Private Investigators Angela and Wendy Larson investigating The 49 Club, a sex club that uses extreme measures to satisfy its wealthy and powerful members.  

Chapter 7 - Angela and Wendy track a cheating husband or so they think.
Chapter 8 - The PIs spend some quality time with some dangerous strangers.
Chapter 9 - The PIs are in a grave situation.
Chapter 10 - Someone gets shot.
Chapter 11 - Angela and Wendy are told-off by a potential client.

So if you want lots of bondage, sex, chloroformed women, KOs - read Angela Morris - The 49 Club.

Cover Illustration by the remarkable :iconmileshendon:  A version without the text will be published on his page.
Cover Illustration for Angela Morris - The 49 Club
The wonderful art of :iconmileshendon: depicting a scene from chapter 5 of Angela Morris, PI - The 49 Club. 
You can find a version without the text - Betty

Betty is the abducted college student on the cross.

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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts. If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction. The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

Chapter 1 – The Collection

September, 1952

Eunice Green was excited, sexually excited.  She always got this way when she was about to do a collection.  She was collecting the subject for tonight's meeting of the 49 Club.  Other people would call it an abduction, but in the club's vernacular, it was a collection.  What made it exciting was that it was performed on a busy street and the subject of collection was a healthy young woman, fully capable of defending herself.  She was physically fit and had taken self-defense classes.  Of course, Eunice's plan eliminated any chance of the young woman defending herself.  Eunice had done this many times before.  The first advantage she had was that she was a woman.  The second advantage that she had was that she was dressed as a nun.  The third advantage that she had was her sister waiting in the limo and her brother driving the limo.  So it was really three against one, if it came to that.  Usually it didn't.  Usually Eunice and her sister, Beatrice, could easily subdue the women they needed to.  On rare occasions, Bill, Eunice's brother, would would intervene with a handkerchief soaked in chloroform, but only if the situation seemed to be getting out of control.  The simple fact was that once the young woman was targeted for collection, her fate was sealed.  None had ever escaped.

The target of Eunice's collection was a 21-year-old college student by the name of Betty Vernon.  She was 5'6" tall in heels, of slender build and a good sized bosom.  Her blonde hair was short and was held off of her face by a hair band.  She rarely had the need of wearing a headscarf with that hairdo, Eunice concluded.  She would get to wear one today, Eunice smiled, whether she wanted to or not.  The girl was well-dressed for a college student, a nice white silk blouse and a blue cotton skirt extended well below her knees.  She was appropriately conservative for the time.  She also had on white cotton gloves, which many women wore these days.  Eunice also had on cotton gloves, but her gloves were black.

Eunice was quickly closing the distance between her and Betty.  They had done trial runs of this before, just to be prepared.  People are so predictable, often down to the minute, as to when they will be at particular places.  Betty was no exception.  She was a creature of habit.  Eunice had been within a couple feet of her on several occasions and her target was totally unaware.  Eunice did this in advance of all her collections.  Of course, she only wore the nuns habit on the day of the collection.  At other times, she hid her appearance wearing different, brightly colored headscarves and dark glasses.  These dry runs, which included bumping into Betty once, allowed Eunice to judge her reactions.  How quickly would it take her to figure out what was happening?  But the other reason to do these dry runs, was that Eunice found them exciting.

Then she was right behind the young woman.  She had to wait for the exact moment that Betty was next to the limo.  Why use the limo?  Because people equate the limo with wealthy people, not to abductions.  It was roomy inside, making it easier to subdue the woman being collected.  Besides, most of the windows of the limo were tinted.  It was possible to see in, but only with great difficulty.  Also, the target was unlikely to sense danger until it was too late.

"Excuse me, Miss.  Could I borrow you for second to help us?" Eunice said while gently grabbing Betty's right arm.  The young woman turned with a scowl on her face, which turned to smile when she saw the nun.

"How can I help you, Sister?"  Betty said with a cheerful smile.  The passenger door of the limo opened.

"If you could just show us where we are on the map, it would be most helpful," Eunice directed Betty toward the open door.  Betty bent down to look at the map and Eunice gave her a shove into the limo.  Going in, Betty lost her shoe as her legs were pushed inside.  Eunice smoothly picked up her shoe and forced her way into the limo, closing the door behind her.  Even though there were people walking on the street, no one noticed the young woman's abduction.  The door of the limo and Eunice herself made it all but impossible for an onlooker to see what was really happening.  The limo quickly pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.

Chapter 2 – The Collected

Betty Vernon had been totally preoccupied with her thoughts, unaware of her surroundings.  Her thoughts mostly involved school work, what was going to happen for the weekend, and other mundane, but important to her, issues.  When the nun grabbed her arm, she didn't immediately hear what they nun was saying.  Apparently, the nun and her party were lost.  How could she say no to a nun.  The woman wanted her to look at a map and show them where they were.  She leaned into the back of what appeared to be a limo.  It was dark inside, but she could see the shadow of a woman.  The first thing that emerged from the shadow was the woman's mostly white silk headscarf, wrapped under her chin and tied in back, which had a brightly colored floral pattern on it.  The second thing that she noticed was the woman's face, it was distorted.  She was wearing some sort of fancy mask.  It was at that moment that Betty sensed danger.

Of course, it was too late.  Betty felt a strong push from behind.  She was being thrown into the limo.  Betty opened her mouth to scream and the woman with the mask clamped a hand over her mouth and grabbed the back of her head, holding her like a vice.  Betty felt her legs being pushed into the limo as she squirmed and tried to claw the arms that were holding her tight.  The door to limo closed and Betty felt the other woman, the nun, on the other side of her.  Everyone jerked as the limo pulled away from the curb and accelerated.

Betty, bewildered by what was happening, still thought that this must've been some sort of joke.  But the two women seemed to be quite serious about what they were doing.  Betty felt the nun pulling her arms behind her back.  The headscarved woman pushed Betty's head against the seat back.  One of her hands continued to be clamped over Betty's mouth, but her other hand helped hold Betty's hands in place while the nun secured a silk headscarf around her wrists.  The scarf was soft, but tight around her hands.  She tried to slip out of the silk bindings, but the ligature was secure.

The woman, whose hand was clamped over Betty's mouth, allowed it to slip down under her chin.  Her fingers and thumb squeezed Betty's cheeks hard.  Betty's mouth popped open like a flower opening up.  The woman wearing the mask showed Betty the wadded up handkerchief before she slowly pushed it into Betty's mouth.  The woman was smiling, clearly enjoying what she was doing to Betty.  Betty retched as the handkerchief was pushed fully into her mouth.  From behind Betty, the nun flipped a large white silk scarf over Betty's head.  Positioning it over her mouth, she pulled the ends back and tied it tightly at the back of her neck, trapping the stifling wad in Betty's mouth.  She then tied the remaining ends in a bow.

The masked woman produced a large silk scarf folded into a triangle.  Betty, like many women, enjoyed fashion and she realized that the scarf was quite expensive.  It had a large red boarder and its interior consisted of red flowers with some white areas.  She immediately knew the scarf was from France.  The masked woman flipped the scarf over Betty's head as a headscarf, wrapped the ends under her chin and them off over the apex of the scarf at the back of Betty's head.  What was the headscarf for, Betty wondered.  Then she realized that the brightly colored scarf would help to obscure the fact that she was gagged.  If someone did realize she was in danger, it would be impossible to describe Betty to the police with the scarf obscuring her head and a gag covering her mouth.

The nun was tying Betty's ankles together with another scarf.  The last touch was some sort of mask that was put over Betty's face.  Much to Betty's surprise, she could see through the mask.  There had been no attempt to blindfold her.

Although she had been manhandled, bound and gagged, Betty had not been harmed.  The soft scarves binding her and gagging her didn't hurt, even though they were tightly tied.  The headscarf was also tightly tied on her head, but was otherwise soft.  If one was to be abducted, which was apparently happening to Betty, the use of silk scarves as binding material was certainly considerate.  She noticed for the first time as she squirmed, that there was hint of perfume on the scarf gagging her and also the one tied over her head.  They were very feminine smells.

Betty tried to figure out what was going on.  The nun was clearly not a nun.  The woman was wearing a disguise, a clever one.  Who would expect a nun to be a criminal, someone who abducts people.  The nun's accomplice was also disguised.  The headscarf she wore hid her hair from sight and the mask hid her face.  Betty knew that she couldn't identify either woman, assuming that she lived through this experience.  The one thing she did know was that these two women had done this before, they weren't amateurs.  For some reason, Betty felt the need to fight her bindings.  Perhaps it was a natural reaction, the desire to get free.  Instinctively, she knew that she wouldn't get free and even if she did, she would be quickly subdued.  Now the question was, what was coming next?

"Now, Miss Vernon – now that we have you nicely wrapped up in soft silk scarves – we will prepare you for tonight's festivities.  We apologize for the gag, but an ill-timed scream could cause us problems.  The headscarf and mask probably aren't necessary given the tinted windows of the limo, but we see no reason to take chances.  Besides most girls like to wear a silk headscarf and the ones that we used on you are of the finest quality.  I'm sure you're wondering why you haven't been blindfolded.  Not to worry, I'm going to give you a little something that will disorient you," the woman wearing the mask told her.  With that she produced a syringe and held it up for Betty to see.  Betty started to struggle violently, but the nun held her, wrapping her arms around her, holding her left arm steady.  The woman with the syringe, found a vein, rubbed an alcohol pad over the selected spot, and stuck the needle of the syringe into her arm.  The needle stung as it entered and Betty could feel whatever was in the syringe being forced into her body.

At first, Betty didn't notice anything.  But within 30 seconds, her vision seem to distort.  It was both fuzzy and the colors were greatly enhanced.  Buildings, cars and even people seemed unreal.  The two women who had kidnapped her seemed to have huge smiles going from one ear to the other.  The eyes and nose of the nun seemed to be huge.  The colors on the other woman's headscarf were blazing at her, as if the flowers depicted on it were real, extending out of the scarf and almost touching her.  The woman's mask seemed extremely large, as did her nose, but her red lips were tiny.  Everything changed as she moved her head.  Her lips would grow larger and her mask smaller.  The flowers in the woman's headscarf appeared to be ready to attack her.  Betty turned back to the nun and her face was still distorted.  The man driving the limo turned around and his face looked like the devil's face.  When any of them spoke, their voices were distorted, the volume increased, and their words garbled.  She must be going crazy, Betty thought.  And then it hit her – an intense feeling in her crotch.  Suddenly, she was horny – that wasn't even a term that proper young woman used.  But what else could she call it?  She desperately wanted someone to satisfy her, to make the feeling go away.  It was as if she was in heat, like a cat.  Betty screamed into her gag, but no one heard her except her abductors and they just laughed, enjoying her distress.

Chapter 3 – Preparation

It seemed like forever for the limo to reach its destination.  In truth, the limo did take an indirect route to their destination.  Eunice and Beatrice felt the need to confuse the young college student, just in case she was trying to remember where they were taking her.  It wasn't necessary, of course.  Betty was so disoriented by the drug and the sisters constant touching of her hypersensitive body that she had no idea even what direction she was being taken.

A short distance from their destination, Betty's mask was removed and a black silk headscarf was tied over her eyes.  It was important that she not recognize the building from the outside.  Being drugged as she was, it was unlikely that their target would have the slightest clue of where they had taken her, but a blindfold was a simple precaution that eliminated that possibility.

The limo pulled around to the back of the building.  Eunice knew that they had been lucky when they found this particular building for sale.  It was a church.  Well, it had been a church.  The congregation had outgrown this particular church to such an extent that a much larger church had been built about a mile away on a much larger piece of property.  This particular church was purchased from the Catholic Church by a shell corporation of a shell corporation of another shell corporation.  Ultimately, the new owners were the owners of the 49 Club.  But, of course, the Catholic Church did not know that when they sold it and the Catholic Church would have had no way of knowing what the 49 Club was anyway.  Everything of religious significance had been removed from the church prior to the sale.  There had also been a religious ceremony to 'decommission' the church.  As far as most people knew, the old church was simply used for the occasional event.  The fact that the occasional event was sexually charged was unknown to everybody, except members of the 49 Club.

Betty's bound body was carried over Bill's shoulder into the church, now the club, via the back entrance.  She was taken to a preparation room, as Eunice called it.  Even in her drugged state, Betty was terrified.  Once inside the room, her blindfold was removed.  There was nothing special about the room.  It looked more like a bedroom then in office.  There was a bed in the corner and also a desk with a wooden chair.  A cabinet with a padlock on it was next to the desk.  There were no windows in the room, only a single light fixture overhead.  There was a tile floor with an area rug over much of it.  Betty was placed on the bed and Eunice pulled the wooden chair next to the bed.

"Betty dear, I know that your mind is fuzzy because of the drug we gave you and you are incredibly sexually stimulated at this moment.  I need you to listen and learn, however.  Over the next few hours, you will be sexually used by the richest people in the county.  There is nothing you can do to prevent this and you will be compensated monetarily for the use of your body.  So, it is our wish that you enjoy the evening.  However, if you misbehave or perform badly, you will be punished.  Do you understand?"  Eunice explained, "Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a man or woman?"  Betty shook her head 'no.'  Beatrice took the scarf off Betty's ankles, spread her legs, and examined her lady sex.

"Our information was correct.  She is a virgin," Beatrice smiled.

"Excellent!  She will bring an excellent price," Eunice acknowledged the good news.

"Betty, have you ever given oral sex to a man or woman?"  Beatrice asked.  Betty shook her head.

"Betty, you have pleasured yourself, yes?"  Eunice asked the helpless young woman.  Betty indicated that she had pleasured herself.

"Excellent.  You know what spots on a woman's body are sensitive.  You have no doubt manipulate them with your fingers.  All you have to do is exactly that another woman, but this time you will be using your lips and tongue to give her pleasure," Eunice explained.  Betty shook her head violently.  Eunice slapped her face with her gloved hand.  A hard enough slap to sting, but not to bruise.  Betty stared at her.

"Betty dear, none of this is consensual.  That is why you were abducted off of the street.  Powerful men and women are going to use you tonight.  You will be humiliated and forced to perform these and other sexual acts with multiple partners.  If you resist or cause problems, you may not survive the evening.  Do you understand?"  Beatrice hissed.  Tears flowed from Betty's eyes.

Beatrice pulled Betty off the bed and onto her knees in front of Eunice.  The expensive red patterned headscarf was untied and pulled away from Betty's head.  The masked woman pulled the tightly bound white scarf off of her mouth and allowed Betty to force the wadded up handkerchief out.  The handkerchief rolled off Betty's left breast, onto her lap, and finally onto the rug.  If Betty had any thoughts of screaming, they were quickly dashed as Eunice pulled up her nun's tunic, pulled down her panties, and Betty's face was rammed into the woman's crotch.  She felt the woman's heat and could smell her lady sex.  Unlike most women, Eunice had actually shaved her pubic hair.  When Betty tentatively stuck out her tongue and licked, two things happened.  The first, Betty thought she was going to throw up tasting the woman's sexual flavor, but the second was an immediate reaction from the woman towering over her.  It didn't take long for the college student to figure out how to satisfy this bitch of a woman.  If she hadn't been bound and surrounded by the woman's cohorts, Betty pictured herself as easily strangling the woman for forcing her to do this.  Instead, she quickly learned how to get the biggest reactions and where her efforts were most effective and appreciated.  Her biggest surprise came when Eunice climaxed and had to be steadied by Beatrice.  But Betty was not given a reprieve, almost immediately the woman wearing the headscarf and mask had her skirt up and pulled down her panties.  By now Betty knew what was expected of her and she did as requested.  She kept telling herself she had to do it in order to survive.

After Beatrice had been satisfied, it was Bill's turn.  Honestly, Betty had never been with a man either and had never given a man what they called a 'blowjob'.  But this one wasn't very hard to figure out.  His manhood was hard and stuck right in front of her face.  She had a momentary thought of biting it and doing damage, but realized that such an action might get her killed.  Betty had no doubt that he would ram it in her mouth if she didn't willingly accept it.   She did just that and it felt more natural to her then did working on a woman, but it was still disgusting.  While she used her tongue to caress his hard member, particularly the tip, the man did most of the work, moving it like a piston in her mouth.  He came quickly flooding her mouth with his disgusting cum, which he urged her to swallow, for reasons that puzzled her.  She did her best, but gagged and almost threw up.

"I think she's ready now for the final preparations," Eunice said, smiling.  Beatrice took a sponge and cleaned up Betty's face, even cleaning out her mouth.  Eunice left the room as Beatrice administered mouthwash and sprayed Betty lavishly with an expensive perfume, which almost made the captive retch again.  Betty's mouth was packed with a clean handkerchief, and the white scarf was tightly tied over her lower face.  Her skirt was pulled up and her panties were pulled down.  Betty's legs were untied and Bill held her by the ankles as Beatrice gave her a douche and cleaned her lady sex.  Couldn't have powerful men and women playing with the woman's crotch, if it smelled bad.  Bill tied her ankles again with the scarf.

It was then that Betty met the first winner in her auction.  It was a man, a short rotund man, wearing some idiotic mask, as if he was at a masquerade party.  He was clearly excited, which was obvious from his nervous shaking and the hard-on he had.  Lord, I hope they are not all like this guy, Betty thought.  He was carrying a wooden sign, a delicately carved rod with a rounded flat top.  Painted on the heavily lacquered sign, was the number 43.  As Betty would soon learn the lower the number, the wealthier and more powerful individual was.  This guy was lucky to get to do anything, she realized.  But what he had won was the honor of disrobing tonight's attraction, down to her bra, panties, and stockings.  He was closely supervised by Beatrice and Bill.  Number 43's shaky hands undid her belt, unbuttoned her blouse, and took off her shoes.  He was almost embarrassed when his hands brushed against her breasts.   Bill untied Betty's wrists long enough for her blouse to be removed.  It was important that her clothes, at least her blouse and skirt, not be damaged or stained.  Betty would be wearing them when she was returned.  Her panties, however, would be auctioned off later.  For now, she got to keep those.

When number 43 had finished, he was ushered out of the small room.  Those few minutes undressing Betty had cost him $500 and it was the least expensive thing that could be purchased.

Eunice returned wearing a flowing purple gown, which was semi transparent, and didn't leave much to the imagination.  She was also wearing yellow and green headscarf with purple flowers on it wrapped under her chin, and knotted at the back of her neck.  A mask covered her face.

"I think our star attraction needs them more colorful gag.  Let's gag her with the red and white headscarf we allowed her to wear on the way in," Eunice suggested.

"That's a rather expensive scarf to be used as a gag, don't you think?"  Beatrice looked surprised behind her mask.

"The young lady deserves it.  Besides, we will be able to buy several hundred scarves of that quality with the money she makes for us tonight," Eunice said as she untied the white scarf gag and replaced it with the thicker, more expensive mostly red silk scarf.  From Betty's point of view, what she was gagged with meant nothing.  She was still gagged, unable to voice her objections or opinions or to scream for help.  For her captors, having her gagged was simply practical.  It was extremely unlikely that anyone would hear her cries outside of the building, but the gag did eliminate the possibility of Betty using unladylike language when she was used.  Besides, the audience loved to hear the sounds a gagged captive made.  There was something sexually stimulating about those muffled, incoherent noises.

"You are almost ready for the main act, Betty.  First we have to give you a little more of that drug, just to make sure you are at your best," Eunice said as Beatrice grabbed her arm and prepared for the injection.  Betty was still strongly under the influence of the first shot of the hallucinogen.  But when the second dose took affect, the entire world seemed even stranger, with psychedelic colors and everything being distorted.

Betty was carried to a stage, behind a thick curtain.  She could hear the murmurings of a crowd of people beyond the curtain.  In front of her seemed to be a ferris wheel, but without any carts to carry people.  Her vision was fuzzy and distorted.  The colors around her were dripping with saturation.  Betty didn't understand the ferris wheel until her bonds were removed and she was turned around, pinned against it, her hands and feet tied spreadeagle with silk scarves to planks that crisscrossed the wooden circle.  She was actually tied off the ground, which put significant strain on her limbs.

"Good luck, honey," Eunice said with a smile and a laugh.

Chapter 4 – The 49 Club

It was called the 49 club because it was formed in 1949 and there was a maximum of 49 members.  Actually, that wasn't quite true because Eunice, Beatrice, and Bill were not counted.  Also, there were two honorary members, one in law enforcement and the other at the highest levels of city government.  The honorary members did not pay dues and were allowed certain complementary sexual favors.  Their job was to make sure that the club was never investigated or if there was an investigation, that it would be stymied or buried or otherwise put to rest without details of what the club did coming to light.

The club was started by Eunice, her siblings and a couple other people when she was asked by a friend to procure a call girl for a very influential and rich man.  One procurement became another procurement.  One client became another client.  It became obvious very quickly that these men didn't want professionals, but wanted regular girls and they wanted non-consensual sex with terrified women.  Of course, the woman had to be beautiful and young, with great bodies and a strong sex drive.  The ultimate find, of course, was the mythical virgin, that these men truly desired.  To deflower or pop the cherry on such a young woman was considered to be the ultimate thrill.  However, even in the early 1950s, most young women lost their virginity to eager your young boys well before they entered the cross hairs of the 49 Club, which wanted to stay under the radar of the authorities.  The 49 Club felt they could get away with abducting women in their early 20s as long as they were not physically harmed, but abducting teenagers was likely to be reported.  Of course, the 49 Club wasn't concerned at all about any mental anguish that their actions might produce.  Frankly, too much money was involved.  These girls were not considered of any important to worry about.  They were commodities and the 49 Club was simply the store at which they were sold, more correctly, the services of their bodies were sold.

Chapter 5 – The Show

When the thick curtain was raised, Betty believed that she was in a cathedral, the largest one she'd ever seen.  In reality, while the ceilings were high and the walls were the ornamental, it was only what remained of a modest Catholic Church.  It was to drugs that gave her the vision of a cathedral.

There were people.  Strange people.  They were all wearing costumes or at least, something to obscure their heads and faces.  They were mostly men, but some were clearly women, perhaps as much as 20% of the audience were women.  They wore masks too.  Their hairdos were hidden by colorful silk scarves, which made them easy to spot among the men.  Much to Betty surprise, the women looked as excited as the men, as the crowd pressed near the stage to get a good look at tonight's entertainment.

Eunice stepped behind the podium and surveyed the crowd, "Members, welcome all.  We have a most exciting program tonight.  A young college student, a virgin, has offered her services for our entertainment pleasure.  Perhaps the term offered is a bit misleading.  She is being forced to provide her services to our elite members."  There were hoots, hollers and laughter from the crowd.  This only increased as Eunice grabbed a long feathered stick, went over to Betty and brushed it over her heaving breasts, causing her to arch her body away from the cross that she was bound to.  The feathered stick was rubbed up and down her legs.  Eunice concentrated on Betty's crotch.  Even with her panties on, Betty could feel the stimulation and squirmed under the attention.  The crowd was almost had a frenzied pitch.  Eunice walked back to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen – and I use that term loosely because none of us are ladies or gentlemen.  Before we can indulge ourselves, there is a matter of unfortunate business that we must handle.  This club only works when our members uphold their oath to secrecy.  Unfortunately one of our members, Number 49 fell badly behind on his dues and other payments.  As you know, we try to work these problems out with our members," Eunice said and then motioned to Beatrice, who moved toward Betty.  From the back of the auditorium, Betty saw a woman being dragged towards the stage by the man who had helped kidnap Betty and whom Betty had been forced to service.  The hapless woman was bound with ropes, with her hands tied behind her back.  Her blouse was open, exposing her bra.  One of her breasts was exposed.  She was perhaps 40 years old and had clearly put up quite a fight.  She was wearing a plain white headscarf tied under her chin, which must've been put on her by a man.  She didn't wear a mask, but her face was mostly covered with a large patterned handkerchief, which bulged where her mouth was.  Something large had been forced into her mouth to keep her quiet and all that could be heard were whimpers coming from her.  Her eyes darted around the room in terror.

Behind her, two men in masks dragged another man.  He was also bound, but was silk scarves.  There was a large knotted silk scarf in his mouth, holding in place a wadded up handkerchief.  He wore a mask, but his balding head was clearly visible.  Stuck in his belt was his bidding paddle with a number 49 on it.

"It's best that you not see this or hear this," Beatrice said to Betty as she tied a black silk scarf over her eyes.  She put putty in Betty's ears causing sounds to become indistinguishable and muted.  Beatrice did this quickly and didn't realized that the putty in Betty's right ear became dislodged when Betty shook her head.  Betty couldn't see, but she could hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down.  This is a very serious matter.  When the wife of Number 49 became aware of his situation and his debt, she went to the police, but was thwarted by one of our honorary members.  Not being deterred, she threatened to go to the press.  It was at this time that we knew that we needed to act to protect our organization.  We do not like to take such actions, but all members must understand that they must pay their debts to the organization and they, and their families, must maintain the oath of secrecy that they swore to protect.  Number 49 and his wife have violated his oath to our organization.  Unfortunately, the wife of Number 49 has left us no choice, but to take extreme action," Eunice hissed at the crowd.

Bill dragged the woman onto the stage and forced her face up onto the wooden table, with her legs hanging off the table.  She was squirming and fighting and trying to kick him.  He slapped her hard and slapped her again and again until she stopped fighting.  He went under her skirt and pulled down her panties over her torn stockings.  Bill pulled down his pants and exposed his hard manhood.  He rammed it into her.  This was punishment, not pleasure for her.  The audience was silent, transfixed with what was happening on stage.

Her husband was forced to watch from a short distance away as his wife was used in an efficient and mechanical way.   As he continued to pump, Beatrice wrapped a scarf, owned by Number 49's wife, around the woman's neck and pulled.  A surprise expression came over the woman as she realized that she was being murdered.  Her eyes looked around for someone to save her, but no one was going to help her.  She felt Bill come in her.  She wanted to tell them that she wouldn't cause any trouble, that she would be good, that she would go back to being the meek wife that they had expected.  Beatrice, Bill, and Eunice didn't care.  A message had to be sent that disobedience would not be tolerated.  The woman couldn't breathe as Beatrice slowly tightened the scarf.  She tried to talk through her gag, but they had stuffed two large handkerchiefs in her mouth, held in place with the other handkerchief tied around her face.  She shook her head, her eyes pleading for mercy, but there was no mercy.  Her husband was squirming and crying through his gag.  Finally, after a couple of minutes the woman's body went slack and her dead eyes stared out at the audience.

"Number 49, you have literally caused the death of your wife.  You will be accused of her murder, but not to worry, you feel so bad for what you've done, you have decided to take your own life.  A murder-suicide," Eunice said in a serious voice.  Number 49 squirmed as one of the honorary members holding him took out a small caliber pistol.  His hands were untied and his right hand was brought up.  The pistol was forced into his hand.  The man fought with all his might, but he was out of shape and no match for the man forcing his right hand, which now held the gun up to his temple.  Number 49 begged through his gagged mouth to no avail.  Not only would he be dead, but he would be blamed for his wife's murder.  He felt the cold metal of the gun's barrel touched the side of his head and then he felt nothing as the bullet entered his brain.  There was a soft pop and a small cloud of smoke when the gun went off.  A little stream of blood trickled out the hole in the head of the former Number 49.  

The three men took the dead bodies off the stage.  The murder-suicide would be staged at Number 49's home.  Before they had been brought to  their executions, the man and wife had been forced to sign over their belongings to the Club.  No one would know that the Club got their belongings.  It would appear that Number 49 and his wife had given everything to charity at their death.  The Club would recoup most of its losses and perhaps even make a profit.  The Club was now short one member and would carefully recruit to fill out their ranks.

After the corpses had cleared the stage, the somber audience began to focus their attention on Betty's body, which was very much alive.  Beatrice removed the black scarf from Betty's eyes and ear plug from her left ear.  She also noticed that the right ear plug had fallen out, but it made little difference.  Eunice took the feather again and began caressing Betty's body, much to Betty's dismay.  The crowd noise began to reach a fevered pitch as they urged Eunice and Beatrice to begin the bidding.  It was as if the murders, that had happened minutes ago, were part of some other world reality, nothing to do with them.  There was no sense of shock or outrage.  The cries to start the bidding increased further.  The two women knew just how long to keep the crowd agitated.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to start the bidding.  We have a virgin – a real virgin – for your sexual pleasure.  We expect to get top dollar for your opportunity to spend 10 minutes with her and to fuck her brains out and probably your own.  The top bidder will have first crack at her and without a condom.  The next five highest bidders will get their chance, but you guys will have to use condoms.  Not to worry ladies, if you want to fuck her, you may bid, but remember we will bid on oral sex shortly," Eunice said into a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now bidding on the first offering of the night, fucking the young lady," Beatrice said into another handheld microphone, "Do I hear a bid of 500?  How about 1000?  Let's try for 2000.  3000?"  The bidding took no longer than five minutes to complete.

"Number 3, you win our first offering at a record price of $10,000.  Congratulations!  Please arrange payment with the man at the side of the auditorium," Eunice said.  Other auctions went on for another 20 minutes.  Everything from breast fondling to oral sex was auctioned off, as were Betty's panties.  The club member, who won Betty's panties, came on stage and cut them off of her.  Those satin panties were expensive.  The auction price was $500.

A thin curtain came down on the stage and a back light lit up the curtain from the back of the stage.  The cross that Betty was bound to was lowered onto soft padding on the floor.  Number 3 went behind the curtain.  The audience could see his shadow as he removed his pants.  They could see his manhood.  They could see Betty squirming, still tied to the cross.  They could hear her moan through her gag.  They could see him enter the helpless college student and pound her back and forth.  Finally, they both cried out as they both came.  The audience cheered.  And they also cheered the next four men that took her.

After the first hour of sexual acts, it was like an assembly line.  Betty was maneuvered into the proper positions to be used in every way conceivable.  She was taken from behind by two masked guys.  She was forced to give oral sex to three women and seven men.  Four men and one woman roughly fondled her breasts to the point that they were pink and extremely sensitive.  One woman won the right to tickle Betty for 10 minutes.  Two men and a woman took turns spanking her bottom with their bare hands.

Finally, the crowd was gone.  There was no more cheering, no more masked men and women waiting to use her body in one way or another.  The drug she had been given had mostly worn off.  Betty was no longer bound to the wooden cross, but she was still bound with silk scarves, her hands behind her back and her knees and ankles.  A scarf secured her bound wrists to her bound ankles, making it all, but impossible to move.  Her mouth still had a vile, soaked handkerchief preventing her from making any noise.  The handkerchief had the cum of many men and a few women on it.  The bright red and white silk scarf was still tied tightly over her mouth, but it was stained with her own lipstick and other unidentified spots.  She was still prisoner.  Her mind raced.  What were they going to do with her now?  Kill her?  At this point, Betty didn't really care if she lived or died.  The woman with the bright yellow and green headscarf and see-through gown came up and sat beside her on the bed.

"Betty dear, you make more money for us tonight then we have ever been made on one of these evenings.  You should be proud and you survived without any noticeable bruises.  In a few hours, you'll be back home and you can put this all behind you.  There is no point in going to the cops because we have some members who would make sure that anything you told them was discredited.  If you choose to become a problem for us, we can simply make you disappear and that would be most unfortunate.  My advice to you, and to every other girl who has been a guest of ours, go home and forget about what is happened.  One more thing to do, I need to put you to sleep for a while.  Please don't resist, although it is fun when the girls fight the chloroform," Eunice said as she poured liquid onto a folded handkerchief.  Betty stared at her, watching her every move.

With her mouth stuffed, it was only necessary to put the linen handkerchief over her nose.  At first, Betty did nothing, but breathe normally.  She never understood why, but suddenly she began to fight.  What right did these people have to do this to her?  They were probably going to kill her.  Betty struggled and tried to dislodge the cloth over her nose.  From behind the woman's mask, Betty could see that she was smiling.  She was having fun at Betty's expense.  She had made money off of Betty's body and she obviously expected to get away with it.  Anger built up.  What right did this bitch have to put her through something like this?  Her anger simply made her breathe more deeply and she began to feel the effects of the chloroform.  Her limbs began to feel like rubber and it was difficult to keep her eyes open.  Her struggles became less and less until finally it was only her eyes that were fighting the drug.  She stared at the woman or at least at her mask.  Then her view of the world flickered as her eyes fluttered, turned black and white, turned color again, turned black-and-white as her eyelids closed and her mind went blank.

Chapter 6 – The Aftermath

July, 1953

Angela Morris and Wendy Larson sat at the conference table in Angela's office at Morris and Larson Investigations in the Winston Building.  The newly engaged Patsy Brown, their receptionist, also sat at the table taking notes.  Across from them was Mrs. Betty Vernon.  She was in her early 20s, but it was difficult to tell much else about her.  She wore an expensive silk headscarf, one with a red boarder and red flowers on a cream background.  The dark sunglasses hid the upper half of her face.  Only her bright red lips were clearly visible.

It was not unusual for women who wanted to hire private investigators to hide their identity from the rest of the world.  More than half the women that came to the office wore a headscarf and dark glasses.  It seemed to make them more secure that their secret would not be revealed.

The young woman had described what happened to her at the sex club, including her abduction.  The entire episode was horrific to the PIs and the receptionist.

"What you've described is horrible, but I don't see how we can help you.  This sounds like a police matter," Angela said in a soothing voice.

"Please, Mrs. Morris and Miss Larson, let me finish the story and then you will understand," Betty pleaded and the PIs indicated that she should continue, "The next morning I woke up on a park bench.  I wasn't bound or gagged or anything.  Other than the fact that I didn't have panties, I was dressed the same way as I had been when I was abducted.  Well, that isn't totally true.  The headscarf I am wearing today was tied over my head as a headscarf.  I almost never have worn headscarves, today is an exception.  This is the same scarf that had been used to gag me."  Betty untied the headscarf and pulled it off of her blonde hair.  She showed the lipstick and other stains that were on the side of the scarf that didn't show the way she was wearing it.

"Besides being sore, I seem to be otherwise unharmed when I woke up.  Someone had redressed me and as you can imagine, the clothes didn't seem to be quite right.  My bra didn't seem to fit properly.  It was then that I found the money, stuffed into one of my bra cups.  $1000!  The bastards had paid me for my services.  Don't misunderstand, I needed the money.  Still, it was insulting.  But that is not why am here.  I don't care about the stupid sex club.  I don't even care about the murders.  It wasn't long before I found out I was pregnant.  A couple months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful little boy," Betty said with a smile on her face.

"Mrs. Vernon, I still…" Angela started to speak.

"Miss Vernon.  I had to go away to have the baby and when I came back, I pretended to be married to avoid the stigma of being a single mom.  I wear the ring and tell people that my husband is over in Korea," Betty explained.

"Miss Vernon, what do you want us to do?"  Wendy asked her directly.

"I don't care about the sex club or the murders or even what they did to me.  I want you to find out who Number 3 is.  Who is the father of my baby?  He is obviously an important person and well-off.  He should pay for the upbringing of my child," Betty said.

To Be Continued...

Angela Morris, PI - The 49 Club - Chapters 1-6
The 3rd book of the Angela Morris, PI series has Private Investigators Angela and Wendy Larson investigating The 49 Club, a sex club that uses extreme measures to satisfy its wealthy and powerful members.  

Chapter 1 - Eunice gets ready for a collection.
Chapter 2 - Betty gets taken for a ride
Chapter 3 - Betty is prepared for her big night. 
Chapter 4 - The 49 Club
Chapter 5 - Showtime -a night of murder and sex.
Chapter 6 - An unexpected consequence.

So if you want lots of bondage, sex, chloroformed women, KOs - read Angela Morris - The 49 Club.

Cover Illustration by the remarkable :iconmileshendon:  A version without the text will be published on his page.
In the Epilogue of the Lady Spies and Revenge Affair, something is done by an unidentified villain. Who is the villain?
13 deviants said The Duchess and Natasha, the Duchess Gang.
12 deviants said The Dragon Lady.
8 deviants said The Agency - the Spy organization that the Lady Spies work for.
6 deviants said An unknown villain.
5 deviants said The Puppet Master and her KGB Unit.
5 deviants said Greta, the Nazi and East German spy .
5 deviants said The women who run the Ranch.
1 deviant said Royce, the Butler, using his female personna.
1 deviant said None of the above.

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This story is a fetish bondage story, which includes both consensual and non-consensual sexual acts. If such things bother you, please don't read it.  It is tongue-in-cheek fiction. The author would not wish these things to happen to anyone, male or female, in real life.

Thomas Silk

Copyright 2018 Knotty Silk Scarf Productions

It was January, 1962 at the height of the Cold War...

Chapter 50 – Showdown

Somewhere in the Sahara desert

Stacy Stewart sat in the car at the small airplane landing strip in the middle of nowhere.  The airstrip was mostly used by smugglers and other criminal types.  For them, it was possible to see any type of law enforcement coming for miles.  The one disadvantage was that the sand continually obscured the runway and periodically had to be bulldozed out the way.  Who maintained the runway was a complete mystery.  But it was minimally maintained.

Stacy continually checked her passengers in her car.  Next to her was the Duchess, still in her prison uniform.  The Duchess had not said a word since she was brought to the directoress' office.  That was in large part because there was a rather large ballgag in her mouth, held in place with a harness with a tiny padlock securing it.  The Duchess still had her standard hairdo, with bangs in front and long hair in the back.  She looked longingly at Stacy, her eyes pleading that Stacy remove the gag.  Unfortunately, Stacy didn't have the key and she wouldn't remove the gag anyway.  The Duchess had a hypnotic voice and Stacy knew that she was susceptible.  No, it was best if the Duchess remain gagged.

Stacy also did not have the keys for the industrial sized handcuffs that pinned her hands to the small of her back.  These cuffs were secured to a leather belt that went around her midsection.  Stacy had secured the Duchess' feet with a length of cord.  Even though she was no threat, Stacy continued to hold her gun on the Duchess.

Stacy almost felt sorry for the Directoress.  She had no choice but to keep her hostage until the exchange was made.  Once away from the prison, Stacy had used the radio that Natasha had given her and had made the call that would released the hostages at the estate.  Well, perhaps released wasn't technically accurate.  The two women and the young man would stay tightly bound and gagged until they were found, Stacy knew.  Natasha assured her that the hostages were secured and not harmed.  The call allowed Natasha and her gang to leave the estate so the exchange could be made.  It was unclear where they went.  But they were all supposed to meet at the airfield two hours later.

Stacy had taken the opportunity, at that stop, to tie Abigail Honeycutts' hands behind her back and to secure her ankles.  The directoress had chosen to wear a colorful silk headscarf, which she often did, because of the desert winds.  Much to the objections of Abigail, Stacy untied the scarf, rolled it up, put a big knot in the center, and gagged the directoress with it.  It was not that Stacy feared that the woman would scream or alert someone to her predicament, she was just tired of hearing the woman talk, trying to convince her to return the Duchess to the prison and to surrender herself as an inmate.  The scarf gag worked quite well to silence the woman, who finally realized that no amount of talking was going to change Stacy's mind.

Stacy had parked the car, as per Natasha's instructions, at the midpoint of the runway.  It wasn't long before Stacy and the others heard the aircraft.  It made several circles around the airfield.  Stacy got out of the car and went to the passenger side and pulled the Duchess out, so those in the airplane could see her.

The airplane prepared to make its landing.  It was an old DC-3 twin prop cargo plane.  It touched down at the end of the runway and came to a stop near where Stacy and the others were waiting.  It turned around and taxied to the end of the runway and then turned around again.  The plane was in position to take off again, it's engines continued to run.  The back door of the aircraft opened, in all, five women got out.  One of them, Susan, was in a wheelchair.  Three of the others were wearing niqābs and the fourth was wearing her brightly colored veil.  Stacy recognized three out of the four.  The fourth woman was unknown to Stacy, but Natasha had said that she was another captive.

Susan pulled Abigail Honeycutt from the back of the car and took the keys to the Duchess' handcuffs and gag from a chain around her neck.  She went and put the keys into the Duchess' hands.  She walked the Duchess out to the runway.  A signal was given by Natasha waving her arms.

"Well Duchess, I would wish you well, but I don't.  I doubt that we will ever see each other again.  At best I will be on the run for the rest of my life and at worst, I'll be caught and sent to the hell hole prison you came from, once again.  Your freedom has already cost me my life so I hope you burn in hell," Stacy hissed at her.  With a shove in the back, the Duchess began walking towards the airplane, as the wheelchair carrying Susan was pushed towards Stacy.  Stacy with her gun out and her headscarf whipping in the wind, watched the procession in both directions very carefully.  She didn't trust Natasha and she doubted that Natasha trusted her.  But so far, everything was going according to plan.

When the wheelchair rolled up next to her, Stacy could see that Susan had been drugged.  Her eyes were half closed, although there was a hint of recognition in those eyes.  Stacy's hands had been tied to the armrests of the wheelchair.  A well used silk scarf was bound tightly over her mouth and Stacy assumed, that her mouth was stuffed.  Damn, Natasha.

Stacy turned her attention to the woman pushing the wheelchair.  Her hands were bound to the wheelchair handles that were used to push the wheelchair.  Stacy lifted the top of the niqāb and saw that the woman was gagged with a handkerchief tied over her mouth.  No doubt, there was stuffing in her mouth as well.  She checked under the woman's tunic for weapons or anything else.  The woman was stark naked underneath.  Stacy indicated that the wheelchair should be rolled off the runway towards the car.  She looked back at the Duchess and her group.  No weapons were pointed at them.  They were relieving the Duchess of her bindings and gag.  Some of the group had already gotten in the airplane.

Susan was more awake now and she urgently wanted to tell Stacy something.  Stacy peeled the scarf off of Susan's mouth and Susan spit out the soaked, wadded up handkerchief.  Susan managed to get out one word, "Bomb!"

"Damn you, Natasha," Stacy hissed as she looked under the seat of the wheelchair and saw the device, hidden by blankets and the wheels of the wheelchair.  At that moment, the aircraft roared past them on the runway, gaining altitude quickly.  They would circle once or twice and then detonate the bomb.  At least, that is what Stacy would do.  There was no point in running, even those that could.  The Directoress, tied as she was, began to run away.  Looking at the bomb, Stacy realized that with the amount of plastic explosives under the wheelchair, the blast would kill or maim everyone within 200 feet.  There was no place to hide.

Stacy studied the maze of wires and realized that she would just have to pull one and pray.  In spy school, they were given a half-day lesson on defusing bombs.  That class was boring to Stacy, much to her dismay now.  In fact, she got rather low marks in the class.  She looked at the plane, it was turning to come back.  Stacy had a matter of seconds.  If she pulled the wrong wire, she would blow them all up.  She looked at the knees of wires again.  She had to pick one.

Up in the plane, the Duchess and Natasha were in a loving embrace.  They kissed with a ferocity that only intimate lovers could ever realize.  Natasha pulled away and produced a small metal box with an antenna and a button on it.

"You do the honors, my love," Natasha said with a big smile.

"We should do the honors together, my wonderful Natasha," the Duchess smiled back.  Both woman put their thumbs on the red button.

"Three, two, one…" The two women said in unison as they looked out the window and pushed the button, "BOOM."  They looked at Stacy looking up at them, not knowing what had happened.

"Maybe I should have left them a real bomb," Natasha said with a smile.

"We will meet Stacy Stewart and Susan Harris again and our revenge will be much more personal when we do.  It was sufficient to let them know that we could have killed them and chose not to," the Duchess replied as Natasha began to remove her lover's clothes.  The flight to Europe would be sufficiently long to start to get reacquainted after the Duchess' long absence.  The other members of the Duchess gang knew to give the lovers their privacy.

Chapter 51 – The Sad Goodbye

Stacy and Susan watched the plane fly overhead and then turn northward.  Stacy looked at the bomb again.  It was a fake.  Natasha was sending a message that she could have killed them, if the Duchess and she had wanted to.  Bombs were not their MO.  If they were going to kill someone, it would be up close and personal.

Stacy untied Susan, but did not attempt to untie the Directoress or the young woman in the niqāb, who was still tied to the wheelchair.  Stacy's hands were all over her partner and Susan was responding.  She kissed Susan on the lips and their tongues intertwined.  The last time that happened was in Argentina and Susan had gone out and damn near got herself killed.  Stacy looked up and saw the cars in the distance.

"Susan my love, I'm sorry, but I have to leave you.  It is unlikely that we will never meet again.  In my efforts to get you returned safely, I have violated lots of laws and Agency regulations.  It was the only way to bring you home, but now I must run for my life.  I cannot allow myself to be sent back to that hellhole of a prison and that is exactly what will happen if I stay here with you.  So please forgive me, my love," Stacy kissed Susan on the lips again and then on the forehead.  Tears were rolling down both of their cheeks.

"Be safe, my love," Susan said.

Stacy ran to the car, knowing if she stayed any longer, she wouldn't have the ability to leave, both emotionally and physically.  As much as she loved Susan, she could not allow herself to be put back in prison.  She started the car, put it in gear, and raced in the opposite direction from the oncoming cars.

Five minutes later, a car and an ambulance pulled into the small airstrip.  It had been an educated guess by the man in the corner office that the airstrip would be the logical exchange point.  The hunch had obviously paid off, although apparently a little late.  Babs, Doris, and Asim piled out of the car and raced to where Susan was.  Doris began untying the Directoress while Asim began untying the young woman in the niqāb.

"Susan, where is Stacy?  Where she going?"  Babs said as he leaned over Susan, "We can still catch her, Susan."  Susan looked at Babs and shrugged her shoulders.  Then she hung her head and sobbed.

"Directoress, do you know where she went?  What direction?"  Doris asked.  Surprisingly, Abigail Honeycutt just shook her head when her gag was removed.  She should've pointed the agents in the correct direction, but she had never seen any one person go to such lengths to save another.

Everyone was looking at Asim, who was hugging the person in the niqāb.  It turned out to be Asim's sister, who would been taken hostage by the Duchess gang to force Asim to work for.them.

Chapter 52 – Status Report

Washington, DC

A few weeks later, Babs, Doris, and Lori were seated in the corner office of their boss.  He, of course, paced on his side of the desk, which was his common practice when bringing agents up to date.  All three agents knew that their missions had been mostly successful, except for the loss of the Duchess, which was a major setback.

"I wanted to bring you up-to-date on Agent Susan Harris.  The doctors did manage to stabilize her condition.  However, she has a difficult choice to make.  She can stay in a wheelchair for the rest of her life and the Agency will take care of her.  Or she can have the bullet removed.  If she has the operation, there is a 20% chance that she will walk again, a 30% chance that she will remain paralyzed, and a 50% chance that she will lose her life on the table.  Staying in the wheelchair also has its risks.  Unless she is very careful, the doctors fear that the bullet may shift its position and put her in constant agony," the man said shaking his head, "Such a shift in position might make the situation inoperable.  Regardless of how you look at it, the prognosis for Susan Harris is not good.

"Any word on Stacy Stewart?"  Lori interjected.  

"Not to leave this room.  We think we know where former Agent Stacy Steward currently is hiding.  We believe that she fled to Italy," the man said.

"When do we go after her?" the women said in unison.

"I know that all of you feel betrayed by what Stacy Stewart did.  Remember, that she did what she did to save her friend and former partner, Susan Harris.  If you go after her and capture her, she will spend the rest of her life in that prison from hell in the middle of the desert.  And there would be nothing I could do this time to get her released.  Is that what you really want for a fellow agent?"

"I guess not, Sir," Lori said in a hushed voice.  The others agreed.

"I've been trying to figure out a way to bring her in from the cold without having to send her to prison.  But such a solution would require the approval of the President.  I'm still working on this," the man said.

"Oh, and that Egyptian girl, Asim, has agreed to work with us in Egypt.  We might even train her to become an agent someday," the man said with a half smile.


Frascati, Italy – March, 1962

Stacy Stewart, who went by an Italian name now, got off the bus from Roma in the plaza of the small town, located 20 km southeast of Roma.  Since the events in Egypt, Stacy had improved her Italian immensely, including developing an Italian accent.  She had let her hair grow out and had dyed it jet black.  All in all, she had settled in nicely.  She was a secretary for a developer in Roma.  And although she had to avoid using her fighting skills when the Italian men would decide to cop a feel or to pinch her butt, she enjoyed flirting with the men.  She was beginning to feel like a real woman again and not the top female agent of the Agency.

Her escape from Egypt was harrowing.  Stacy had managed to hide out in Cairo and to extract money from an Agency account in a local bank, before it was frozen.  She had purchased a forged Italian passport.  She had seen Lori, Babs, Doris, and some Egyptian girl looking for her.  It took all of her skills to avoid them.  She was happy that her fellow agents had not been harmed or killed because of her actions.  Stacy booked passage on a freighter that had gone to Naples.  From there she had hitchhiked to the north.

Stacy had done her best to cover her tracks and was pleased that she might be able to blend in and disappear from the world of spies.  She had no doubt that the Agency could find her if they had the motivation to do so.  But they would be looking to recapture the Duchess and Stacy hoped that they would ignore her.

Stacy walked up the cobblestone street where she had rented a studio apartment.  It was more of an alley than the street, large enough to accommodate one small car.  As for the apartment, secretaries don't make that much money in Italy or anyplace else.  Stacy was dressed in her business attire.  A gray cotton skirt that extended down below her knees, a longsleeved, white cotton blouse and white cotton gloves.  Her heels clattered as she walked on the cobblestones.  These days, whenever she went out for any reason, Stacy wore a silk headscarf.  She had a collection of brightly colored headscarves, mostly with floral patterns on them.  A headscarf was an easy way for a woman to disguise her identity and a brightly colored scarf distracted an onlooker from noticing facial features.  Of course, it was unlikely to fool a trained agent, but fugitives often got caught by making simple mistakes or being recognized by somebody other than a trained agent.  Stacy had always liked wearing scarves anyway.

It had turned into a warm day for March so Stacy had taken off the light jacket she had been wearing and held it in one arm, along with her purse.  She was in a particularly good mood today because her boss a given her a raise.  Admittedly, it was a small raise, but it was a raise.  Perhaps that's why she didn't pay attention to the two well-dressed women walking toward her or the woman walking behind her.  The two in front of her were well dressed, including wearing large silk headscarves – one light blue and the other a floral affair, dark glasses, and gloves.  Unlike Stacy, the ends and apex of their headscarves were tucked into a raincoat.  Like Stacy, they looked like typical office workers.  It was curious that they were not caring purses, like most women did.  The woman behind her, also looked like an office worker.  She was just wearing a blouse and skirt combination with gloves, sunglasses, and a white silk headscarf tied under the chin, which fluttered in the breeze, much like Stacy's headscarf did.  Stacy thought nothing of it as the two women in front of her split and allowed her to go in between them.

They were professional women, but not of the type that Stacy thought they were.  Each woman grabbed one of her arms twisting it behind her back.  Her jacket and purse flew out of her hands.  Any chance Stacy had to scream was ended by a blow to her stomach, causing her to double over, gasping for breath.  Her open mouth allowed a wadded up handkerchief to be stuffed in without any resistance.  A chloroform soaked handkerchief was forced over her lower face.  The woman walking behind her took off her silk headscarf and quickly folded it.  The chloroform handkerchief was removed long enough for the scarf to be secured over her mouth, trapping the wad inside.  The woman, who had been following Stacy, bent down and secured her ankles with cord from her purse.  Stacy was losing her battle with the chloroform.  It sapped her strength.   The two women who had initially grabbed her, forced her hands together and  the trailing womon used cord to tie Stacy's hands behind her back.

A car backed into the narrow alley and the boot of the car popped open.  The two women holding Stacy dragged her to the back of the car, with her bound feet scraping the cobblestones.  One of her high heel shoes fell off.  The trailing woman picked up Stacy's purse, jacket, and shoe.  One of the women holding Stacy, bent down and grabbed her feet.  Stacy was lifted into the boot of the car and her bound feet were bent back toward her bound hands.  The other woman came up and tossed Stacy's shoe in the boot of the car and handed one of the other women like the cord.  Stacy's bound hands were secured to her bound feet so that she could not move.

The woman holding the chloroform cloth over her face removed it, even though she wasn't totally unconscious.  Stacy was facing the front of the car in the trunk.  She looked back over her shoulder through blurry eyes and saw the two women with broad smiles over their faces, framed by their silk headscarves and dark glasses.  Perfectly nondescript women, well trained agents doing someone's bidding.  The woman who had been chloroforming her, threw the chloroform-soaked handkerchief in her face and laughed.  The other woman reached down under her skirt and pulled Stacy's panties down to her knees.  She jammed her glove covered index finger into Stacy's twat, causing Stacy to scream into her gag.  The only people to hear her cry were the two women looming over her.  The woman who had violate her, put her finger in her mouth and sucked it.

"The great American spy got caught with her panties down and got fucked," the woman said.  Both women laughed as the boot of the car was slammed shut.

The two headscarved women got into the car, one in the passenger seat up front and the other in the backseat.  The other woman handed the woman in the passenger seat Stacy's jacket and purse.  The car moved quickly out of the alley way and left the third woman.  She stood there in the middle of the alleyway and pulled another white silk scarf from her purse.  She held it in front of her in the breeze, folding it into a triangle and then putting it over her head.  She pulled the ends down under her chin and tied a perfect square knot without even thinking about it.  Her eyes had been scanning the street to ensure that the abduction had not been witnessed.  She smiled.  There was no indication that anyone had seen anything.  Even if they had, it was unlikely that they would report it.  The Mafia kidnapped people all the time and no one wanted to get involved.  Of course, the Mafia never used women to kidnap another woman.  Satisfied that her part of the mission was completed, the woman turned and continued on her way.

Stacy was still conscious, but she knew that wouldn't last long.  The chloroform had done it's job, making it easier for the women to abduct her.  But it was the mouth stuffing, probably a wadded up handkerchief, that would ultimately cause her to lose consciousness.  It had a distinct medical flavor, which was no doubt a sedative, a very strong sedative.  In the moments she had left before she succumbed to the drug, Stacy tried to figure out who had done this to her and why.  She had so many enemies, but she was no longer a spy.  Although, there was a saying in the business.  Once the spy, always a spy.  Where had she gone wrong?  How did someone find her?  She had been so careful.  She was foolish to think that she could escape everyone and live a normal life.  The damp handkerchief in her mouth continued to give her doses of whatever sedative was soaked into it.  Stacy was going to lose her battle to stay awake.  Then the back wall of the car's boot opened.  A smiling face filled the opening from the car's backseat.

"Agent Stacy Steward, so good to see you again.  You don't know how much I been looking forward to this.  I look forward to getting my revenge - very slowly.  Then I will kill you," a female voice said.  Stacy knew that voice, but whose was it?  Then the woman laughed as Stacy's eyes closed and her mind shut down.

The End

Join us when the Lady Spies return in the Lady Spies and the Redemption Affair.

Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair - Conclusion
Book 9 in the series -January, 1962 - Agent Susan Harris has been missing and presumed dead for over a month.  Agents Stacy Steward and Lori Trackman are sent to a NATO conference as a protection detail where an elite KGB team might be at work.  Agents Doris Jenkens and Babs Wilson, now recovered from the explosion they were in, are sent on a mission to Egypt.

The action has moved to Egypt where Stacy is trying to save Susan.  

Chapter 50 - Will Natasha and the Duchess double cross Stacy and Susan during the exchange?

Chapter 51 - Stacy makes a life changing decision.

Chapter 52 - The man in the corner office gives the Lady Spies an update.

Epilogue - "Once a spy, always a spy"

So if you want lots of bondage, sex, chloroformed women, KOs...Read Lady Spies and the Revenge Affair.

Complete details of the Lady Spies series can be found in Lady Spies - A Chronology including links to the chapters of each story.

The cover is by the amazing :iconmileshendon:.


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LePtitLoup Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2018
SignatureSelynna by LePtitLoup  
Malasorte504 Featured By Owner May 17, 2018
Thanks for the watch.
lovegaggeddamsel Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2018
Hi Thomas...i'm a fan of old site and now I'm a fan of your "Lady Spies" stories and similar...I'm happy about your collaboration with Mileshendon...i'm fan and friend of Miles...and he is a fantastic DID drawer!!Together BlackProf and Erikson1,Miles is the best on Da...his drawing is amazing!!I love especially 3 types of gags for DID fantasy...otm/otn/stuff gags...i always loved otm and otn since I was a child...while stuff gag is recent love....about stuff gag I like when is easily a big hanky wadded,folded and stuffed in damsel mouth without other gag in Chinese dramas/movies...but I love it when is together at cleave or otm too....Cleave + stuff gag,I love especially in Centaur Celluloid videos..Centaur gagging is sexy with very big stuff gag secured by cleave...I have understood a thing about gags...otm,cleave,tape ecc...without stuffing are only aesthetic gags...Ok,but a otm tied very very tight behind the neck,can silence enough effectively girl/damsel without stuffing????Is it more effective than cleave without stuffing....I Know that you don't Like gags not effective...but I remember your fantastic video, where beautiful Chloe Night is tied in the bed by "bad" Loren Chance....Loren gags Chloe easily with a big hanky wadded and stuffed in girl mouth...i love that video,because stuff gag is rare in bondage scenarios...😊
knottysilkscarf Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2018
Many thanks for the kind words.  

A general comment on stuff gags without something to secure them - If someone is with the person, such a gag is okay.  However, cloth stuff gags by themselves are not secure.  Whatever you can stuff in someone's mouth can be easily pushed out.  Probably why you don't see them that often in bondage videos.

The problem with stuffing with a cleave is that it is often possible to leverage the stuffing with the tongue and push it past the cleave out of the mouth.  I have come to favor stuffing with a tightly tied OTM.  Of course, tape is another form of OTM.

It is always true that a cleave or OTM gag with stuffing will be more effective than without stuffing.  Having said that, a simple OTM or cleave gag might be sufficient depending on the situation.  But a lot depends on what is used for the gag and how it is tied.  A OTM gag will muffle more than a cleave with the same material, unless the material is very thin.  If you need to keep a damsel from being heard outside and she is in a house, a tightly tied OTM will probably do the job and should be secure.  A thick cleave gag might also work.

I find that for OTM gags, even the classic man's handkerchief, can be relatively effective in some situations, but a lot depends on the material, linen vs cotton vs whatever.  Tying them really tight is very important.
lovegaggeddamsel Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2018
Thanks for all the answers at my are very kind😊.For me otm is greater than cleave..i prefer it aesthetically...I like cleave only if there's visible mouth stuffing,or if cleave is very very thick...i hate thin is ridiculous...For me otm is iconic gag for DID doubt about it....first damsel in distress were with otm in movies...Sweet Gwendolyn first appearance in front page John Willie comic is with otm...Irving Klaw sets DID girls were always with otm...Cleave is not so iconic gag for me...I don't like tape...for me is boring's very easy gag girl with adhesive...i prefer cloth tied tight rear the neck...more elegant...more iconic.Otm+stuff gag is very effective and great aesthetically...the best in the world for me...but I'm enough happy to know by you that otm without stuffing tied tight could be a good gag to silence damsel in distress...very few people like otm...all love tape or horrible ball gag....ball gag is bdsm isn't in DID range!!DID fantasy is very different thing...I love DID fantasy but I hate bdsm....
mega23101982 Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2018
A no am a persistent pain but in my opinion the clips you produced on silenced ladies were ground breaking and led to so many people people doing spin offs today, I would love the old back caterloge to become available? Trust me a would purchase lots, thanks
knottysilkscarf Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2018
I appreciate your kind works on the video clips.  The problem is that the photo stories and the clips were never cataloged.  That is now in progress, but given time considerations, it is very slow going.  I hope at some point all of the clips will be available.
mega23101982 Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2018
thanks mate for taking time to do this really appreciated
Jimi-von-Broadway Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2018   Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch and the faves.
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